Chapter 4

Hailey stayed in her room, listening.

Frank was shouting, cursing.

Brenda was trying to calm him, her voice a low murmur.

"She burned me, Bren! The little monster burned me!"

"I know, Frank, I know. We'll deal with her. She'll pay for this."

Hailey shivered. "Deal with her." That meant the footlocker.

She knew direct confrontation was useless now. She was small, and they were two.

She had won a moment, a small escape, but not the war.

She needed a plan. A real plan.

The dresser wouldn't hold Frank for long if he really wanted in.

Morning came.

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Hailey' s stomach growled. She hadn' t eaten since yesterday.

She crept to her door, listened.

Nothing.

Maybe they had left?

Hope flickered, then died. They wouldn't leave without Kevin's console money.

Suddenly, her door crashed open.

The dresser scraped across the floor.

Frank stood there, his face red and swollen where the flames had touched him. His eyes were filled with a cold fury.

Brenda was right behind him, her arms crossed.

"Thought you were smart, huh?" Frank growled.

He lunged, and Hailey had no time to react.

He grabbed her, his grip like iron.

He had a roll of duct tape.

He ripped off a piece and slapped it over her mouth.

Hailey struggled, but he was too strong.

He bound her hands tightly behind her back with more tape.

Brenda watched, her expression unreadable.

"This is for your own good, Hailey," Brenda said, her voice smooth. "So you don't cause any more trouble."

Frank pulled a dirty sock from his pocket.

He stuffed it into Hailey's mouth, under the tape.

Hailey gagged, her eyes wide with terror.

Then, he dragged her towards the footlocker.

He forced her in, pushing her down roughly.

The lid slammed shut.

The click of the lock.

Darkness. Again.

Muffled sounds from outside.

Then, a knock on the front door.

Hailey' s heart leaped.

She heard Mrs. Peterson' s voice, their neighbor.

"Hello? Frank? Brenda? Is everything alright? I heard a lot of shouting last night, and then again this morning."

Mrs. Peterson. Kind, observant Mrs. Peterson.

Maybe. Maybe this was it.

Hailey tried to make noise, to bang against the side of the footlocker.

But her hands were bound, her body cramped.

She heard Brenda' s sweet, false voice.

"Oh, Mrs. Peterson! So nice of you to check on us. Everything is fine."

"I heard... well, it sounded like a child was very distressed."

"That's just Hailey," Brenda said with a sigh. "She can be very dramatic. Upset about the trip, you know how teenagers are."

Then Kevin' s voice, coached and clear. "Yeah, Hailey's just being dramatic. Nobody hurt her. She's just mad she can't bring all her toys."

Police officers. Mrs. Peterson had called the police.

Hailey heard their deep voices questioning Brenda.

Brenda was smooth, convincing.

"She' s a difficult child, officer. Always has been. We' re just trying our best."

"Can we see her?" one officer asked.

"She' s... indisposed right now. A bit of a tantrum. Locked herself in her room, you know."

Hailey banged her head against the wood, desperate.

The officers sounded hesitant.

"Well, ma'am, if there are any further disturbances..."

"Of course, officer. Thank you for your concern."

The front door closed.

Footsteps faded.

Hope died. Crushed.

Frank laughed, a low, cruel sound. "Nice try, waste of space."