Wish You Were Dead

belt.

Zap! Tyler let out a shriek and convulsed on the ground. Meanwhile, Ms. Skelling studied his pen intently, as if searching for a clue as to what he’d been doing. Finding nothing, she finally turned and went back inside.

Tyler lay on the floor of the pen, his chest rising and falling in rapid, short breaths. A burnt scent reached my nose and I recoiled at the realization that it was the smell of scorched flesh. She’d shocked him so hard the skin had burned.

I also realized how Ms. Skelling had come out so quickly. She’d been waiting and listening on the other side of the kitchen door. That chatter about having no more trouble from that one had been a ploy, a setup to try and catch Tyler red-handed.

I waited, not sure what to do. Because of the loud clinking sound, and the way Tyler had started to pull back the slat even before Skelling raced out of the house, I had a feeling the latch on the door of my pen was open. But now what? Did I dare try it and risk making a sound that might bring Ms. Skelling out again? What else could I do? Just sit there and wait for her to kill us all? Still I waited, praying Tyler would come to.

It seemed like Tyler lay on the cold, wet ground for a long time, but maybe it only felt long because of how frightened I was. I kept looking back at the door to the house. Was Ms. Skelling on the other side, still listening? Even if she wasn’t, how long would it be before she came back? In his pen, Tyler’s hands slowly closed into fists. He struggled to push himself up on his elbows, then seemed to lose strength, and collapsed again.

Please get up, Tyler, I prayed. Please!

As if he heard me, he once again struggled to his elbows. The effort seemed to exhaust him, and he stayed like that for a while. Then he slowly sat up and looked at me. His eyes were glassy and dull. His dirty cheeks were streaked with tears, and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

“You’re bleeding,” I whispered.

His forehead bunched. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth and it came away red. “Bit my tongue pretty bad.” His words were garbled, as if he’d just come from having a tooth filled at the dentist.

“Now what?” I whispered.

Tyler blinked rapidly as if he needed a moment to remember where he was. His eyes focused. “Go get help.”

Just get up, push open the gate, and run? It was questionable whether I’d be able to get away without Ms. Skelling seeing me. And even if I did, by the time I got to my car, found someplace where I could call for help, and waited for help to come, she was sure to have noticed I was gone. And then she would kill Courtney, Tyler, and Ethan—if he wasn’t already dead—and quickly take off.

Tyler stared at me and again urged, “Go!”

Trembling with fear, I shook my head. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to die, but I wasn’t sure I could live with myself if I ran away.

“What are you doing?” Tyler whispered. He must have been incredibly frustrated that I wasn’t going for help after he’d suffered so much pain to win my freedom.

“I don’t know,” I whispered back, my eyes filling with tears of fright. “I don’t want to go. She’ll catch me. And even if I get away, she’ll kill you and Courtney and Ethan.”

“What good is staying going to do?” Tyler asked.

“I don’t know.” I was racked with confusion and fear.

“You can’t fight her,” Tyler said. “The second she sees you, she’ll zap you.” But even as the words came out of his mouth, his eyes changed as if he’d just thought of something. “Why didn’t I think of this sooner?” he muttered and pointed at my doghouse. “Tear off a piece of shingle. A thick piece, about an inch square. Slide it between your neck and the prongs. Then cover it with your hair.”

I did as I was told. The shingles were old and crumbly. It was easy to tear off a corner. “Now what?” I whispered.

There wasn’t time for Tyler to answer. The door opened and Ms. Skelling came out again. She saw us facing each other in our pens and must have instantly suspected we were hatching a plan. She reached for her belt and Tyler cried out and was sent sprawling. Then she turned to me.

The pressure of the jolt was like someone slapping me on the neck with a ruler but nothing more. Still, I let out a yelp and sprawled on the ground as if the shock had hit me full force. The piece of shingle felt hot against my neck. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Ms. Skelling continue down the pens and open Ethan’s.

I looked across at Tyler. His face lay against the dirt, eyes closed, blood dribbling out of his mouth. I had to do something, but what? I looked back at the house. The shovel and hayfork were leaning against the wall.

I heard a grunt. Ms. Skelling was backing out of Ethan’s pen with her arms under his shoulders, dragging him. My heart was racing, my forehead felt tight and hot, and my breaths were so shallow and fast that I felt light- headed. I don’t think I ever felt so scared. But what was the point of waiting? I opened my pen gate as quietly as possible, then rushed toward the house.

The wooden handle of the hayfork felt heavy and cold in my trembling hands. I turned and went back into the kennel. Still dragging Ethan, Ms. Skelling had her back to me. I stopped and waited, holding the hayfork out in front of me. As Ms. Skelling dragged Ethan past my pen, she saw the open gate and stopped. She twisted her head around.

She stared at me with the slightest scowl, as if wondering how I’d managed to escape. My heart was banging out of control, and I was trembling. I’m sure she saw that. Her scowl slowly became an evil, knowing smile. She let Ethan drop to the ground, and reached for her belt.

I felt a light jolt at my neck and the shingle grew hot. Ms. Skelling frowned deeply and pressed the button again. Another jolt and the shingle grew so hot it practically burned my skin, but I knew I couldn’t take it away. Ms. Skelling sneered and reached for the pipe.

I was no longer trembling. Now I was shaking, almost uncontrollably. I felt the urge to cry for help. That’s what I’d been able to do all my life, and someone—my mother, my father, a friend—had always come. But what good would crying for help do now? I wanted to drop the hayfork and run, but I knew I wouldn’t get far. And that left only one choice. I had one chance, and that was to stand and fight. It wasn’t much of a chance. I’d managed, my whole life, to avoid fighting. But now this hayfork was all I had. It was all that stood between me and certain death.

Ms. Skelling came toward me. She was bigger and stronger, and she had no reluctance about using that pipe. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she was looking forward to using it in the most horrible ways imaginable. I gripped the handle of the hayfork. One more step, I thought, and you have to do it.

For Courtney, and Lucy, and Adam.

And all the others.

And for yourself.

She took that step. We locked eyes. Hers were wide but strangely blank, almost as if someone were operating her body by remote control.

I squeezed the handle of the hayfork and—

Just at that moment, Ms. Skelling fell.

I heard the thud and the grunt. Ms. Skelling was on her hands and knees just a few feet away. On the ground just behind her was the slat from Tyler’s doghouse.

He’d used it to trip her. Still sprawled on the ground, he looked up at me, his face contorted with pain and covered with dirt and blood.

Ms. Skelling also looked up at me. The pipe had flown from her hand and lay on the ground between us.

“Madison, do it!” Tyler rasped.

Shaking, more terrified than I’d ever been in my entire life, I took a step forward, gesturing threateningly with the hayfork. The sharp prongs were less than a foot from Ms. Skelling’s face. But it felt like an empty, feeble gesture. It was one thing to defend myself if she were attacking, but now her weapon was gone and she was on her hands and knees.…

“For God’s sake!” Tyler pleaded.

Ms. Skelling looked up at me, her eyes no longer blank. Now they were filled with reason and sincerity. “Don’t listen to him, Madison. You don’t have to do it. I’ll let you and your friends go. Just give me a few hours to get