Sally felt her forehead. It was clammy with sweat but not from fever. She was just overheated from lying in bed with the covers pulled over her head. “Why are you so afraid?”
“The monster.”
“If I lie down with you for a little while, will you go to sleep?”
“I want to sleep in your room. Just till Daddy comes home.”
“Honey, you’re a big girl now. This is your room.”
“But the monster.”
“There is no monster.”
“You sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“You look, please?”
She sighed, exasperated. “Yes, I’ll look.” She got down and checked under the bed. “Nothing under here.”
“No, no. Over there.” She was pointing toward the drapes again, the ones that covered the sliding glass door.
Sally hesitated. Even in the dim lighting she could make out the playful pink images of birds, rabbits, and other nursery-rhyme animals that danced across the balloon draperies. Hardly the stuff of a monster’s cloak, but her heart still fluttered. The fear in her daughter’s eyes seemed so genuine.
“There’s no monster.”
“Go check, Mommy. Please.”
She looked harder this time. Strange, but she found herself wondering if the rabbit was in the same place it had been a minute ago, or if it had moved. It seemed that it was no longer lined up with the little yellow duck on the other panel. She thought her eyes were playing tricks, until she saw it again.
That rabbit moved. Ever so slightly, it had definitely moved.
The air conditioner clicked off, and the knot in her belly loosened as the draperies settled back into place. The cool draft from the air conditioner had evidently caught the pleats, causing the subtle shift. No monsters.
“Will you, Mommy?”
“Will I what?”
“Look for the monster.”
“Okay. I’ll check.”
She didn’t move.
“Mommy, go.”
She suddenly felt foolish. She had actually considered switching on the lamp, then chided herself for even thinking about doing something that might convey her own irrational fear to her daughter. All this talk of monsters was actually getting to her, making her feel alone, making her realize how defenseless they really were, how vulnerable they might be, separated from the outside world and everyone in it by a flimsy lock and a mere pane of glass.
Stop it. She started across the room, one step at a time. It seemed to be taking forever. She was taking half steps, she realized, another sign of fear.
This is crazy.
Finally, she made it. She glanced back toward the bed and saw Katherine peering out from beneath the blanket, all but her eyes and the top of her head hidden. Sally’s pulse quickened as she reached out and gently pinched the fabric’s edge between her thumb and index finger, getting no closer to the sliding glass door than was absolutely necessary. Katherine ducked beneath the covers. Sally drew a deep breath. In a slow, tentative motion she pulled back the panel.
Nothing.
“See,” said Sally. “I told you. No monsters.”
Katherine was still hiding beneath the covers. In a muffled voice she said, “The other end. Check the other end, too.”
Sally hesitated. She wasn’t sure if it was instinct or paranoia that was telling her not to go there, but she couldn’t let Katherine see her silly fears. She took a half step, then another, moving closer to the draperies’ edge- the far edge where that bunny had moved.
“Careful, Mommy.”
“There’s nothing to worry about, sweetheart.” She didn’t like the sound of her own voice. It was as if she were trying to convince herself.
Her gaze drifted across the draperies, a happy portrait of dancing ducks and singing birds. Finally, her eyes locked on the bunny, and she waited. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, exactly, just movement of any kind. But she knew that if you stared at anything long enough it would seem to move, the way stars seem to swirl in the night sky if you lie on your back and stare up long enough. Still, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. The bunny was motionless, and then it happened. Maybe it was an illusion, like swirling stars, but the bunny’s chest seemed to swell and then shrink. It was as if it were breathing.
As if something behind it had just taken a breath.
“Is it okay, Mommy?”
On impulse, she grabbed the cord and pulled. The drapes flew open, and she froze. She was staring at her own faint reflection in the sliding glass door. Behind her, in the bed, Katherine’s head emerged from beneath the covers.
Sally gave her own fears a moment to subside, then tried to play it cool. “See. I told you there were no mon-”
The closet door burst open, and from the corner of her eye Sally saw a blur in the darkness coming toward her. She heard her own scream and then her daughter’s cry. “Mommy!”
The blur hit her full speed and broadside, smashing her against the wall. She turned and let her fist fly with all her might, but it was all too quick, and he was far too strong. A blow to her belly took her breath away. Her head snapped back as the attacker grabbed her by the hair. She clawed at his face with her nails, but it was covered with a nylon stocking. Her body twisted, her daughter screamed, and Sally’s eyes widened as she saw the shiny blade glisten in the stream of light from the hallway. It was coming toward her, as if in slow motion, but she felt powerless to stop it. She twisted once more, a futile effort to escape.
Her blouse came up, and she watched the blade disappear as the man’s fist met her flesh.
She screamed and fell to the floor, gasping for air, trying to stop the hot, wet river of pain that was flowing from the hole below her ribs.
Blood. So much blood.
“Mommy, Mommy!”
Katherine’s cries gave her strength, and somehow she sprang into action and grabbed her attacker by the ankles. It was like tackling a mule, and his kick stopped her cold. She tried to rise again, but the room was swirling.
“Don’t hurt…my daughter,” she said, but she could barely get the words out.
He kicked her once more, harder this time. She felt her teeth crack, and the salty taste of blood filled her mouth. She struggled to lift her head, but it dropped to the floor.
“Mommy, the monster! The monster!”
Her daughter’s screams faded, and Sally’s world went black.
Part One
One
