What will Jamie’s parents think? Will they believe the lie the Magpie Man leaves for them, or will they see the truth below?

I try to let go of the knife, but he wraps his hand tightly around mine and moves my arm toward Jamie.

With his other hand, he grips Jamie’s wrist and holds it out, then forces my hand down toward his skin until the blade is resting there.

“I’m sorry it had to end this way,” the Magpie Man says. “It was never my intention to hurt children.”

I can’t help but laugh, even here, even now, and he tilts his head and says, “What’s so funny?”

“It was never your intention to hurt children? You murdered their mothers. And I know what you do to Bernie. I saw her bedroom door.”

He doesn’t respond to that. He nods and grips my hand even tighter, then pushes until the knife breaks Jamie’s skin, directly over the rope burn.

I try to fight back, to pull the knife up as he’s forcing it down, but he’s stronger than me, and I see the blood start creeping out.

I look at Jamie, his eyes wider than I’ve ever seen them, his face white in the moonlight, and I hate myself. He deserves so much better than this. He only ever wanted to be my hero, and he is.

I pull back more, refusing to do this, fighting against the Magpie Man’s grip even as Jamie’s cry escapes from behind the cloth still stuffed in his mouth.

And that’s when we hear the noise, feet pounding toward us, the shape arriving so quickly, I can’t believe my eyes.

It smashes into the Magpie Man and knocks him backward, the knife falling to the ground, and my first instinct is to pull the cloth from Jamie’s mouth and wrap it around his wrist.

Only then do I turn and see my father on top of the Magpie Man, beating his fists on his chest.

He came. He actually came. The man who gave up, the man who barely leaves the living room, he caught the monster.

But the Magpie Man rolls away, leaps up, and punches my dad between the eyes. Then he grabs the knife and lunges forward just as Dad jumps back, the blade slashing the air between them.

Blood trickles from Dad’s nose, but his eyes are locked on the Magpie Man.

He sways slowly from side to side with his arms out while the Magpie Man wipes his own blood from his lips, smearing it across his cheek.

He sneers and says, “You can’t beat me. I’ll kill you just like I killed your wife.”

I see something crackle under Dad’s surface, but he doesn’t move. He waits, watching the knife and the monster holding it.

“Come on,” the Magpie Man snarls, but Dad doesn’t respond.