Lucas was standing now, twisting his arms to form a new creature in the light. Marianne felt her stomach, the soft mound of loose skin. She thought, I made those fingers. She wanted to call out, to ask what kind of animal Lucas was making, but before she could the jaws opened and clamped down over the shadow rabbit, Sarah screaming as Lucas dug his nails into her skin.

Richard’s collection of silver dollars was gone. He came home from work, opened the desk drawer, and saw the red velvet coin bag stretched out empty, like a deflated party balloon. He knew right away that Lucas had taken them. Over the weekend, Richard had refused to drive his son to a comic book store in the city. They had argued about it for days. The more Lucas shouted and declared that Richard was going to take him, the more Richard refused to budge, even when Marianne came to him at night and asked him softly to give in.

“Open up!” Richard pounded with his fists outside his son’s bedroom. “Lucas! Open the door!” This was Richard’s home. He paid the bills. He’d put the wallpaper up in this hallway, paid for the wiring for this light, painted the trim on this door frame. He tried pushing against the door with his shoulder and realized that Lucas must have put up a barricade. Richard got a chair and sat in front of the room for an hour, glaring at the handle, waiting. When the door finally opened, he forced his way in.

“What did you do with my coins?” Richard shoved the bureau back against the wall and began searching the room. It was dark inside; the shades were drawn. He moved a Hot Wheels racetrack, kicked a pile of clothes on the floor, checked underneath plates and bowls crusted with food on the desk. “Where are they?”

“Get out of my room!” Lucas shouted.

Richard suddenly felt as if he were confronting his own father, dead three years now from Alzheimer’s. The old man had been convinced at the end that Richard was a spy, the nurses professional torturers.

“Doors don’t lock in this house,” Richard said.

“I didn’t touch your stupid coins.”

Richard tried not to lift his hand and threaten him. The coins came from Europe, India, and South America. His father had kept them hidden at the nursing home. Richard found the velvet pouch while cleaning out the room, stuffing garbage bags full of cardigan sweaters and dirty socks. He hadn’t known that his father was a collector. When the drawstring opened, the coins had jingled and he’d felt their worth.

“I’m going to count to three.”

Lucas swung his leg back and kicked him.

“That’s it,” said Richard, and he pinned the boy against the wall.