And again. Crack! The third blow catches Herman off guard. He flops sideways, knocking Mrs. Green’s tray of tools over. Elliot’s no match for Herman, who is bigger than Elliot and has two strong feet to stand on.

Growling, Herman swats at Elliot, coming at him with full force, but then the unexpected happens. Herman trips. Elliot lays into him one more time, and though it’s not a hard hit, it’s enough for Herman to lose his balance.

He falls, his limbs flailing, and when Herman hits the ground he lets out a sudden sigh. Blood blossoms on his shirt like a bright red flower. The jagged end of a pipe peeks through his chest.

“What have you done? What have you done?” Mrs. Green rushes to Herman and holds his face tenderly with both hands.

With Mrs. Green distracted, Elliot uses the cane to hobble towards me and start breaking apart the tape restraints. Hurry, hurry, hurry, I think. Behind Elliot, Herman’s breathing becomes more labored. I look over Elliot’s shoulder, but can’t fully see what’s happening. Straining against the tape, I see that Herman stares into space, no longer breathing, and Mrs. Green is now glaring at us with a hacksaw in a bony hand.

I scream through my half-stitched mouth. Elliot turns, but Mrs. Green swipes him with the hacksaw, catching his shoulder. He cries out, crumpling to the ground. Blood flows from his torn arm. There’s a fury on Mrs. Green’s face I haven’t seen before. She kneels, rolling Elliot over.

I work the tape loose, but it’s stuck together. Desperate, I glance at the girls in the corner. They stand there, watching. “Please,” I say to the girls. “Do something. You can do something.”

Mrs. Green straddles Elliot. She presses down on his swollen ankle. Elliot cries out. The weight of her holds Elliot in place. I shimmy out of the now loosened tape and tug at the remaining binding around my ankles.

Every cry of pain from Elliot jolts my system. Mrs. Green raises the saw over Elliot, bringing it down hard. Elliot lifts his hands to block the blow. Thwack. The saw slices through his finger.

“Agghhh! Aghhhh!” His cries echo through the room.

The ghostly girls watch as Mrs. Green slices the saw into Elliot’s clavicle. He cries out and blood soaks his shirt. Tugging at my bindings, I turn to the girls. “I know you can hear me. You can help us. I know you can.”

Mrs. Green raises the saw again. I cry out, feeling the moment slow down as Mrs. Green prepares to deliver the final blow. In the corner, Claire winds up, straining against her stitched lips. The black thread stretches. She opens her mouth, letting out an ear-shattering scream. It’s the loudest sound I’ve ever heard. I wince, covering my ears. Mrs. Green drops her hands.