“We have to go,” he said hoarsely, and they turned from the grotesque scene and hurried out of the house. They ran headlong down the hill. John stumbled on the uneven gravel, barely catching himself, and Jessica turned back. “Go,” he grunted, and clutched Charlie tighter, slowing his pace just a little.

At last they reached the car, and Jessica opened the back door and got in, then scooted over to the far side and reached out to help him put Charlie inside. Together they laid her across the back seat, placing her head in Jessica’s lap. John started the car.

As they sped through the night he kept checking the rearview mirror, reassuring himself: Charlie still slept, as Jessica twined her fingers in her hair, looking down at her face in wonder. John met her eyes in the mirror and saw his own thoughts on her face: She’s here. She’s alive.

*  *  *

Charlie raced down the hill, exhilarated, almost leaping—she felt like if she went fast enough she might take off and fly. Her heart was beating in a new rhythm; the night air was cool and fresh, and all her senses felt heightened: she could see anything, hear anything—do anything.

She reached the bottom of the hill and took off up the next one—she had parked her car behind it. She smiled into the night, picturing Aunt Jen’s face in the moment it had dawned on her what was about to happen. That smooth, near-impermeable calm had ruptured; the cold-blooded woman had become a soft, frightened animal in the space of an instant. At least she had the dignity not to beg, Charlie thought. Or maybe she just knew it wouldn’t help. She shivered, then shrugged.

They had been having pleasantries, then Charlie gave Jen a wide, cruel smile, and Jen screamed. Charlie advanced on her, and she screamed again; this time Charlie choked off the noise, grabbing Aunt Jen by the throat. She lifted her off her feet, and slammed her into a door with such force it clattered in its hinges. Her aunt tried to crawl away, and she caught her by her hair, now sticky with blood, and threw her into the wall again. This time she did not try to run, and Charlie crouched beside her and put a hand around her throat again, taking her time now, relishing the feeling of her aunt’s pulse beneath her fingers, and the terrified look in her eyes. Jen opened and closed her mouth, gawping like a fish, and Charlie watched for a moment, considering.

“Is there something you’d like to say?” she asked mockingly. Jen made a tiny, pained nod, and Charlie leaned in close so she could whisper, keeping an iron grip on her throat. Jen took a thin, rattling breath, and Charlie reluctantly lightened the pressure enough to let her speak.