Jack remembered her. The lady from Child Services. He got under the covers and looked at Matty. His face streaked with dim bluish light from the moon and the snow. His pale cheeks. His hair still matted down and fluffed up in spots from the stocking hat. He needed a haircut. Jack pulled him close. “I remember.”

“Do you think she’ll come back?”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“You think she’ll bring that sheriff like she said she would?”

“If she or that sheriff comes around and I’m not here, you just don’t answer the door. You keep the door locked, and you don’t answer.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

He could feel Matty’s heart beating.

“If they hear Mom’s on a trip, do you think they’ll take me somewhere?”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“Okay.”

“I won’t let that happen,” he said again.

“Okay.”

Matty didn’t sleep for a long time. He fidgeted. He curled into Jack and then rolled over and huddled in the blanket with his back to the rocker. After a while his eyes closed. Jack thought he was asleep, but then he opened his eyes and looked at Jack in the gloom. He didn’t say anything. Just looked at him. Jack pretended to sleep. You will not screw this up. You will not. You will do what needs doing. Like you always have.

After a while Matty’s breathing turned steady.

Jack lay there and didn’t sleep.

Hours passed.

When he rose he laid a pillow over Matty’s ear and hoped it would be enough. The house was mostly dark. Outlines of shapes. Kitchen table. The rocker and the stove. He pulled on his coat and then his boots. Matty didn’t move.

He scooped up the rainbow blanket and walked upstairs to the bedroom and unlocked the door. She lay there on the bed with her arms folded and moon shadows playing over her. Almost iridescent in the leaden light. Like some emaciated Sleeping Beauty waiting for her prince. Well, he ain’t coming. And he never was any prince.

He spread the blanket over her and pulled the bottom corners together and knotted them under her feet. Her skin was cold. Her hair in yellow wisps on the pillow. He looked at her face one last time. Then he knotted the blanket’s top corners behind her head and rolled her over and pulled the edges tight. The sculptured blankness of her face hidden by yarn, a drift of colors across the bed. He tried to swallow but couldn’t.

How can you do this?

You are a monster.