Unlisted

Linda bursts into the bathroom and grabs her little son by the arm, letting his toothbrush clatter into the sink behind them. She moves swiftly and without a word, followed by the desperate pattering of tiny feet against the fluffy carpet. As they run, Linda ducks into each room to flick light switches and yank lamps from the wall, telling her boy to be quiet, to just come with mommy.

Finally she kneels behind her son in the cimmerian hush of his bedroom, hand clamped over his mouth until downstairs the relentless thunder of fists against their front door fades.