Date: December 19th, 2000

The wind howled outside the frost-covered windows of the Cross household, rattling the panes like ghostly fingers searching for warmth. Winter had buried the sleepy little home in a blanket of snow, the streets outside silent beneath the soft hush of midnight. Yet inside the weathered house on Hemlock Drive, peace was a stranger.

Ten-year-old Lena Cross lay curled in a nest of blankets, her small frame barely visible beneath the covers. Her long, thin blond hair fanned out wildly over her pillow, tangled from restless dreams. Her breath came softly, rhythmic and slow, a child’s fragile peace guarded by nothing but locked doors and hope.

Elsewhere in the house, chaos slept fitfully.

In the living room, a blaring infomercial pierced the silence, the sound turned up just high enough to almost rattle glass. 

Darren Cross was slumped in a worn, brown leather recliner, snoring intermittently as his hand twitched against his stomach. His white shirt was stained with sweat and liquor, and four empty bottles lay scattered at his feet like discarded thoughts. A fifth bottle, still half-full, sloshed in his calloused hand, dripping onto the shaggy carpet each time he stirred.

The clock on the wall struck midnight with a hollow chime.

Darren's bloodshot hazel eyes cracked open briefly. He groaned and scratched his belly, mumbling something incoherent about his back before closing his eyes again. But before sleep reclaimed him, the front door creaked open.

The sound of the lock disengaging and hinges groaning cut through the hum of the television like a knife.

He jolted upright—or tried to. His attempt at standing ended with him crumpling to the floor with a grunt. Just then, a woman stepped through the door, heels clicking lightly against the hardwood floor.

She was petite, dressed in a sleek gray dress suit and matching pencil skirt. Her long blond hair cascaded down her back, and her piercing blue eyes scanned the room with surprise and concern.

“Dear? What are you doing on the floor?” she asked, rushing over to him.

Maria Cross knelt down, recoiling slightly at the stench of alcohol emanating from her husband’s breath. She reached out a hand to help him up. Darren looked up at her with bleary, unfocused eyes—and something twisted in them. Rage flickered behind his drunken haze.

He smacked her hand away.

“I could ask you the same thing, you wh*re,” he slurred, staggering to his feet. “You got any idea how late it is? Didjah get your fill with that big shot lawyer boss of yours?!”

Maria jumped at the sudden shout. “Darren, you’re drunk,” she said with a tired sigh, her voice low but firm. “Lower your voice so you don’t wake up Lena.”

She turned toward the hallway.

“H-HEY! Don’t you walk away from me, you sl*t!” he bellowed, stumbling after her. “Suddenly you care about Lena after being gone all day and night?! You’re a terrible—hic—excuse for a mother!”

Maria turned to face him, crossing her arms. “I stayed late so I could finish paperwork and spend Christmas break with Lena. Also, you know my boss is gay, Darren. How could you say something so cruel?”

“Ahhh, whatever! That’s just a lie so he can make you let your guard down and f*ck you anyway! I know what’s really going on!”

In her room, Lena stirred in her bed.

The shouting clawed through her dreams and pulled her into waking. She sat up, heart pounding, ears straining. Carefully, she tiptoed to her bedroom door and cracked it open just in time to hear the sound of glass shattering.

Her breath hitched.

Elsewhere, Maria stared at the broken remains of the bottle now gripped by Darren like a weapon. Her hands rose slowly, trembling.

“W-what are you planning to do with that, Darren?” she said, voice shaking. “Put…the bottle…down.”

“Why should I?” he snarled. “Maybe I should teach you a lesson for cheating on me after I bust my a** every day to feed this godd*mn family!”

Lena froze, eyes wide. She could just make out the broken edge of glass hovering dangerously close to her mother’s throat.

Maria’s eyes flicked from the jagged bottle to Darren’s face, reading the madness there. Then, with a sudden cry, she swung her large red purse at him, smacking his face with a thud. Darren stumbled, crashing to the floor as Maria bolted down the hallway.

“You B*TCH! Get back here!”

Lena flinched as Maria sprinted past her door. Their eyes met for a split second—Maria’s blue eyes filled with sorrow and apology—before she disappeared into the master bedroom and locked the door.

An angry groan from Darren cracked the silence as he ran towards the locked door.

Darren slammed his fist against the door. “OPEN UP! I know what you did!” he roared, over and over as Maria screamed back at him to leave her alone.

Lena’s hands trembled at her sides. ‘What should I do? I'm so scared for Mom…’

She looked down. Her fingers were shaking. But somewhere deep inside her, a spark of courage flickered.

‘If I can sneak into the kitchen without Dad noticing… I can call for help.’

She nodded to herself, pushing her bedroom door open a little more. Her bare feet were silent on the floor as she crept toward the kitchen. She reached the wall phone and lifted the receiver with careful hands. Her fingers pressed the buttons quickly—too quickly.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The tones echoed in the quiet like gunshots.

Darren paused mid-rant.

“…Lena? Are you awake?!” His footsteps thundered toward the kitchen.

“911, how can I help you?” Lena opened her mouth, but Darren appeared in the doorway like a demon summoned by her fear.

“What are you doing, honey?” he asked, voice syrupy-sweet but eyes filled with venom. “You should go back to bed.”

“Hello? Hello? Sending patrol u—”

Darren surged forward and slammed the phone onto the hook. Lena backed away, but there was nowhere to go. He towered over her, the broken bottle still in hand.

“Don’t make me tell you twice, girl.” Lena’s legs locked. She couldn’t move.

“You brat. You’re just like your wh*re mother—never listenin’, always thinkin’ you're better than me.”

He grabbed a fistful of her hair.

“Please don—ow, ow, ow!” she cried, but he dragged her like a ragdoll down the hall.

Maria burst from the bedroom, eyes wide. “Let her go! She’s just a child!”

Darren smirked, releasing Lena’s hair. She crumpled to the floor.

“Finally…” he hissed, turning toward Maria.

Maria stood her ground. Her eyes didn’t focus on him—but on Lena behind him.

“I love you, Lena,” she whispered.

“NOOO!”

Lena launched herself at Darren, grabbing his shirt with all her strength and trying to yank him back.

“Please Daddy! Don’t do this!” she screamed.

He barely stumbled.

“Let go!” he barked and struck her with the back of his hand. Lena hit the wall hard—but didn’t feel pain. Only the strange sensation of floating. Her cheek burned. Tears blurred her vision.

The last thing she saw before the world faded was a spray of red—dark against the dull wallpaper. Then, everything faded to black.