Bad Games

60



Every last bind had been cut and Patrick was now free. He stared intently at the scene unfolding on the television screen, then ripped one of the knives from the dry wall. His adrenaline was at a fever pitch. His legs and arms shook. He studied the big knife clenched tight in his fist. The rage he was feeling was unparalleled, and nothing short of ramming the knife deep into Arty’s chest (repeatedly) would quench his thirst for vengeance.

“Carrie, you follow behind Daddy quietly okay? Be as quiet as you can but stay close to me. When we get downstairs I’ll show you where to hide, but until we get down there I want you to stay close and be quiet. Can you do that?”

Carrie nodded.

“Good girl. Daddy’s going to go get Mommy and Caleb and then we’re going to go home.”

“Are you going to hurt those bad men?”

Patrick glanced down warily at his daughter. She stared back up at him, the numb demeanor now gone, her eyes momentarily suppressing their innocence. Those eyes allowed Patrick to tell the truth.

“Yes.”

Carrie’s face became angry and righteous. “Good,” she said.