“Please! They’re bleeding so much. They need help. How can you just stand by and watch!” Tom cried.
The large screen on the wall portrayed both Tom and Molly’s worst nightmare: all three of their kids in anguish. The pool of blood surrounding the children grew as the red continued to drizzle down the tube slide in the background.
Rock remained stoic, staring at the dark drama as it unfolded. There was no answer forming inside his oversized head, but his eyes sat fixed on Donnie.
He was all stained up again. This time with a far greater amount of his own blood than before. Still, the boy remained every bit as stone-faced as the massive man studying him.
Rock reached into the pocket of his jacket and played with the submissive instrument he’d detached from Donnie earlier. It calmed him when he felt the touch of the gore-caked leash. He didn’t understand what compelled him to keep it. He just couldn’t bear to part with it.
Molly couldn’t hold her tongue for another minute. She remained at the mercy of the television, but amid the anguish, she’d noticed exactly what Tom had—a gap between the twisted people that had orchestrated this event.
“You don’t wanna do this! I can see it in your eyes! You know she’s wrong!” Molly yelled.
Rock glared at Molly in the screen’s reflection.
“You know she’s sick! For Christ’s sake, she treats you like a dog! You don’t have to be like her—”
“Quiet!” Rock roared.
The same fingers that had just been toying with Donnie’s leash so gingerly, suddenly applied a death grip.
She’d struck a nerve. The big fella, to that point, had been calm and collected. Enough so that they’d been able to communicate with him several times. When the talk wasn’t about him specifically, no one had garnered a reaction. But with Molly mentioning him directly, there was a sudden, radical shift in his demeanor.
“I’m sorry—”
Tom elbowed his wife. The massive man seemed angry. He figured it was best for Molly to obey Rock’s command and keep quiet, at least until the tension eased up.
Rock grunted, perturbed by her apology.
“You don’t know what sorry is.”
