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to jerk her arm free. She kicked. The toe of her shoe hit Willy’s shin.
        ‘Do you think that hurt?’ he asked.
        She kicked him again.
        His fist doubled her. She wheezed and choked as he dragged her into the kitchen. There, he picked her up. Clutching the back of her collar, he opened the refrigerator door. He shoved her head in. He slammed the door on it.
        Eggs fell out of the holder in the door. Two of them broke on the back of her head. Willy had to laugh.
        Then he stretched her out on the kitchen floor and stripped her naked.
        Later, he wanted to see if he really was strong enough to rip off her arm.
        He was.
        He tore the other arm off, too. But her legs were tougher, and he was a little worn out by the time he got to them, so he gave up after doing no more than breaking the left one out of its hip socket.
        He took a Pepsi out of her refrigerator, popped it open, and sat down at the kitchen table.
        From there, he had a fine view of Marty’s house.
        

12
        
        Marty’s hands were soapy when the telephone rang.
        ‘It’s for you, dear,’ her mother called from upstairs.
        Marty rubbed the sponge once more over the slick surface of the plate, then rinsed off the soap and stood the plate upright in the drain rack. After wiping her hands on a towel, she picked up the phone. ‘I’ve got it,’ she called. Then she said, ‘Hello,’ into the mouthpiece.
        ‘How you been?’ Dan asked. There was a flatness in his voice. He sounded weary.
        ‘Not too great. How about you?’
        . ‘Well…’ He was silent for a few moments, then said, ‘I’m sorry about last night.’
        ‘Are you?’
        ‘I shouldn’t have fought with you like that.’
        ‘Are you sorry for what you did to Willy?’
        ‘He got what he deserved.’
        ‘It wasn’t…’
        ‘Damn it, Marty!’
        ‘I know you think you did it for me. But you didn’t have to brutalize the man.’
        ‘Shit.’
        ‘Dan!’
        ‘When are you gonna grow up? You meet violence with bigger violence. That’s how it works.’
        ‘You’re wrong. You’re so wrong.’ Marty’s chin started trembling. Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I know you did it for me, to protect me. I know that. But it was… so horrible! I… I just don’t know…’ There was a long silence in the phone.
        ‘Dan?’
        ‘Yeah?’
        ‘I don’t like… this other side of you.’ Sobbing, she waited for him to speak. But he didn’t. ‘You tortured him, Dan. You tortured him.’
        He didn’t try to defend himself; he hung up.
        Marty put down the phone and stood there, gazing at the wall. Then she ran upstairs to her bedroom, flopped down on her bed and sobbed into her pillow.
        Soon, the pillow was warm under her face. Warm and wet. Her body, tired from crying, relaxed. Sleep washed all the pain away as it came down on her, pleasant and heavy, an old friend bringing peace.
        When she woke up, she listened to the house. It was silent except for the electric hum of her alarm clock. She glanced at the clock. Almost seven.
        Her face felt tight where the tears had dried. Rubbing it with both hands, she thought back to dinner. Her parents had mentioned going over to the Bransons tonight.
        Seven-ish.
        The house sounded empty. Apparently, they’d already left.
        Marty sat up on the side of her bed, wondering what to do. She couldn’t stay alone in the house - not with Willy out there someplace.
         If he isn’t in a hospital.
         Or a morgue.
         No, he couldn’t be dead. Dan hadn’t hurt him enough to kill him.
        She kicked off her sandals, unfastened her belt, and slipped off her shorts. Standing, she looked out the window. The neighborhood looked deserted. No kids were playing