to me seemed like they were getting on his nerves as well. Finally, after three weeks he had a talk with her. I was in another room feeding the Thing, but I managed to catch the words, "crazy bitch" and "divorce her" a few times. However, the next day she started packing. She left the following night when Johnny got home from work, but not before she let him now that her home would always be open to him and Tommy.
I spent most of that night tossing and turning and planning for the following day when Johnny was at work. I had to make my move then. I couldn't let Tommy be missing any longer. He could be alone and hurt and scared, and it was finally time to act!
A storm was picking up as Johnny left for work that day. Dark clouds rolled in as I watched him pull the car out of the driveway. I waited forty-five minutes after he was gone. I guessed that by then wouldn't be coming back to check on me. I turned the oven on as high as it would go and Then I went and got the shears.
Now I'm standing over the crib with the shears in hand. The thing is asleep. It's just a child. Does it deserve what I'm about to do? "Tommy should be in that crib right now," I thought angrily. I brandish the shears and closed them. *Shing* the Thing jerks awake and lets out a howling, terrified cry. Cold Iron. I bring the shears closer. "Give me back my son!" I shriek. The crying intensified. I touch the sharp end of the shears to the Things arm. It jerks back as if stung.
"Give Tommy back!"
I grab the Thing's forearm and *shing* cut deep into the meat above the elbow. It lets out one long wail and the wind howls outside. Blood pools in the crib. I look around. What now? Is that enough? Do I cut more? Or...the oven?
I take a deep breath, and I pick up the Thing. This is for Tommy. Revenge for Tommy. Justice for Tommy. It flails and thrashes so hard I nearly drop it. The screams it makes reverberate through the hallway as I carry it to the kitchen. My hands are growing slick with it's blood and tears. This is for Tommy. This is for Tommy. This is for Tommy. Another great gust of wind crashes into the house, and I can hear the windows vibrate with the force of it.
I set it on the kitchen floor and open the oven door. The room warms with the heat of it. The Thing tries to crawl away, smearing blood from the wound on it's arm, but I catch it by the heel. I shout, "Bring my son back!" Then grab it with my other hand as well and hurl it into the oven as quickly as I can, Slamming the door closed behind it and holding it shut.
The screams before were nothing compared to what came from the oven then, but they soon were broken up by sickening coughs. I feel pressure on the oven door but I hold it tight. The wind rages outside. The whole house feels like it's about to be uprooted. Somewhere in the house, a window shatters. "Bring Tommy back!" I cry over and over, like a mantra. Finally the coughs and screams weaken and then stop altogether. The wind starts to subside.
I open the oven door partway to peer in and I smell burnt hair and flesh as acrid smoke rises up from the oven...Just then, a hammer of wind smashes open the kitchen door to the outside and tosses me to the ground. In the wind I hear rage and grief and hatred. Just for a moment the wind seems to force the smoke from the oven back inside and the oven door flies open the rest of the way. The wind retreats and foul smoke pours out from the oven. Everything is eerily still. I look inside. There is an infant's corpse there. Staring back out at me with dead, beautiful blue eyes.
"Tommy?"
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