DADDY LEFT EARLY early. Hanna had set the soft chimes of her alarm, because she and Marie-Anne had some thinking to do before Mommy woke up, and she heard him going down the stairs. It was a tremendously good sign and bode well for her plan: it might take time for Mommy to bleed to death. Hanna saw more and more how Daddy was teeter-tottering. She’d always been able to count on him to be there for her, to take her side even if he had to pretend with Mommy. But things were changing, she could tell (and Marie-Anne agreed). He was asking questions. He was looking at her with ghost eyes instead of sparkly ones. Mommy was getting under his skin, burrowing like an icky worm. Maybe she would munch-munch on his brain until he couldn’t think or move.
Hanna hoped she was strong enough to do what needed to be done. Helmetless Head was a productive exercise, beyond getting her kicked out of Pissdale. Skulls were hard; a lot of force would be required to crack one open. It would expose her, but when Daddy returned to his un-spelled self, his eyes bright and full of love, he would understand why she had to do it. Why Mommy had to die so he could be saved. In the end, he’d thank her.
Not wanting any of her favorite pajamas or clothing to get stained with blood, she put on a dress she didn’t like. She considered the shoes in her closet—she needed something to protect her feet. Her Mary Janes and Keds were down by the front door, and as much as she liked her ladybug rain boots they’d be hard to tiptoe in. Still in her socks, she slipped out into the hallway and monitored Daddy’s movements in the kitchen. His coffee was already smelling up the whole house. She heard the rising tone, glurg-glurg-glurg, as he filled his mug, and saw him pass beneath her on his way to the door. She waited a second after he left to make sure he was really gone and not coming back for something he forgot. Then she made her way downstairs.
After putting on her sneakers—and hoping they wouldn’t squeak—she went to the utility drawer and rummaged around. Daddy always kept a few basic tools there: a couple of screwdrivers, an adjustable wrench (which she liked to play with, tightening the clampy parts around her finger), and—there it was—a big claw hammer. It was heavy—heavy enough that if she dropped it on her foot, even with shoes on, she’d probably break a toe. She carried it back upstairs in both hands, holding it as she would in the decisive moment before she smashed it into Mommy’s head. That was Part Two of her plan, because she wasn’t confident that she could knock Mommy unconscious with one blow, and she didn’t want Mommy wresting the weapon from her.
She left the hammer just outside of Mommy’s bedroom door, then snuck back to her own room to get what she needed for Part One. It was a very funny plan, really. But Part One might just make her go Aaaaaahhh! Ooohhhhhh! and flop around and whack her chin on the floor, maybe knocking out a tooth or biting through her lip. If Hanna was very very lucky, Mommy would knock herself unconscious, bonking her head on the bedside shelf. And if that happened, Part Two would be so much easier—she’d just have to burst in and whack away with the hammer until her brains started to ooze out.
Save Daddy. Even if it didn’t go the easy way, even if she had to look Mommy in the eye and hit her again and again, she had to save Daddy.
Mommy was breathing loudly when Hanna cracked open the door: not quite a snore, but a throaty sound. It was enough to cover the pit-pat of her shoes as she crept over to Mommy’s side of the bed. Marie-Anne kept an eye on Mommy as Hanna executed Part One. When Mommy started moving, Hanna hunkered down, hiding. But she was just turning over. Mommy let out a little fart and Hanna almost lost it. She laughed silently and got back to work.
When she was finished, she snuck back out and shut the door so so softly. She took up her position outside Mommy’s room, hammer in hand, ready to charge in. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but Mommy, even though she slept later than everyone else, was usually up by 7:15.
Time dripped by and Hanna feared she might die of boredom. Or curl up beside the hammer and fall asleep, missing her cue. She poked her head in a couple of times and didn’t even try that hard to keep from making any noise when she shut the door. But Mommy still didn’t wake up.
Oh! Brilliant most fantastic idea!
It was even better than if Mommy woke up the regular way.
She left the hammer beside the door, then jogged downstairs to orchestrate her great Good Morning.