I realized I hadn’t been in the house. I had been walking. I looked at my phone.I went to our cheap, notebook computer. Stace used it for school. The battery had died, but the power cord still worked. I looked up spying on cell phones. The old phones, like mine, could be set to listen even when folded and sleeping. What bum could afford that kind of surveillance? The kind that could afford to give away heroin, the answer came to me. I didn’t understand it, but if figuring it out would save my family, I had to be the strong one.Before the banks closed that Saturday, I deposited seven hundred dollars into my savings account, to spend on the credit debit, which fortunately wouldn’t bill me for three weeks.The next week passed slowly. Terry stopped by once, to dose Donald and throw a quick fuck into me, in the kitchen. He spoke with Stace in private. She told me after he left, and after I hid my cellphone in my husband’s sock drawer.“He gave me fifty dollars to buy a little girl dress.”. A last tremor ran through her body but faded fast. She had been shaken awake. Pushing aside her confusion for a moment she focussed on her need for a drink. Her mouth was at that stage whereby it was so dry that it was sticky and her lips glued together. She padded softly downstairs, not wanting to wake her sleeping family, and opened the fridge. Orange juice would suffice. As she leant against the bench in the dark she heard a noise. The slapping of the back door on the doorframe. An instinctive fear welled up inside her but she forced herself to investigate. The back door was opened. It swung eerily back and forth in the chilling breeze and thudded against the wood of the doorframe. She cast her eyes over the backyard but saw nothing. Then, as she was pulling the door closed she glimpsed movement in the shadows, out by the back fence. There, silhouetted by the fence was a figure. She took a step back from the doorway and blinked. When she opened her eyes again it was gone. .
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