Molly’s mind ran through the possibilities. Psycho boy surely wouldn’t follow her outside if for some reason he were afraid to go out. She wondered if he knew the police had come for him. He seemed not to be functioning. She made her body relax, and she wandered back to the couch, he had been ok with her there. She would just sit and wait for them to come in. He didn’t have any weapons. He hadn’t gone after her, at least not directly.

Molly settled into the cushions and turned her attention to the TV, ignoring the guy completely. Her mind raced from diagnosis to diagnosis. He had an acute phobia of something outside. Agoraphobia didn’t fit; he had been comfortable in his world outside. Maybe it was just the shock of being in a new place, but even that seemed unlikely. She heard him creeping around and it was freaking her out. She watched him walk toward the window.

Seeing her chance, Molly ran for the door, she made it outside before he could catch wind of her intentions. Officers soon surrounded her, with weapons drawn. She felt like babbling, and if she hadn’t been herself, she would have falling into feminine disarray. Screams came from the open front door, and Molly felt them race down her spine in a chill.

Several of the policemen moved forward when she assured them he wasn’t armed. Two reappeared immediately, pulling the man between them. She heard another scream a moment later. One of the officers settled her into the front seat of a car so she could stay warm while they investigated the house. A young boy faced officer was sitting in the driver’s seat. He smiled at her warmly.

“Cold?” he asked taking in her pajamas.

Molly put her hand in front of the air vent, letting the heat in. She closed her eyes to block out the man’s continued screams. When Molly’s eyes opened again, all she could see were the faint lights of the officer’s beeping monitors, and a faint outline of his form.

“What’s going-“ she began when something heavy landed on the windshield. She squealed and squinted to make out the shape. It was a body. She didn’t stop screaming, and she noticed suddenly that she wasn’t the only one. Every single officer that had been sent to her house was screaming, except the dead one on the hood. They couldn’t possibly see the blood splattered over the windshield in this dark. What was happening?

The officer beside her was vomiting quietly into his hands, unable to open the door, or maybe afraid to. He looked helpless and she understood the feeling. Molly wouldn’t have opened the door for anything. Her ears were pierced with a shrill whistle. It beat against the car like a gust of wind. She covered her ears with her hands and played the “if I don’t see it then it isn’t there game” by closing her eyes.

It could have been hours that the slaughter outside continued. Periodically up and down the street she heard other screams, but the darkness never faded. Molly began to rock back and forth like one of the orphans she had seen. It wasn’t as comforting as it looked.

When the light returned, Molly hesitantly opened the door to the police car. Her foot didn’t touch the ground, but something mushy that reeked of death. She fell to her knees on bloodstained grass and let the vomit she had bravely held in go. Suddenly she knew what the naked man had been afraid of. He was afraid of the dark, and now, so was she. Staggering to her feet she ran into her house, the door above her dining room table hung open at an odd angle as if it would never willingly shut again. She thought perhaps it wouldn’t. What had wanted out the most had come and devoured her world. It had no reason to return to the confines of that heaven. It had a new play place.

Molly fell into a heap and began to sob herself. She stayed in a fetal position for much of the day. When she finally got up, she struggled with the door, and finally closed it. Not that it would do any good. She sat at her couch knowing her life would never be the same. She had failed everyone.