It was the way the giant looked at her that frightened her.
It was a flat stare, like he was a stone statue in a park. He didn’t blink. He didn’t move from beside her.
He just stared at her, as if he were in a trance.
A chill flashed down her spine. She immediately sensed from his odd stare that something was wrong with him. Daddy would have said the man’s elevator didn’t go to the top floor, but Mom said it wasn’t nice to use that expression. Mom would have said that the man was “disturbed.”
His mouth and chin were covered in dark smudges, and when he stuck out his fat tongue and licked his lips, she knew he’d been eating chocolate candy.
But the strange look in his eyes made her fear that he wanted to eat her.
She realized that she had opened her mouth to scream, but she didn’t hear herself screaming, because she wasn’t wearing her speech processor and couldn’t interpret sounds without it. But she felt her frantic heartbeat pounding in her head like a drum, and she thought she was screaming, because her tight throat vibrated with words exploding out of her.
Mom, Daddy, help me, please! Daddy! Mom!
Across the room, Mickey went wild in his cage, wings flapping, the cover sliding to the floor.
The giant bounced off the bed and clapped his hands to his ears. He shouted at her, ropes of saliva flying from his mouth, but she didn’t know what he was saying. She couldn’t read lips, had never had to learn.
Why was this man in her room? Where were her parents?
She sat up, to try to run away. The giant thrust out his huge hand and shoved her in the chest.
She slammed against the headboard, striking her temple, and literally saw stars spin in her eyes, like in some of the cartoons she liked to watch.
Dizzy, she slumped onto the bed.
She wanted to scream again, if she could get enough air in her lungs, but she was afraid. She imagined the giant might flatten her with one blow from his powerful hand.
Where were Mom and Daddy? Did they hear her scream? Where were they?
The giant turned away from her and lumbered like a robot to Mickey’s cage. Mickey was frantic, darting back and forth.
The giant opened the cage and stuck his hand inside. Mickey tried to escape his thick fingers by fleeing to the far corner, but there was nowhere else for the bird to go.
No, she said. Leave Mickey alone.
The giant’s hand swallowed Mickey whole.
He’s only a bird, he won’t hurt you, leave him alone, mister, please, she begged.
But the giant ignored her. She wasn’t sure that she was speaking loud enough for him to hear her.
Or maybe he heard her fine, but didn’t care. He’d almost knocked her out when he’d pushed her, and hadn’t seemed concerned at all that he’d hurt her.
The giant brought his hand out of the cage. He squeezed it into a fist for a few seconds, and then opened his palm. Mickey dropped like a stone to the floor, loose feathers fluttering in the air.
Tears of anger flooded her eyes.
You didn’t have to kill him! she shouted. She was suddenly so furious she wished she were bigger, so she could teach this terrible man a lesson.
The giant studied a few of the feathers remaining in his palm, as if surprised to find them there.
Taking advantage of his fascination with the feathers, she jumped off the bed. She felt sort of woozy, and her head throbbed, but she was okay.
She balled her hands into fists and raced to the door.
But the giant was fast-he reached out and caught the sleeve of her Goofy pajama top. She automatically started to scream again, but quickly bit her tongue so hard that blood flooded her mouth.
If she screamed, he would hurt her bad. Those enormous hands of his would crush her.
Please don’t hurt me, she said in what she hoped was a soft, calm voice. Please, please. I’m sorry I screamed, mister.
He stared at her with his statue eyes. His lips moved.
She thought he said, We have to go. But she could have been wrong. She hoped so much that she was wrong.
She didn’t want to go anywhere with him. She would rather stick her hand in a beehive than go anywhere with this awful man.
Then he plucked her off the floor and slung her over his shoulder as if she were a stuffed animal he had won at a carnival, and she realized, to her horror, that she had been right.
14
As Jada screamed upstairs, Leon swaggered down the hallway toward Simone.
Poised on the threshold of the master bedroom, Simone would not have been more shocked to see this man suddenly in her house if he’d materialized in a cloud of mist from a genie’s bottle. But Jada’s terrified shrieks made the questions of why and how he’d invaded their home irrelevant.
She had to protect her daughter. At the moment, nothing else mattered.
As Leon strutted toward her, grinning that gap-toothed Cheshire cat grin, limbs loose and cocky, she hissed, bared her teeth like a feral animal, and charged him.
It didn’t matter that he was a man, taller than her, stronger, or that he might also have a gun. Her need to protect Jada was as imperative as the need to breathe.
She went to kick him in the groin. When she was a kid, her big brother had taught her that if she ever found herself in a fight with a guy, to call him first-and if he wasn’t around, to kick the guy in the nuts and run like hell. A blow to the family jewels tilted the scales in a woman’s favor.
Leon saw the kick coming and began to turn, but she still landed a solid blow with the ball of her right foot, and the feel of her foot smashing into him was savagely satisfying.
He grunted and doubled over. “Fuckin’. . bitch!”
She dashed past him, but he snagged the hem of her bathrobe and yanked it. The front of the robe flapped open, and her legs got tangled in the folds of cloth. She lost her balance, windmilled her arms, and crashed against the hardwood floor on her shoulder, a cry of pain bursting out of her.
Upstairs, Jada was still screaming, and Simone immediately forgot her own agony.
Oh, God, what’s happening up there? Please, God, help us.
Heart swollen in her throat, she rolled over onto her stomach. She crawled away, the robe coming free, dragging behind her like a tail.
“Back here. . bitch.”
He grabbed her calf. She jerked her leg upward, and his fingers slid off her lotion-slick skin.
She got to her feet again.
My baby, I’ve got to save my baby.
She started running. She got no more than three paces before Leon roared and tackled her.
Together, they slammed to the hardwood. The breath flew out of her lungs. She tasted blood, and vaguely realized that she’d bitten her bottom lip.
It meant nothing to her.
“Get off me!” she screamed hoarsely. She squirmed beneath him, his weight crushing her. “Jada. . Jada!”
Snarling like a rabid wolf, Leon was trying to get his hands around her neck. His eyes burned with fury. He was panting and swearing.
“Bitch. . fuckin’ bitch. . ”
She clawed at his face, went for his eyes.
He pulled his head back, dreadlocks swinging. Her nails scraped down his cheeks, gouging red trails, and her fingers got lost in the coarse thicket of his beard.
“Bitch!”
He backhanded her across the face. Her head rocked sideways. Pain fanned across her jaw, and the world swayed and briefly went dark.