The mattress (sky blue chintz, with yellow filigrees) is covered with long, yawning gashes. As you study them, you remember how they got there.
You produce a pearl handled knife from your pocket and run it slowly along one of the last unblemished areas on the mattress, opening up a thin breach in the material. The chintz gives way with a sigh you can just hear beneath the child's wall-rattling howls, and - yes, there's another sound, like that of glass breaking, but slowed. Glancing at the window, you see a long crack in it to match the one in the mattress.
Encouraged, you grab each side of the tear and rip heartily. The material opens up on - well, it's best not to study the stuffing of the mattress. (It's not springs. It's not cotton.)
But the window opens, too, a nice puckered breach just wide enough to admit your body. As it will, just as soon as you...