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...


The End

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