Eddie stood abruptly, and while he wanted to stomp, wanted to throw things and scream, he stalked quietly up the stairs and out of the basement, without a word.

He was shaking by the time he made it out into the yard. There was more space, the rolling plains of the frame and the sky stretched above them, but it felt weirdly oppressive, like it was all closing in on them, the shadows too big and dark and every little sound gripping tightly at his throat.

There was wood out back, and rocks, too. Noticeably few tools, but they didn't keep anything around that might make too much noise. He picked up a wooden 2x4, weather worn and bleached from the sun.