Melody slid out from under the bed like a shadow, her movements quiet and controlled. She rose to her feet, her eyes locked on the sleeping figure before her. The porcelain figurine was still in her hand as her grip tightened until her knuckles ached. She lifted it above her head, her gaze narrowing. One swing, a sharp crack to the skull, and Melanie wouldn't even have time to make a sound.
But as she looked closer, she noticed something that made her pause.
Her father had pulled the blanket up over Melanie's entire body, right up to even covering her head. Melody's frown deepened. If she used the figurine now, the blanket might soften the blow. Worse, it could leave marks that didn't fit the story she wanted. And if Richard came back and saw her before the blow was deadly...
