The heat radiating through the pane made me gasp.

I reached down with one hand and grabbed the window lock.

I twisted the brass latch, but it stayed firm.

Landon had painted the window frames shut two summers ago.

He never got around to scraping the dried white paint from the tracks.

I pounded on the glass with the heel of my palm.

The thump was dull and quiet.

“Arthur!” I screamed.

The sound scraped against my raw throat.

Arthur kept his back turned, adjusting the nozzle of his hose.

The spray of water sparkled in the afternoon sun.

I banged harder, using my forearm so I wouldn’t hurt my hand.

Rowan let out a weak, high-pitched whimper.

His little legs twitched against my stomach.

“Help!” I cried out, my voice cracking. “Arthur, please!”

He didn’t move.

The double-paned glass muffled everything.

The street was empty, the neighborhood quiet under the heavy midday heat.

A sharp, stabbing pain flared in my lower abdomen.

It felt like a hot iron pressing into my pelvis.

My knees buckled.

I slid down the wall, my back dragging against the plaster.