My sister is out in the street, the sound of her sandals slapping against the pavement echoing between the houses.
"Nance, he's in the trees!" Shelly yells.
It looks like one of the tall trees has wrapped itself around her, like in a nursery rhyme where plants and things sprout arms and legs and faces. Only this one is locked around her throat, strangling her. He lets go.
Nancy is crying inside her hands.