A cold fall wind rattled the thin windowpanes of an aging apartment building in a working-class part of Philadelphia. Little Annie Shaw sat on the windowsill, clutching a stuffed teddy bear to her chest. In the distance, the steady wail of an emergency siren drifted through the night.
The girl had gotten used to frightening sounds no child should know. She was only seven, but there was a seriousness in her eyes that belonged to someone much older. She was waiting for her dad, who had gone overseas with the Army.
Mike Shaw was a real hero to his daughter in his camouflage uniform. He had promised he’d be home by her eighth birthday. Every evening Annie crossed another day off on the little wall calendar in her room.
Her mother, Ellen Shaw, worked as a nurse at a VA-affiliated trauma hospital. She picked up double shifts just to keep the bills paid. Because of that, Annie was often left at home with her stepfather, Boris Tate.
Boris had come into their lives about a year earlier. Ellen had been worn down, lonely, and trying to hold the household together. She thought she was choosing stability.
But Boris turned out to be nothing like the dependable man he’d pretended to be. He had found a way to dodge any real responsibility and spent most of his days sunk into the couch drinking cheap beer. He contributed little and complained a lot.
His heavy footsteps sounded in the dark hallway of the apartment. Annie instinctively pulled herself tighter into the corner of the windowsill, trying to disappear. The door to her small room creaked open.
Boris stood in the doorway with a sour look on his puffy face. He smelled like stale beer and discount cigarettes. He leaned against the frame and glared at the child.
“Why are you sitting in the dark like that?” he said roughly. Annie said nothing and held the old teddy bear tighter. The toy still carried the faint scent of her father’s cologne.
“Your mom called. She’s staying overnight again,” Boris went on. He walked into the room and dropped his weight onto the child’s bed. The springs groaned under him.
Annie looked back out the window at the black sky. She knew what was coming next. Boris hated Mike with the kind of bitterness that had nowhere decent to go.
“Still waiting to spot your big hero dad out there?” he asked with a sneer. Annie gave a small nod, swallowing hard.
She remembered clearly the foggy morning her father had left. He had wrapped her in his big arms and told her to listen to her mother. She kept that memory tucked away like something precious.
Then Boris stood up abruptly and stepped close to her. He yanked the teddy bear out of her thin arms. Annie let out a frightened cry and reached for it.
