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“You ain’t goin’ out dressed like that.”

“But Daddy…”

“No.”

“Mom?”

“But Tony, it just a costume.”

“She looks like a slut, Connie, and she ain’t goin’ out like that.”

“But Dad, all my friends…”

“I don’t care what your friends do. Now, if you wanna to go trick or treatin’, change into something more presentable for a fourteen year-old girl or you can’t go. You will not leave this house lookin’ like that.”

Heather stormed out making all the disgruntled noises that teenage girls make when they can’t get their way.

“Tony, really. Don’t you think you’re going just a little overboard? I mean she’s growing up. She just wants to be like everybody else her age. Jennifer is wearing one of a nurse. It’s no big deal.”

“What the hellsamatter with you, Connie? Did you see that costume? She looked like a hooker; wearing a skirt that came up to her crotch and her ass cheeks hanging out.”

“She had on short-shorts underneath, Tony. Nothing showed.”

“Jesus Christ, Connie. I don’t care. That top was too low for a girl built like her. Half of her was bulgin’ out. She’s fourteen, for Christ’s sake. Not twenty-four. Do you know what dressing like that says to boys … to men?”

“No, Tony! I don’t! What does it say?” Connie’s tone became belligerent as Tony struck the femininist chord.

“It says that she can be had. That’s what it says.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Tony. Come out of the dark ages, will you? That kind of archaic thinking went out a long time ago.”

“You believe that, huh? What fucking planet did you come from? I don’t give a shit what those femininists’ say. Men are men. Period. And if they see a woman—or a girl—dressed like she was tonight, you better believe they’re going to think she’s advertising.”

“I just think you’re being too strict.”

“Too strict? She wants to look like those half-naked women on those damn music videos. They all look like tramps; with the revealing clothes and the grinding against each other. I let her dye her hair blonde, didn’t I? That’s as far as I go.”


“Well?” Heather said as she entered the kitchen. ‘Is this okay?” She had donned some dark gray sweatpants and a light gray sweatshirt stained with “blood,” and had painted blood trickling from the corners of her mouth to match.

“That’s much better. Be home by nine-thirty.”

“Nine-thirty? But all my friends…”

“It’s a school night.”

“Jesus, Dad, why can’t I just this once stay…”

“Do you want to make it nine? If you do, just keep arguing with me.”


Heather unleashed an exaggerated eye-roll, made more teenage noises and turned on her heel. “Fine! You always ruin my fun.” The door slammed in a huff as she began the three-block walk to Jennifer’s house.

Tony stared at the closed door in the Living Room for a moment and then turned to his wife.

“Look, Connie, I know you mean well; and it’s not her that I don’t trust. She’s a great kid. It’s just that every time I turn on the TV or the radio, I hear about another young woman who’s disappeared, only to be found days later, dead. Some of these girls are in their twenties. What the hell does a fourteen-year-old know? Nothing, that’s what. She thinks life is one big social event. She doesn’t have the street smarts to avoid a dangerous situation.”

“She just wants to have a little fun.”

“She can still have fun without drawing that kind of attention to herself. Most guys are civilized enough to let it go when they hear the word, ‘no.’ They’re not the ones I’m worry about. There are animals out there that don’t bother to ask. They just take. I don’t want my only daughter getting beaten and raped—or worse—because of the way she’s dressed. And you know damn well I’m right.”

“Okay, okay. You’ve made you point. Can we just drop it?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Connie’s expression softened. She walked to her husband, threw her arms around his thick neck and gave him a hug. “I know you want to protect her, but she can’t live in a bubble. She has to experience life on her own terms. We did. Now, why don’t you go lie down and take a nap before you go to work.”

---

Tony walked into the kitchen after waking from his nap. He looked around, but didn't see Heather.

“Where is she? It’s ten thirty.”

“Oh, I’m sure she at Jen’s rooting through all their goodies. She should be home soon.”

“Call her cell and tell her to get her ass home. She’s in big trouble.”

“Jesus, Tony…”

Connie picked up the wall phone in the kitchen and dialed a number. A few seconds later she hung up and dialed again.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s going directly to her voicemail.”

“Call Jennifer’s house.”

As he listened, every muscle in his body tensed as the weight of the world descended upon him.

“Hi, Sandy. This is Connie. Is Heather still there? No, she’s not. I… No. What time? Nine fifteen? And Heather wasn’t with her? Oh my God. No, no, Sandy. That’s…. No. I’m sorry but I have to go.”

Connie hung up the phone. Her face ashen, she looked up at Tony – the sudden fear in her eyes, unmistakable. With her heart in her throat, her trembling voice managed to say the words. “I think we better call the police.”

---

When the two uniforms left Heather’s house, they made a beeline to talk to Jennifer. They wanted to question her as to the night’s events. They arrived to find a hysterical teenager being questioned by her distraught parents.

“Tell us what happened, Miss.”

Jennifer settled herself enough to talk to the officers, now that her parents had deferred to the two cops. “She made me promise not to tell. She was mad at her father. She said she would be home in time. We met these guys…”

“What guys?” her father bellowed.

“Please, Mr. Browning. Let us ask the questions, sir. Jennifer. Tell us about the guys you met.”

“We had just left my house… ten minutes, maybe. A car pulled up next to us and these guys asked us if we wanted to go to a party.”

Jennifer continued to detail as much as she could remember about the guys and the car. When the cops got all they were going to get from her, they went back to Heather’s house to talk to her parents.

“Apparently, Mr. DeNelli, Heather accepted an invitation from several young men to go to a party. She wanted Jennifer to go, but she knew her father wouldn’t approve. So, Heather went by herself. Jennifer said that she was angry with you. Did something happen here that we need to know?”

Two hours later, the police left. Night turned into day. The police began combing the surrounding area at dawn, waiting only that long to begin the search in the expectation that the angry teenager would show up at home by then. Day turned to night, and back into day again with no results. A week passed before a knock came at the door.

“Mr. and Mrs. DeNelli, I am Detective Burns. May I have a minute of your time?”

Burns showed the distressed parents a picture of a young blond woman that had been found before sun-up that morning. Her skimpy costume dress was around her waist and her top had been ripped off. She had been raped and beaten beyond recognition, and her throat had been slit.

“I was hoping that you might be able to help us out here. Can you tell me if this is what your daughter was wearing when she left that evening?”

“No,” Tony said. “She was wearing sweats. Not a costume like that. I would never let her go out wearing something like…”

Tony froze as his heart leapt into his throat. He recognized the costume as the one he made Heather change out of that night. He began sobbing.

---

“Honey? Honey, are you okay?” Connie asked, shaking her husband trying to wake him.

Tony bolted upright in bed at his wife’s touch. The sheets were soaked from his sweat and he was trembling beyond control. Dazed, he looked around; not knowing what was happening, or where he was.

“Tony? You all right, honey?”

“I… I ain’t sure.”

“You were having a bad dream… crying out, sobbing.”

Tony swung his legs out of bed, stumbled to the bathroom and drenched his face with water. He looked in the mirror and saw a terrified man. Slowly he began to realize.

It was a dream.

He walked back into the bedroom and told his wife what he could remember of his fading nightmare.

“It was about Heather. Something bad happened.”

“She’s fine, honey. Go see for yourself.”

Tony peeked into Heather’s room to see his only daughter sound asleep, her teddy bear curled up tight in her arms. He began to cry.

---

“Heather’s going out with Jennifer tonight, Tony.”

“I don’t want her out too late.”

“She’ll be home on time. She’s a good kid.” Connie grinned at her husband. “Much better than you were at her age.”

At that moment, Heather popped into the kitchen. “I’m ready. I’m heading over to Jen’s.”

Tony took one look.

“You ain’t goin’ out dressed like that.”

“But Daddy…”

“No.”

“Mom?”

“But Tony, it just a costume.”

“She looks like a slut, Connie, and she ain’t goin’ out like that.”

“But Dad, all my friends…”

“I don’t care what your friends do. Now, if you wanna to go trick or treatin’, change into something more presentable for a fourteen year-old girl or you can’t go. You will not leave this house lookin’ like that.”

Heather stormed out making all the disgruntled noises that teenage girls make when they can’t get their way. She returned a few minutes later.

“Well?” Heather said as she entered the kitchen. ‘Is this okay?” She had donned some dark gray sweatpants and a light gray sweatshirt stained with “blood,” and had painted blood trickling from the corners of her mouth to match.

“That’s much better. Be home by nine-thirty.”

“Nine-thirty? But all my friends…”

Something began to trickle to the surface; a foreboding from deep within. He looked at his wife. “On second thought, I think I’m gonna go with her.”

***