.. “Don’t stop counting. Hang up now, and when you get to exactly thirty, pick up the phone again. If you hear a dial tone, you call me back, okay... My parents won’t hear it.” ... fourteen, fifteen... And with that she was gone. I hung up, imagining her dialing nine numbers and then her finger hovering over the last one... And ... press... ... twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thir— I lifted the receiver.“Did it ring?” she asked.“Of course not,” I said, laughing a little as I shook my head. A randomly. "If you tell Helen I gave you a super dose of girl power this week Iwill report her to the medical board and I'll make sure she is struck offthe register because of her bizarre relationship with you," the nursesaid with a sneer. "I've got enough on that woman to make sure she couldnever practice medicine in any country in the world." Look at you," she said in the most belittling way possible. "You came inhere three years ago as a red blooded man and now you are a mincing sissyboy. You are the. . The box in the dining room was originally of wood. Not simple pine, but fine-grained walnut, a cabinetmaker's work of art. Enclosing Cindy in darkness. Confining her in a kneeling position for hours at a time. Her only stimuli, the flashing, sparkling lights in the grilled opening at the front of the box. And Linda's voice on the speakers, repeating, repeating, repeating. Sleep... Obey... And the toys.Sometimes, Linda would open a little door in the box, perhaps the one at the back, and. My brother gained his feet, blocking a body blow from Clint. Tim threw a punch, but Clint deflected it with his forearm before slamming his fist into my brother's face. Bright blood spurted. Tim's head snapped backward as he reeled. He groaned, stumbling. Before he could recover, Clint punched hard, planting his fist in my brother's solar plexus. My brother grunted and managed to crack an elbow into Clint's jaw.My brother paid for it, doubling over from another hard blow from Clint. Such anger.