That final night felt suffocating. Frank watched TV, muttering insults. Carol clattered dishes in the kitchen. Tyler laughed loudly at his phone.
Madison avoided them and went to her room early. She hung the dresses neatly, letting her fingers brush over the fabric of the main one, feeling nervous excitement for the first time. Just a few more hours, she told herself.
At 2 a.m., she woke suddenly.
A faint creak. Movement.
Her heart pounded as she reached for the lamp and switched it on.
Her closet was open.
The garment bags were unzipped.
She rushed to the first dress—slashed from top to bottom. The second—cut straight through. The third and fourth—completely destroyed, hanging in torn strips.
