The memorial hall was draped in heavy black velvet, the air thick with the suffocating scent of fresh lilies. American flag paintings lined the mahogany walls as high-society guests gathered to mourn.

Pastor: We are gathered here today to commit the soul of Eleanor Vance to eternal peace.

Marcus: She was a wonderful woman, Pastor. A quiet, peaceful departure is what she deserved.

Ethan: You liar! You know she isn't dead!

Marcus: Grab that boy! He's out of his mind with grief!

Young Ethan's knuckles turned white around the steel handle of the claw hammer he had smuggled under his coat. Tears streaked through the dirt on his cheeks, but his eyes were filled with pure, desperate fury.

Ethan: She talked to me! She whispered through the floorboards before you brought her here!

Marcus: Stop him! Somebody grab him before he desecrates her memory!

Ethan broke away from the usher's reach, his heavy boots pounding against the hardwood floor. He sprinted straight down the center aisle, raising the heavy hammer high above his head toward the polished white casket.

Marcus: I said stop!

The crack of Marcus’s palm striking Ethan's face echoed off the high ceiling, sending the boy tumbling sideways into the pews.

Ethan: You won't kill her! I won't let you lock her in the dark!

Marcus: Security, get him out of here right now!

Ethan scrambled back to his feet, ignoring the blood dripping from his lip. With a guttural scream, he launched himself onto the platform, bringing the steel hammer crashing down directly onto the sealed lid of the white casket.