But the relief was short-lived. If Ethan was safe at my mother's house, then who was lying in the snow right now?
Through the window, I saw the horse costume swaying violently in the deep drifts. Muffled, desperate cries echoed from within.
"Let go of me! Let me out!"
Diana's son jumped up and down, his face flushed with cruel excitement. "Bury him! Bury him deep!"
The other children swarmed like locusts. They scooped up heavy chunks of snow, piling them onto the horse's back, packing it tight around the legs. The costume struggled, thrashing against the weight, but the movements grew weaker with every passing second.
Even if it wasn't my son, there was a human being inside that suit. My conscience wouldn't let me watch a murder.
"Make them stop! They're burying him alive!"
I bolted from the sofa, but the adults merely chuckled. The atmosphere remained terrifyingly casual.
Aunt Brenda sat in the armchair, cracking sunflower seeds. She spat out a shell and shrugged. "What's the worst that can happen? Kids are just playing. Didn't we all play rough in the snow when we were little?"