“Go kill things! Now!” She looked at her new pet with anticipation.
“Yes, Mother.” Eleven-year-old Cordelia smiled as she headed toward the shed. She squeezed the hammer’s handle. It felt strong and heavy.
Cordelia kicked at the dead leaves as she walked. She remembered how Mother showed her how to use the hammer the night she saved her from the nasty man who pretended to be her uncle during the day and crawled into bed beside her at night. Cordelia’s pupils grew as she thought of the wicked man’s toes. Mother kept him silent and seated while she slammed the hammer against each little piggie at least twice. Mother could make anyone stay still.
Cordelia gripped her hammer tighter. She liked the feel of its wooden handle.