The small boy awoke with a start at the rattle of a key in the lock. He squinted up at his stepfather, Kurt, who threw the boy’s dirty clothes at him.

"You can just wear these until you see fit to clean them yourself. Now come out of there."

Bruno (he picked this name because he despised his real one: Clarence) crept out of the closet, clutching his clothes in front to hide his nakedness, and blinked in the bright morning light. He carried the wad of clothes into his bedroom and dressed quickly. Some of the dried mud flaked off when he brushed at it with his good hand. He trudged into the bathroom and noticed in the mirror the shadows under his sorrowful eyes. His shirt was stained and rumpled. Bruno sighed and tried unsuccessfully to remove the rest of the mud.

After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he dabbed some ointment on his blistered fingers, which Kurt had crammed into a skillet of frying chicken the night before.

Eager for breakfast, since he had missed his supper, Bruno hurried into the kitchen.

Kurt was waiting for him. "Well, aren’t you a sight? Teacher’ll think you slept in a pigsty. Serves you right."

Bruno went straight to the sink and picked up a paring knife to peel an orange for his breakfast.

His stepfather yelled, "Look at me, damn you, when I’m talkin’ to you!" He grabbed Bruno’s blistered left hand and yanked the boy around to face him.

Excruciating pain lanced through his body. Shrieking, Bruno swung around and plunged the paring knife into Kurt’s throat.

The man staggered back, pawing at the knife, and collapsed on the floor with blood gushing from his wound.

Bruno’s mother, who sat quietly and sipped her coffee, knowing better than to interfere with Kurt’s disciplinary measures, gasped at the sight of Bruno’s attack and rushed to kneel in the pool of blood by her husband. He was dead.

"Dear Lord, please forgive this poor boy," she moaned, rocking back and forth on her knees. "Come pray with me, Clarence. Ask God for His mercy and forgiveness."

Still in a daze from the shock of killing his stepfather, Bruno moved slowly over to his mother and knelt by her side. He folded his hands and bowed his head, but said nothing. He watched the blood soak into his pants.

"That’s fine, son. Silent prayers will reach God’s ear just as fast as the other kind."

Well done, Clarence. The voice Bruno called Jehovah had spoken to him several times lately.

He smiled.