We were a hostage in our own house. Of course, Tommy didn’t keep us there…but we knew he would be waiting once we came back.

At night, Tommy would sit us down and give us life lessons. He would tell us how to be good people, how to love one another. I remember one time, during the first week, I looked out my front window across the street into Megan’s living room.

I saw Tommy there, speaking to her family on the couch.

The Tommy in front of my family stopped speaking immediately and stared long and hard at me. Then he went to the window and closed the curtains before continuing.

During the evenings, as the fathers on our street came home from work, I’d see them meet briefly in the road, muttering to each other and casting looks over their shoulders. There was a mutual terror shared between them, an unspoken knowledge that they had to keep Tommy secret, that getting the police involved would only lead to…well…nothing good. I imagine upon arrival that Tommy threatened our family and then showed some sign of physical dominance over the men. I remembered the banging against the walls and the way my father had gripped his throat.

But what the hell had he said to them? Why did they allow him to infest our homes?

Well…a month later I found out.

They were plotting against Tommy.

They were going to kill him.