Before leaving, Terence took one last look at the door.
He pulled out his phone and dialed a locksmith.
"Hey, eight o'clock tonight. You'll want to bring a power saw. The doorframe's been sealed shut with expanding foam. It'll have to be forced open."
He hung up, took Harrison's hand, and they walked out the front door. Harrison held the little "Boundless Love" commendation banner high, bouncing with every step.
The deadbolt clicked behind them. The apartment fell completely silent.
At six that evening, the family of three came home.
Harrison had a gold badge pinned to his chest. Terence cradled a crystal trophy engraved with the words: Family of the Year — Terence Chavez & Sally Fox.
The key slid into the deadbolt. The moment the door swung open, a wall of stench hit them.
Harrison doubled over on the spot and vomited.
Sally pressed her sleeve over her nose and mouth. "What is that smell?"
Terence strode inside, face twisted. The air purifier in the living room had its indicator light blazing an angry, deep red. A second later it beeped once and shut itself off — the toxic gas concentration had exceeded its limit.
He pounded on my bedroom door twice.
"Libby! What the hell are you doing in there? Look at what you've done to this house!"
He pounded harder.
"Libby, do you even know that your father won the Family of the Year trophy today? You should be proud of this family! Instead you're holed up in that rat's nest throwing a tantrum! I should make you look at this trophy and learn what it means to be a decent human being!"
Still nothing.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
On the other side stood Officer Kevin Lawrence and two uniformed inspectors from the Environmental Health Department.
"Mr. Chavez, I'm real sorry to bother you. From yesterday to now, we've gotten twenty-three complaints from this building alone. Some folks say black water's dripping through their ceiling. Others say toxic fumes are coming through the ventilation ducts. Just a little while ago, old Mrs. Li on the third floor called 911 — said she suspects there's a gas leak in your apartment."
Harrison crouched by the doorway, vomiting all over the floor, but he didn't forget to scream.
"It's all Libby's fault! She's roasting dead rats in her room! It stinks! It stinks so bad!"
Mom clamped a hand over his mouth, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Shh, sweetie, it's not rats. Your sister was just..."
She trailed off.