Blake Crouch: Locked doors

Sara’s eyes met Martin’s. She saw intensity there, but also resignation, and something else. Something soft and happy. Eventually his lips curled into a grin.

“But we haven’t gotten to the part where I pretend to be dragged off into the woods, kicking and screaming. That’s the best part.”

Sara placed her hands on her hips, feeling herself smile. “I’m sure we would have all been terrified.”

Martin sat back down. “You’re the boss. And if the boss wants to do marshmallows, who am I to argue?”

“I thought you’re the one who created the Center,” Laneesha asked.

Martin glanced at Sara. There was kindness in his eyes, and maybe some resignation, too.

“Sara and I created it together. We wanted to make a difference. The system takes kids who are basically good but made a few mistakes, sticks them into juvee hall, and they come out full blown crooks. The Center is aimed at giving these kids positive direction and helping them to change.” Martin smiled sadly. “Well, that was its purpose.”

“It’s bullshit the man cut your program, Martin.” Meadow tossed a stick onto the fire.

“It sucks,” Cindy added.

There were nods of agreement. Martin shrugged. “Things like this happen all the time. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you kids. Sara, Jack, and I are a small family, but you guys are like our-”

Martin screamed in mid-sentence, then fell backward off the log, rolling into the bushes and the darkness.