The blade of a circular saw screamed through a pinewood board, spitting sawdust. A ten-pound hammer crushed the head of a nail, sinking it into the wood. He crushed another, and another; the speed of his handiwork conveying its urgency.

Seven year old Anna was sitting on the floor of her upstairs bedroom shaking. She peered down into the basement through an air vent in the floor to see what her father was doing.

He stepped aside for a moment from his hammering to grab some more nails.
Anna saw what he was making - a homemade coffin...a small coffin.
Sensing Anna's stare, her father glanced up over his shoulder. Anna ducked out of sight, running to her bed and hiding under her covers. She picked up her phone and dialed Miss Morrison, her school counselor's emergency number.

A woman answered the phone. "This is Jane Morrison."

"Miss Morrison?" Anna asked in a child's whisper.

"Anna...?"

"Yes…

"Anna? Are you okay?"

"I'm scared..."

"Why? Why are you scared, honey?"

"My dad wants to hurt me again. I can hear him...I don't know what to do.”

"Okay, listen honey, I'm going to call the police...you just hold on, I'm on my way too. Okay?"

"Okay...Please hurry," starting to cry."

"Just stay where you are."

"Okay, I will."

Miss Morrison telephoned the police, then dropped the phone....