Rusty took the bucket out of the pantry in the backshed, snickering vindictively to himself. The bucket was slightly heavy, but he managed well enough.

In the meanwhile, Matthew was still trying to struggle out of Faith’s grip. The raven haired teenager was practically fuming at the small boy before her.

She yanked him backwards, and he finally succumbed to the larger force.

“DEATH TO THE BABY SITTER !” Rusty cried, and launched the bucket at Faith.

The contents – white flour – went flying, and hit Faith square in the face.

She stayed still for a moment, until her shoulders began trembling with what looked like fury.

“Uh…Rusty, I think we should run,” Matthew whispered.

“Oh, no, darlings,” Faith said, leaning forward, an evil smile on her face. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Outside the house, neighbors wondered why Matthew and Rusty were screaming kingdom come.

Revenge had been exacted.