"C'mon," Laurens begged, dragging me downstairs, "I swear Herc said that there was supposed to be a ton of money from years ago hidden in his house."
"John," I said, but still continuing to walk downstairs, "Herc isn't even home. In fact, we're the only ones here! You can go search for your 'treasure.' I'm just going to do the laundry like Herc told me to."
I strode towards the winger while John scanned the room, and I think he was searching for the money.
A few minutes later as I was feeding a wet slip into the wringer, John's yelp of excitement startled me.
"Holy smoke! Lexi, look!" John pulled a discolored brick out of the wall that turned out to be a box. He opened it and gasped as bills starting fluttering out like butterflies set free. It must be at least a million dollars, and I'm thinking this must be a miracle or something when I feel a tug on my fingers.
My right arm's yanked, and when I look back, it's being pulled into the wringer. I try to scream, but all that comes out is a wheeze. I can't believe what I'm seeing 'cause there would be pain if this were real. I calm down for a second, but then I feel the pain, like I'm being shot and I yell, "John, John, John !" and he runs over, his face white as snow, frozen in disbelief.
My whole arm has been pulled through the wringer all the way up to my armpit, and it's stuck, the wringer's still going, grinding down on my arm.
"Make it stop!" I scream, tears dotting my eyes.
John jumps to life and pulls the plug out of the wall, and I feel a jolt as the wringer stops.
For a moment we both stare at my arm stuck in the wringer, and when I meet John's eyes, he has the same look he had when his turtle was stolen, and I know it's bad. It's terrible, it's horrible, it's my end.
All at once the pain washes over me, and I start to scream, my voice loud- I never knew I had a voice this loud- and I'm screaming, "Get it out! Get it out!" and John's saying, "It'll be okay! It'll be okay!" but I just scream and scream, and he's running outside, shouting for George and Martha Washington, who are out on their porch next door.
Then I'm all alone in the basement, money littering the floor, and everything slows down so that my whole life, my whole world, is reduced to this moment, this wringer, this arm that used to be an arm that I can't imagine will never hold a pen or John's hand or computer mouse or anything at all, ever again.
John comes running back with George Washington, and they get my arm out of the wringer, but by the time they do, I'm done with screaming, I'm all screamed out, and all I can do is moan low in my throat. When Washington picks me up to carry me upstairs, the sudden jolting makes me throw up the toast from breakfast, and then everything goes black for a moment.