Arthur stepped directly between Tyler and the heavy white box, pushing Tyler back with a firm chest bump. His eyes were wide and filled with a strange, dark intensity that Tyler had never seen in his father before. The calm, polished man was completely gone, replaced by someone desperate and terrified.
Arthur: You were supposed to stay at the chapel like I told you!
Tyler: What is inside this box, Dad? I heard someone crying in there!
Arthur: You are hearing things because you are exhausted and grieving! It is just old equipment from the garage!
Tyler: Do not lie to me! Chloe is missing, and there is a locked coffin sitting in our sunroom!
Arthur reached out to grab Tyler by the collar of his shirt, pulling him away toward the hallway. But Tyler pushed his father's hands off with a violent shove, knocking Arthur back against the white wall. Tyler looked around the sunroom wildly, searching for anything he could use to crack the locks open. In the corner of the room near the tool rack, he saw a heavy orange rubber mallet resting on top of a workbench.
Arthur: Do not touch that tool! Stand down right now!
Tyler: Give me the keys to these padlocks!
Arthur: There are no keys! Leave this room immediately, Tyler! The police are on their way here right now because I called them!
Tyler did not listen to another word coming out of Arthur's mouth. He sprinted across the oak floor, grabbed the heavy orange mallet by its textured handle, and turned back toward the center of the room. Arthur rushed forward, his arms outstretched to tackle his stepson to the ground. Tyler dodged to the side, swung the mallet with all his weight, and smashed it straight down onto the top of the wooden lid. The sound was deafening, a loud wood impact that echoed through the entire house. Arthur screamed out, trying to pull Tyler's arm back with all his remaining strength.
Arthur: Put it down! Stop!
Tyler: Ahhhhh!
Tyler lifted the orange hammer high over his head once again, tears streaming uncontrollably down his cheeks under the bright summer light streaming through the windows. He did not care about the police, he did not care about Arthur, and he did not care about the quiet rules he had followed his whole life. He brought the tool down with raw anguish, hitting the center seam of the white wood over and over. Splinters flew everywhere as a heavy wood crack filled the room. The thick top panel split right down the middle with a massive shattering sound. Arthur stumbled backward in total shock, his hands raised in horror as he realized he could not stop his stepson.