Hounds of Love Page #4

Yeah? Well I'll tell you what.

I'll make it

my f***ing business.

Anyone's dumb enough to

let them kids back here again.

- F*** off.

- John, come out here.

- Stop hiding behind your missus.

- I said f*** off!

John! Come and face me, ya

f***in' weak piece of sh*t!

Piss off you f***!

What the f*** do you know?

Good luck to ya.

I'm callin' the cops.

F***in' call the cops. I bet

they'd like to know about

the f***in' boot-load of video players

I saw ya bring in last week, huh?

You're an embarrassment.

Troy:
Just keep it

f***ing down

and stop going

through my f***ing mail.

Evelyn:
Lick my ass, you dog!

She's here.

Take her hand.

Hang on.

Uh-uh.

Come on.

Shut the f*** up.

Vicki:
F*** you.

F*** you.

I'm so sorry.

I'm gonna lie down.

Go and pick us up

some headache pills.

Drop her thing off

while you're out.

John.

I love you.

What was that?

I love you.

Hmm.

Well, how'd you feel

if you never saw me again?

That's exactly

what would have happened

if she'd have

got out that window.

Fix that sh*t up.

Sergeant Mathews: What were the

circumstances of the separation?

Just that if there was violence,

- or if one of you was involved with

someone else, you know... -Maggie: No.

Sergeant Mathews: It could

be a contributing factor.

Maggie:
No, it wasn't

anything like that.

I mean, lots of kids'

parents separate.

Sergeant Mathews:

Well, all I'm saying is,

we see kids run off from

situations like this every day.

Did you check for a note?

Maggie:
Uh, no,

she didn't leave a note.

She just had pillows

under her sheets.

Sergeant Mathews:

Well, there you go.

She's probably just had a big

night and is sleeping it off.

I mean, you were teenagers once.

Maggie:
Yeah,

but this is not like her.

I've spoken to her friends,

her boyfriend.

- I mean, no one's heard from her.

- Please, try and relax.

99% of the time, these

things sort themselves out.

- If she's not back by Monday...

- Monday?

I mean, she's...

What about those

girls down there?

Mrs. Maloney,

we're not in New York.

Those girls, all runaways,

all with stories

just like this one.

Now, I've got kids.

I feel for you.

But trust me, I've been

doing this a long time.

Now, hard as it might be, what I need you

to do is stay home and wait this out.

Look, I'll tell you

what I'll do.

I'll pass around

a description of her

and if I hear of anything,

I'll let you know.

Otherwise, come back Monday.

I'll eat my hat if you do.

She's not a runaway.

In the letterbox.

This just doesn't make sense,

the way it's written.

She just wouldn't

have said this.

Well, maybe she's trying

to make you feel guilty.

Oh, would you stop

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