Prologue

      Angry sounds rumbled through the walls.

      The little boy rocked sleepily awake as the thunderous sounds shook his small body. His eyes blinked open to darkness.

      He burrowed his head beneath his covers, cupping his ears with his palms, trying to block out the sounds. But the violent, unrelenting blows pounded ever more fiercely against his eardrums, making them feel sore and beaten.

      He grabbed the pillow and dragged it beneath the covers. He wrapped it around his head to muffle his ears. If he could no longer hear the sounds, maybe he could make them go away.

      Please.

      But the angry sounds kept getting louder, closer.

      He threw the pillow aside and snatched the covers off his head. He dived for the edge of the mattress. His feet tangled in the sheet and blanket. He fell to the floor, kicking and squirming, clumsily trying to free himself.

      Frantically, he fought with the bedding and with the tears of terror beading onto his cheeks as the precious seconds slipped away.

      And the angry pounding came closer, ever closer.

      His tiny fingers clawed at the wood-slat floor as he inched himself beneath his bed. The bulky bedding got caught on the bed frame. He pulled his feet free of it just as the pounding stopped right outside his bedroom door.

      He flattened himself beneath the bed as panic welled sick in his stomach and the rough wooden planks scored his delicate cheek.

      The door to his bedroom banged open. The hallway light blinded him. He raised a shaking hand to shade his eyes, peering through the slits between his small fingers.

      He could see the hideous dark hump swaying in the doorway, so immense its shadow pressed against the walls and climbed to the very ceiling. It was the demon from hell, its eyes glowing red, its rancid stench of smoke and acrid alcohol burning the little boy’s sensitive nostrils.

      He opened his mouth to scream—great, lung-emptying, panic-packed shrieks that tragically could make no sound at all, except in the deepest and darkest recesses of his mind.

      For he knew he could not let the demon hear his screams, or the reasons for them would only get so much worse.

      The demon bellowed its angry thunder throughout the boy’s small body as it stomped into the room, lifted the empty mattress off the bed and threw it against the wall. This was just the beginning of its search. And the longer it searched and could not find him, the more furious it would get. And the more terrible the punishment would eventually be.

      The little boy knew he was worthless and deserved everything he got. He had been told that often enough. He should come out from under the bed now and submit to his punishment.

      But the little boy couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t willingly give up to this angry, hurtful demon. He had to try to escape just one more time.

      The demon stomped over to the closet and yanked open the door, growling and kicking and slamming its huge fists against the closet wall when it realized its prey was not there.

      The little boy knew his chance had come. He slid out from under the bed and quickly scampered over to the bedroom door.

      His heart hammered in his chest as he ran down the hallway as fast as his legs could carry him.

      He must hide. But where could he go? He’d been found in the living room behind the couch. He’d been found in the kitchen under the table. He’d even been found in the laundry room at the bottom of the hamper beneath a pile of dirty clothes.

      Maybe the demon wouldn’t think to look in that old storage shed behind the garage. The little boy jumped uncontrollably as the next angry bellow shook the hallway walls. It was coming out of the bedroom.

      He had to get away. He could think of nowhere else to go. He would head for the shed.

      The little boy’s bare feet slapped on the floorboards as he ran for the back door. He grasped the knob and pulled it open. The freezing night air hit him like an icy slap. He held tightly to the rickety banister as he scurried down the porch stairs. But in the panic of his headlong rush, he tripped on the steps and fell face first