The terror began immediately.
Scratching at the bedroom window, icy chills, voices speaking in empty rooms.
Then Fiona begins to suffer from blackouts - medical experts can't explain. Her eldest daughter, Harmony, is threatened by the appearance of...
He was just in from work when Fiona had to tell him about the hand. And sure enough, around her throat were the markings. Purple and yellow bruising.
'It just came out of the sofa. I'm reading the notes that Angela left. When the next minute, I'm fighting for my life, trying to get this hand away from me.'
'Why didn't you ring me at work?'
'Because I couldn't get away. Anymore dumb-arsed questions?'
There wasn't, and Steven said nothing, not because he felt small being ridiculed, but the plain fact blowing up in his face. He could never protect his family twenty-four-seven from this old man.
Running both hands over his face, he threw his fist into the fridge.
'You think that's going to help?'
'No, but it's worth a shot.' Steven replied back, and he took out his mobile phone. He didn't even care about his knuckles starting to throb. All that mattered to him was putting an end to this freaking nightmare.
Three and half years walking on broken glass, when would it cease; when?
'Who you calling? Chris?'
'Sam. No offence to Chris, but that guy knows as much as we do about this thing. At least with Sam. He knows a little about what we have.'
'Demons?'
'If that's what you want to call that old fucker, yeah.'
And Sam at home, who had missed the phone calls because he was in the bath at the time, saw Steven's number.
'Did you ring me?'
'Yeah, I did. Do you know what that old fucker did today?'
'No?' Sam asked, and he went mute, allowing Steven to explain all the gory details to him.
'I know it's bad there, but rest assured, we're doing everything we can, but it's not that easy. You just have to be patient.'
'Patient?' Steven snapped. 'We're fucking running out of them. I mean, what does this thing want from us?'
'It wants to make you suffer, and then...'
'And then what?'
'It wants to kill you.'
Fiona saw the colour drain from Steven's face; she asked what was wrong?
'We're dead.'
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Onwards and upwards, Sam, a week later with Chris and Lisa, went to the house on Richmond Street, a cornucopia of not knowing what to expect, played on their minds.
Fiona answered the front door. She looked tired, exhausted. For three nights, the old man had kept her and Steven awake. Coming alive at night, banging on the walls and ceiling.
