Prologue

“Hey, little Kallie-bean. Why are you lying like that?”

Daddy’s big figure standing in the doorway to my bedroom sent a long shadow over the floor. I froze as I tore my gaze away from the closet interior to glance down at the shadow he cast across the floor, before ignoring it to get one last look into my closet.

“Come on, little girl. You know your mother doesn’t like it when you lay like that. Your head should be up at your pillows.” His tone was soft, but I could still hear the slightest hint of irritation in his words. He didn’t like it when Mother got angry, even if it was at me. Maybe because it was at me. I grumbled a little but scooted my way straight on the bed so I was lying the proper way. “That’s a good girl.”

Daddy walked over to the side of my bed and glanced at the open closet door before shaking his head. “There’s nothing in there that should hold your attention so much.” He grinned as he pulled the covers up higher to tuck in around my neck until I felt like I was a burrito. He tickled my sides lightly, making me giggle.

The sounds of high heels clicking on the wooden floor of the hallway made the sound die in my throat. Mother didn’t like giggling or any type of silliness. She said that I needed to learn how to be a proper daughter. I wasn’t too sure what that meant, but I guessed it wasn’t fun. Daddy stopped tickling as soon as he heard Mother approaching. Instead, he bent down to give me a swift kiss on the forehead. He straightened back up and stuffed his hands into his pockets just as the light from the hallway dimmed in my big bedroom as Mother stood there. I couldn’t see her expression, but I knew there would be a frown on her face.

“Why isn’t she asleep yet?” Her tone wasn’t like daddy’s. Mother’s voice was always short and angry. I wished I could make her smile just once. I wanted to be the proper little girl she said I needed to be to make her happy, but sometimes I couldn’t help laughing. I liked it when things were funny.

Daddy sighed as he turned to face Mother. “She just laid down a few minutes ago, Vanessa. Give her time.”

Mother let out an exasperated sound, making me frown. I always disappointed her no matter how hard I tried. “Well, leave her alone so she can get some sleep. Little kids can be such monsters when they don’t get at least ten hours of rest.” She turned from the doorway, and the room lit up again without her body keeping the light back. “Even with sleep, they are annoying.” Her words were low, but I could still hear them in the quiet of the room. I tugged the blanket closer and did my best to hold back a sniffle.

Daddy cleared his throat. “Get to sleep, Kallie-bean.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I said and tightly squeezed my eyes closed, showing him I could be a good girl.

He chuckled and turned away. I cracked one eye open when I heard him start to walk away. Instead of going to my open bedroom door, though, he headed toward the open door of my closet, reaching for the handle.

I sat up. “Please leave it open, daddy!”

He turned back to me with his hand on the doorknob. He frowned down at me before looking back at the dark closet. He shook his head but removed his hand and walked to the bedroom door. I let out a sigh of relief and lay back down with my eyes on the open closet. I couldn’t see inside it with the way my bed was sitting. I once tried to move my bed myself so I wouldn’t get into trouble for lying the wrong way. I thought that if I could just put it where I still see the closet while lying in bed the way Mother wanted me to, it would make her happy, but it was so heavy I could barely move it an inch. When I asked Daddy to move it for me, he reminded me how Mother likes everything to have a place, and the place for my bed was right where it was.

“Kallista,” he sighed. “Just get some sleep, okay?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I promised as he closed the door until there was nothing but a small crack letting in the hallway light. I didn’t know why he insisted I have light at night. It confused me. Night was time for the dark. At least the little bit of light let in more shadows. It was better than the plug-in night light that used to be in my room until I begged him to take it out.

As soon as Daddy’s footsteps disappeared down the hall, I shifted on the soft bed until I was lying across it diagonally again. I sighed with relief as I stared into the closet. There were shadows in there—the deepest and darkest shadows. I smiled, wishing that they would come out and play with me.

My legs were cramping, and my butt had gone numb from sitting on the hard floor for so long. I didn’t know how long I’d been in the closet this time. I think it had only been a day, though, since my stomach was empty, but it wasn’t cramping too painfully yet. Plus, I hadn’t given in to the urge to pee on myself.

I should have known better than to get emotional with my mother. When I had gotten home from school, I was already upset because some of the girls had been bullying me again for being antisocial. I didn’t know why they always accused me of acting like I was better than everyone else. That wasn’t the case at all. I just didn’t know how to be friendly. It was easier to read than to try to talk to other kids my age who were talking about boys and wanting to experience their first make-out sessions. Boys didn’t interest me at all, and I would rather stay inside reading. But boys were another thing on the long list that I hadn’t been allowed, anyway.

I was constantly being reminded of my responsibility to my father’s career. He had goals that he wanted to accomplish, and our family needed to be above reproach in the public eye. That meant I was always to be on my best behavior and get perfect grades.

When I came home, my mother had started lecturing me about the B I had received on my geography test the day before. It was too much for me, so I yelled back that I had tried! As it was happening, I had felt something change inside of me, almost like something else was controlling my emotions. It wasn’t until my mother had stepped away from me with wide eyes in a way that she had never done before, that I realized that something had happened.

She immediately sent me into my punishment closet and locked the door without a word. Her reaction scared me more than the fear of being locked away in the darkness. That was until the door closed and the lock snicked into place. That was when the fear had made me break into tears as I sat there and trembled.

I used to love the dark. It was my favorite place to be for as long as I could remember. When my mother decided that my obsession was unhealthy and it needed to be changed, I had sat in the closet and begged the shadows to help me. After nothing had come to save me, the fear had started taking over. At least my mother had gotten her wish and I was now afraid of the dark as she felt I should be.

My head was resting on my knees when the door knob began to turn. I was a mix of surprised that it was so soon, grateful to be getting out of the closet early, but also scared of what awaited me the moment the door opened. Sometimes, the punishment after was almost as bad as the isolation in the dark. I was often punished for wetting myself and had to scrub the floor with a bucket of soapy water and a washcloth until she was satisfied that I had done a good enough job getting the smell out before I would be allowed to wash myself and get something to eat.

I also had to write a lot of sentences. The amount of times I would have to write ‘I am not evil’ could fill up an entire book.

I hid my eyes from the harsh light when the door swung open and couldn’t look up, even knowing that my mother would think it was disrespectful. She never hit me, but grabbing my arm and yanking me around was something she did often. I was expecting it as the hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me to my feet.

I swayed where I stood, light-headed from sitting too long and weak from hunger. She began to tug me away from the closet, and I stumbled along after her while holding my breath, not wanting to anger her any more than she already was. I did my best to hurry to keep up with her long strides since her legs were so much longer than mine. When we reached my bedroom, I was a little surprised. She still hadn’t said anything to me, and my mind was spinning, trying to make sense of what was happening.

Once we reached my bedroom, the door was already standing open. I blinked in confusion as I saw all the lit candles standing on my desk and my dresser.

“What-” I began to ask before being immediately cut off.

“Quiet,” Mother snapped and pushed me toward the bed. “Lie down and do what you’re told before I leave you to your punishment for another two days.”

My lower lip quivered as I did what she said, slowly kneeling on the edge of the mattress and crawling to the center of the bed. I sat there in confusion, looking up at her for some kind of explanation or another command that would indicate why she was sending me to my bed in what seemed to be the middle of the day.

She walked to the edge of the bed and leaned over, grasping my wrist and pulling it toward the headboard. “I said, lay down.” Her tone was angry but calm, the way she usually spoke to me, as if she were doing her best to stay composed as a lady should be at all times. I swallowed hard but did as she said while keeping my eyes on where she held my arm. As soon as I was on my back, she slipped something over my wrist and pulled.

I gasped when I realized that she had tied a rope around my wrist. I tried to tug on it as panic began to make my heart race, and I felt another hand touching me from the other side of the bed. I jerked my head in the direction to see a face I recognized but never expected to see in my home, let alone inside my bedroom.

The priest from our church smiled down at me as he pulled my arm above my head and secured it the same way my mother had my other arm. “Shh, sweet child. Everything is going to be okay. I promise.”

It didn’t feel like anything was okay. I was being restrained to my bed by the local priest. I was hungry, and I had to pee so bad I was scared I was going to wet myself at any moment. I turned my head to look back at my mother. “Please, Mother. I have to use the restroom,” I whispered, putting as much pleading into my voice as I could so she’d understand how desperate I was. If I wet the bed, I could just imagine what she would make me do as a punishment.

She glared down at me without a word and moved to my feet. At the last minute I attempted to pull them away, trying to bend my knees, but it was too late. My ankles were grasped tightly from both sides, and the ropes were firmly attached to my ankles, securing them to the bed tightly. I attempted to test the ropes, but there was very little slack and I couldn’t do much but bend my knees enough to place the heel of my foot against the mattress.

The fear began to kick in as my eyes moved around the room wildly, taking in the candles and the priest who had stepped back. He was wearing robes similar to the ones he wore at church every Sunday, but somehow, they seemed so sinister on him now. He picked up a book and opened it while doing the sign of the cross with his hand held up in front of him.

My mother stepped back toward the door and held her hands together in front of her waist the same way she always did when we were on TV standing behind my father as he spoke to the crowds about his policies and promises for the city. It was the way she had taught me to stand, too.

The priest began to speak, but it wasn’t a language I understood, though I was almost certain it was Latin. I was pretty sure that was what priests spoke when they did the prayers at church. When he picked up a small bottle and popped the lid off with his thumb, my breaths started coming faster and faster. He was terrifying me with what he was doing. The whole situation was scary. I thought about calling out for my dad, but it had been so long since he’d spent any time with me. He used to tuck me in and kiss me goodnight, but then he got too busy with his work, and I barely saw him anymore. He never smiled at me the way he used to. No, I couldn’t call for my father. He probably wasn’t even home anyway.

I turned desperate eyes on my mother, hoping she would see that I needed help, that I needed to be free. I was scared and needed the comfort of my mother. When I remembered that she’d never been the type to comfort me, was when the tears started falling. Once I started crying, I couldn’t stop. All my pain, desperation, and terror just poured out of me. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to be paid attention to. I wanted my mother to tell me I had done a good job or to brush my hair.

I was trying to ignore the way my snot had gathered in the corner of my nose and was about to slide embarrassingly down my face when a splash of water made me flinch. The priest was splashing me from the little bottle in the same motions as when he did the sign of the cross. After he was finished, he turned and set the bottle down on the dresser, and then he picked up a piece of rope. I could see enough through my tears that it was red, and I briefly wondered what it was for when he stepped to the side of the bed.

I watched as he pulled his arm back and then brought the rope down across my legs, which were exposed by my school uniform skirt. It didn’t really hurt, but the shock of being struck had me gasping out loud. His chanting got louder as he pulled his arm back and struck me again repeatedly. Over and over, he brought the short piece of rope across my legs and belly until it began to sting.

I turned my head to look at my mother. “Please!” I begged. “Please make him stop. Why are you doing this? What did I do?”

“You have the devil in you,” she hissed as her fingers tightened on each other until her knuckles turned white. “You need to be cleansed.”

“Don’t speak to the girl.” The priest admonished her in a severe tone. “The demon will try to trick you. You must not engage.”

“I’m not a demon!” I cried out at the rope sliced across my upper thigh in a spot that it had already struck several times, making me hiss in pain. “Please! I’m not a demon, I swear!”

My whole body was shaking uncontrollably as the fear grew. I heard my mother gasp and turned to look at her as she stared at me with her eyes wide with horror. I had no idea why she was looking at me that way, but it made my fear unbearable. Suddenly, she threw her hand up to brace herself against the wall. It wasn’t until I heard the priest grunt that I looked at him and saw a piece of the ceiling fall and hit his shoulder.

The whole room was shaking. I looked up at the ceiling to see there were small cracks across it leading from the center of the room over my bed and spreading outward. The cracks grew larger as I stared, transfixed. I watched as small bits of plaster fell, and dust rained down, covering the bed and my body.

“Be gone, demon!” The priest bellowed at me when I turned to look at him, but it was my mother’s scream of pain that had my heart freezing in my chest. When I turned to look at her, she had her hand on her forehead, and there was a small stream of dark red blood dripping from between her fingers. The sight had me squeezing my eyes shut and begging everything to stop.

The room stopped shaking abruptly just as my bedroom door flew open.

“What the hell is going on in here?” my father bellowed as he glared around the room. His gaze landed on my mother as she sniffled before squaring her shoulders back.

“She needs help.”

He sighed as he looked over at me, trembling, covered in welts from the rope and dust from the ceiling. I was also wet from my bladder, losing control some time since it had all started. I couldn’t even remember when I had peed, but I could feel it as it soaked through my clothes and bedding.

“Of course she does, Vanessa. But in our home? It’s going to take some quick talking to explain away these kinds of repairs.”

At his words, the last bit of hope I had in me faded. I wasn’t going to get my old dad back. I was truly alone now.