Prologue

1982- Maryland

She could hear them scream downstairs again. The noise was deafening to six-year-old Marie Brunston's ears. She buried her head in the pillow; a fruitless gesture of defiance against a devil that she could not conquer. The voices of her parents grew louder, and louder. Tears prickled behind Marie's eyes. She hated it when her mommy cried. Marie could hear something crash loudly downstairs. Marie began to hum. Her small room with the thin walls barely muffled the noise. She stared at the crack under the door, where the light spilled into her dark room. If she could just forget the noise, it would look so peaceful outside her room. Like Heaven. The noise outside her room only escalated. Marie kept humming quietly, the pillow pressed over her ear, keeping the noise in her head. She concentrated on the light, and the song, until she had no room to think about the words that she could still hear. She wished, fiercely, for the screaming to stop. More crashes sounded, but Marie now longer heard them. Finally, she fell asleep.

Marie woke up later to see the light still streaming under her door. It was still night, but at least the screaming had stopped. In fact, the house seemed almost peaceful. Marie slowly sat up, then put her feet on the cold linoleum of her floor. She could feel the particles of dirt under her feet, and every tick of the clock in the room outside. It was as if her senses were heightened. Marie slowly padded, toward the door, and pushed on it. She walked into the living room, and noticed the many over-turned items. Finally Marie's eyes rested on the floor, and she was still. She took a quick breath. "Mommy?" came the small inquiry. "Mommy?" Marie looked at her mother. And began to scream.