Prologue

His room smelled like dog again.

Ms. Fraser wouldn’t like that. For the past few weeks, he had been trying to tell her that he wasn’t doing anything to stink up the room. Of course, like everyone else, she would not believe him. He could hear what the middle-aged orderly would say:

“Beau Watson, you’re the only one in here. It’s okay to have accidents sometimes. Especially at your age.”

He was thirteen years old, not three.

Unfortunately, it was useless. No one had ever taken him seriously and no one ever would. They didn’t believe him about the noises. They didn’t believe him about the smell. The fur. The growling. Glowing eyes. Fire.

Beau scratched at his curly auburn hair, his teal eyes, for the millionth time since he arrived at Fountain Vale Hospital, searched his compact room for… well, anything. Anything that could prove his “delusions” – what they called the ramblings of a paranoid schizophrenic young boy.

“I’m not crazy,” he whispered to himself. The exact words he spoke in court when they overlooked his testimony.

“I’m not mental, your honor. I didn’t force a newborn puppy to chomp on the wirings of a microwave and cause an electric fire and kill a few people. No, it was a fire-breathing dog that broke into my room and tried to eat me.”

He never said all that, but whatever.

The townspeople of Sheffield got what they wanted in the end. The crazy, psycho pyromaniac child locked up in a mental hospital. Away from their precious, scared little kids.

Beau Watson scoffed as he climbed out of his bed. They weren’t so innocent when they were beating on me, were they?

But they’ll never know. Justice had been served.

Beau carried himself to his personal bathroom. It was actually quite nice living alone even despite it being a mental hospital. It took ten months, but the place had definitely grown on him. He had a comfortable bed, a desk where he could draw, someone to talk to when he was down – even if it was his psychologist. Looking in the mirror, he saw improvements.

Where gaunt cheeks were before were now plump and pink. There were no bags under his eyes due to constant nightmares. He was standing at his full 4’9 height, with no evidence of an ass-kicking from bullies beforehand.

Beau was Beau again. Not exactly there, but almost. Almost.

He smiled. And the universe hated it.

BANG!

Beau flinched but didn’t move from his spot in the bathroom. It always happened. It’s been happening for the last several weeks. With it came that horrible-

BANG! BANG!

It wasn’t the first time this occurred, but the ice-cold fear trickled down his spine every time. After some banging, it’ll end. And Beau would be back to sleep in no time-

SKREEE-

Beau clamped his hands on his ears so hard, he went light-headed for a moment. It was like nails on a chalkboard, but it was a part of the process. Come in ten minutes later, this won’t transpire until a couple of days later.

And a couple of days after that.

And a couple after that.

And after that…

Why did crap like this happen to him in the middle of the night? And why couldn’t anybody else hear it?

Suddenly, it was silent, the piercing and thunderous noises ceasing all at once. It was over. Shorter than the last time, but it was over. Beau slowly and shakily made his way out of the bathroom, his footfalls soundless and his ears strained for any odder noises.

Like a shot of lightning, the window exploded inward, shards of glass showering the floor, bed, and desk. Beau was lucky he was so far from that side of the room, but he leaped back and yelped anyway. Before he could sprint out of the room, a black, massive blur flew inside, its bounces off the floor and wall creating cracks and sending off white dust throughout the small space.

Beau was speechless. This was off-script. It was unbelievable. Terrified.

And he had never hated being right more than now.

Beau’s legs suddenly stopped working, dropping himself on his ass to watch his death. The smell, that familiar dog odor was much more potent – hot, putrid, and rank of malice – mixing in with the fearful sweat and piss running down the boy’s leg.

The dark mass began to uncurl itself, long, bulky limbs covered in near-black, bristling fur bursting out and knocking over color pencils, crayons, and his drawings. Its talons were carved knives, sharpened to eviscerate with just a single strike. Beau saw bared teeth next. Yellow, saliva-coated, shark-like teeth that could disintegrate a school of fish with just a few bites. What came out of that awful maw was a growl he instantly recognized.

It was this.

This was what had been haunting him for the past four years.

And as the monster’s eyes opened up, unveiling a pair of radiant crimson orbs, to stare straight into Beau’s very soul, the frozen boy could think one thing:

This was no dog.