Chapter 1

            Kevin McDonald’s morning began with a trip to the cemetery.

            His afternoon ended with a beating in the schoolyard.

            Night came, and things got a whole lot worse.

            10:12. Forty-five minutes to go.

            Kevin turned his attention from the clock on the nightstand to the wrapped package balanced on his stomach. The red bow was frayed, the yellow paper had lost its luster, and a section was ripped where his parents had removed the original name tag. It had the shape of a hardback book – his brother had liked reading – but it didn’t weigh enough.

            The hallway light flipped on. Kevin tucked the gift beneath his pillow as the sound of footsteps echoed up the stairwell.

            His father stopped outside the doorway, tapped the thermostat, and shook his head.  

“Everything okay?” Kevin asked.

“Darn thing says it’s seventy-five, but it feels colder than that.” He poked his head into the room. “You didn’t leave any windows open?”

“No.”

He entered the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you like it?” 

Kevin rolled onto his side and wrapped his arm around the present concealed beneath the pillow. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Not exactly how you imagined the beginning of your teenage years, huh?” He rested a callused hand on Kevin’s back. Kevin winced, but didn’t shy away. He couldn’t let his parents know about the bruises. They had enough to worry about, particularly today.

“Is mom okay?”

“Yep. Sorry about that.”

Kevin kept his eyes locked on the wall next to his bed. “I understand.”

They’d been sitting around the table, a store-bought cake – still nestled in its cardboard box – laid out near Kevin, its thirteen trick candles sputtering through the silence. Then his father erupted into the birthday song, a forced grin on his face. Kevin’s mother joined in, but halfway through, she broke down weeping and fled the kitchen.

“It’ll be better tomorrow, Kevin.”

“I know.”

“Michael would be so proud of you.”

“I guess.”

His father stood. “He would. Lights out now. Tomorrow’s a new day.” He stopped in the doorway. “We’re proud of you, too, Kevin. Very proud. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

He paused at the thermostat again before heading to his bedroom at the end of the hallway. A second later, the heater thrummed to life.

“Did you set the alarm?” his mother asked.

“Yes, dear. There’s nothing…” his voice trailed away as he shut the door.

Despite the warm air jetting from the floor vents, the chill in the room worsened. Kevin threw back his comforter, hopped from his bed onto the ice-cold wooden floor, and tiptoed to his dresser. After grabbing a sweatshirt and a pair of socks, he turned to race back to bed, and froze when heard a noise from the attic.

CREEEEEEEAAAK.

“Just the house whispering you goodnight.” That’s what his mother used to tell them when she read him and Michael bedtime stories.

CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAK.

“Or rats in the attic,” he said. His father made that joke several years ago and had paid the penalty – the next day they’d gone to the animal shelter and picked out a kitten. Kevin wished Mr. Mestopheles was with him now, but the plump tabby was probably curled up in one of his mom’s shoeboxes.

CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAK.

Kevin leapt once, twice, and into bed – safe – even while the house continued to whisper. He pulled on his socks and threw on his sweatshirt. As he tugged the comforter over himself, he noticed the door to his closet was slightly ajar.

He swallowed, his mind racing as he tried to remember if he’d closed it before getting ready for bed. Could he have forgotten? He shook his head. Not tonight. Of all nights, he’d never forget tonight. Maybe Mr. Mestopheles had opened it - he liked stretching out and flicking levers with his paws.

No matter the case, the door had to be closed.

Hugging himself, he rose once more, sprinted across the room, and reached for the handle. Something rattled behind the door. “Mr. Mestopheles?” Kevin whispered, hesitating.

Shutting his ears to the attic’s creaking, Kevin took a deep breath and flung the door open. A gust of wintry air blasted him backward. He fumbled for the handle, caught hold of it, and slammed the door shut.

“Is everything okay in there?” his father asked from the other room.

Kevin dashed back to bed and ducked beneath the comforter. “Yeah, everything’s okay, Dad. Sorry. Just thought Mr. Mestopheles was stuck in the closet.”

“Nope, he’s in here lying on your mother’s pillow. Goodnight, son.”

It was quiet again. The attic’s loud whispers had ceased. Sitting up and peeking at the closet over the rim of his blankets, Kevin repeatedly shut and opened his eyes. The door remained closed each time. After one last look, he lay down and glanced at the clock. 10:33. “Twenty-four minutes,” he murmured, crossing his fingers.

Kevin pulled the present from underneath the pillow. “Maybe it’s you whispering me goodnight. Are you watching me?”

            There was no response.

            He fidgeted with the gift until the clock read 10:57. The light filtering through the crack beneath his parents’ door had disappeared minutes earlier and a dark silence filled the house.

            Kevin wiped his eyes. “Where did you go?”

10:57. That’s what the clock read when he’d heard his brother’s scream. That was exactly three years ago. They’d spent the afternoon sharing birthday cake and unwrapping presents. Michael had saved the one with the red bow because he liked waiting ‘til morning to unwrap his gift from Dad.

But when Kevin had raced into his brother’s room next door, the bed was empty except for that red-bowed, yellow package. While Kevin had sat on his brother’s bed guarding the present he’d wanted so badly for himself, his parents scoured the house for their eldest son.

            Like the police, they’d found nothing.

            The windows had been shut, the doors had been locked. There’d been no signs of forced entry. Kevin had tried to tell them about the closet, but nobody listened. His brother never left his closet door open. Never.

            However, that night, the night of Michael’s thirteenth birthday, the closet door had been wide open. And like tonight, the air was so cold Kevin could see his breath crystallizing in front of him.

            Kevin wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and forget about cemeteries, birthdays, and closets. But before he could do that, he needed to check one last thing. He wrapped the comforter around him like a cloak of armor, turned on his lamp, and crawled to the edge of the bed. Leaning over until his head nearly touched the ground, he lifted the basketball-patterned bed skirt an inch and looked in.

            There was something in the back, something misshapen and grotesque lurking in the shadows beneath his bed! Cold drops of sweat beaded Kevin’s forehead, but he couldn’t back down. He pulled the skirt a bit higher, his heart thundering in his chest as pale light crept across the floor. Would the beast leap at him when exposed? In a moment of sheer bravery – or stupidity – he jerked the skirt up.

            And then laughed. The monster beneath his bed was nothing more than his baseball bag and a pair of stuffed animals he’d discarded years ago.

            He yawned and lay back down. Rolling onto his side, he said a quiet prayer for himself, for his parents, and for his brother.

            11:11. Kiss the clock and make a wish. Kevin smiled, tucked the present beneath his pillow, and closed his eyes.

            By 11:23 he was asleep.

A minute later, his lamp flickered off.

A minute after that, the house began whispering again.

            At 11:27 the closet door opened.