PROLOGUE
ZAK
Twenty-five years ago.
Scared.
Confused.
My head is fuzzy.
I’m not sure what happened but I know something’s not right.
It’s dark, inside and out.
My eye hurts, my head hurts, hurts really bad and it feels so fuzzy, cloudy, like I can’t really think anymore.
I need to get Mama.
But when I go to move and try to push up on my hands and knees, pain races up my arm, my leg, and my head pounds so hard I get dizzy and fall back to the floor.
I’m on the floor.
Why am I on the floor?
Did I trip over my truck?
Oh no.
If I left my truck out, then my dad will be so mad. He’ll take his belt to me for sure if I left a mess, then he’ll throw my truck away and maybe even put me in the crawl space again.
I have to get up.
I have to get up and clean my room then I need to find Mama and tell her I don’t feel good, tell her I’m hurt. I need to find my mama.
With a deep breath, I use my right arm and push myself up into a seated position, but everything hurts so bad and the room is so blurry when I try to look around.
I blink several times, blink and rub my eyes, and when I pull my hand away there’s something sticky and warm on my fingers.
Blood.
My hand is covered in blood.
And as soon as that realization sinks in, I hear a sound that makes my hair stand on end.
“No! Randy, stop!”
Mama.
Mama is screaming and crying, begging my dad to stop whatever he’s doing.
I have to get up, I have to help Mama. I have to protect her from my dad.
Slowly, I stagger to my feet, lean against the wall and find that I’m not in my bedroom. No, I’m in the living room and I didn’t fall.
I remember now.
I was hit, over and over again until I collapsed to the floor.
