Jack bolted to the bedroom window and peered out. It was a long way down. They heard the monster drawing closer as it climbed the stairs with heavy boots.

Lyla scanned the room for something she could use for defense. But what good would a weapon be against an attacker who was already dead?

The doorknob twisted.

She wrapped her arms around Jack and clamped her eyes shut, feeling the burning rage that propelled Keenan. The doorknob rattled more violently. And then...

"Lyla?" came her dad's voice from downstairs.

The doorknob went still.

"Lyla?" Ryan called again.

She needed to warn her father. She threw open the door to find him at the bottom of the stairs.

"Dad!"

Keenan had disappeared. There was no pile of leaves on the entryway floor, no wet footprints on the stairs, no nest of serpents.

"Whose car is that parked out front?"

When Jack stepped out of the bedroom behind her, Ryan's brow furrowed.

They stood at the top of the stairs, chests heaving, trying to process the ghoulish, supernatural events.

"Dad...," She fought to regain her composure. "This is Jack." She smiled weakly.

Jack descended the stairs. Ryan shook his hand reluctantly while giving his daughter a cutting glare.

"He drove me home from Darcy's party." She tried to soften the awkward moment.

"Did he?" Ryan replied. He noticed Jack's split lip and his bruised cheekbone. "What happened to you?"

"It's nothing. Nice to meet you, Mr. Perry." Jack turned toward Lyla. "G'night," he said and sped out the door.

She caught the full measure of her father's angry eyes.

"We'll talk about this later," he huffed and stomped into the kitchen. There was no point in speaking with her father now. She felt his anger and disappointment.

Through everything that had recently happened, Ryan was the last person that she wanted to hurt. He'd lost the love of his life to a terrible disease. Lyla was all that remained of her mom. She could often see it in her dad's eyes when he looked at her and she couldn't bear to see those eyes filled with the pain that she had inflicted. She went to her room.

She held her pillow tightly in her arms and comforted herself with Jack's scent. A short time ago she lay half-naked beneath him. She drew her tongue across her lips, puffy from dozens of deep kisses while their hands explored each other's bodies. She basked in the blissful memory of relinquishing control, the exhilaration of setting herself free.

With these vivid memories, she could temporarily block the horrible and grotesque images from her mind. If for only a few moments, she could escape the unexplainable events she and Jack had just experienced and she knew it wasn't over. She could hear Keenan's cackling voice in her head. "You're mine. Always will be. I own you, girl."

Her dad startled her when he tapped on her door and pushed it open.

"You know the rules. There are to be no boys in this house when I'm not here."

She nodded, embarrassed.

"I don't even know that kid. Who is he?" Ryan crossed his arms.

"I know him from school."

"You've had a rough couple of weeks. I get that but don't make any more problems for yourself. You understand me?"

"I understand."

"I thought you knew better."

Lyla had no answer. She lowered her head.

Her dad's tone softened. "You know I'm here for you. You can always come to me no matter what kind of mess you got yourself into."

"I know."

He let that thought hang there for a moment.

"So, is there anything you want to talk about?"

She shook her head "no."

"No boys in this house when I'm not here. Period," he repeated. "Are we clear on that?"

"We're clear."

"Okay. Get some sleep." Ryan started out the door.

"Dad?" Lyla stopped him. "I'm sorry." He had no words. Ryan turned his back and exited.