Sunlight poked through the slats in the blinds and across Jillian’s face, waking her. She frowned and turned her head away from the intrusion. Her arm was stretched out, dangling off the bed.

She felt the electrifying jolt of adrenalin jump in her veins. Her breath quickened, and she strained against the urge to tug her appendage under the cover. Heart thumping in her ears, she pretended to sleep.

“Morning.” Though the voice, soothing, there was menace contained in the very word. He was leaning on the door frame watching her with obscene curiosity.

“Yes, it is.” Jillian wrapped the coverlet around her. She’d wet the bed, again. Just one of the downsides of living with Fear.

He watched her with the black pools of malignant intent he liked to call “eyes.” She felt she were a specimen under a microscope.

She’d tried to fend him off; wielding a plastic sword when he’d rested under her bed so long ago. She’d grown, but not changed. Now, no matter what she did, the aura of Fear emanated from her very being.