I storm into my room. Where is it. I have to find it!

On my bookshelf? No. I empty my dresser drawers on the floor. Still nothing.

I can feel the panic starting to grip me. Hold on, I tell myself. You’ll find it. They’ll be safe.

I flip the mattress off of my bed. Just a couple of old Playboys. I overturn the box spring. Nothing! I can feel the tears welling up.

“Dammit!” I yell. “Where the hell is it?”

“Honey?” Oh, hell. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh… Yeah, mom. I’m good.” Think, think, think!

“I tried waiting up for you. I found…” She stops short in the doorway. “What is going on?”

“Mom, I can’t talk right now.” I struggle to keep the fear out of my voice. “I’ve lost something, and I need to find it.”

“I know what you’re looking for.” My heart stops. “I found that book in your laundry pile, and I threw that Satanic crap in the garbage, where it belongs!”

I drop to my knees. “You… Oh, mom, no!” My copy of the Necronomicon. Gone. I feel the ground tremble. It’s too late. I can’t save them.