The sound of a car—starting up.

“Grandpa and Grandma’s car! It’s back! It’s fixed!” I shouted.

We followed the sound of the engine. It was coming from the front of the house.

We ran to the front door and peered out the window.

There they were!

“Huh?” I cried out in shock.

My grandparents were backing down the driveway.

They were driving away!

“No—wait! Wait!” I screamed, turning the lock.

“They can’t hear you!” Clark shouted. “Open the door! Open it!”

I yanked on the door. I pulled it as hard as I could. I turned the lock again.

“Hurry!” Clark shrieked. “They’re leaving us here!”

I tugged and tugged. And turned the knob frantically.

Then I realized the horrible truth.

“It’s bolted from the outside!” I told Clark. “They’ve locked us in!”

“How could they do this to us?” I wailed. “How could they leave us here? Why did they lock us in?”

The ceiling shook above our heads. Shook hard. Hard enough to send the pictures on the living-room wall crashing to the floor.

“What was that?” Clark’s eyebrows shot up.

“The monster! He’s coming after us!” I croaked. “We have to get out of here! We have to find help!”

Clark and I ran back to the kitchen. To the kitchen door.

I twisted the doorknob. Pulled as hard as I could. But this door was also jammed shut—barred from the outside.

We ran through the house.

We checked all the side doors.

All stuck. All of them—bolted shut from the other side.

The monster’s footsteps rumbled above us.

How could Grandma and Grandpa do this to us? How could they? How could they? The question screamed in my head as I charged into the library. To the window.

The only window on the entire first floor.

Our only escape now.

I struggled to shove the window up.

It wouldn’t budge.

I pounded on the wooden sash with my fists.

“Look!” Clark choked. He pointed to the grimy pane. “Look!”

Two rusty nails. Driven into the wooden sash. Nailing the window shut—from the outside.

Nailing us in.

How could they do this to us? How could they? I chanted silently. How could they?

“We have to break the glass!” I turned to Clark. “It’s the only way out!”

“Okay!” Clark cried. He leaned forward and began beating his fists against the pane.

“Are you nuts?” I screamed at him. “Find something stronger to—”

But the rest of my sentence was lost—lost in a deafening crash from above. Followed by the thundering clatter of piano keys.

“Wh-what’s he doing?” Clark stammered.

“There’s an old piano up there. It sounds as if he’s throwing it across the room!”

The floors, the walls, the library ceiling—everything quaked—as the monster hurled the piano across the third-floor room. Over and over again.

A porcelain vase, a crystal dish, little glass animals flew from a nearby table and shattered at our feet.

I threw my hands over my head as the library books spilled from their shelves.

Clark and I huddled together. On the floor. Waiting for the avalanche of books to end.

Waiting for the monster to stop.

We huddled there until the house grew silent.

A final book tumbled from a shelf. It landed on a small table next to me.

“Hand me that!” I ordered Clark, pointing to a heavy brass candlestick next to the book. “Stand back.”