The scratched oak of her closet doors rattled and shook as Madison struggled to keep them shut. And yet they still flew open with a bone-chilling shriek – but nothing was in them.

She cursed at herself and stood up. He was just toying with her now.

Oh, really, Madison?

She jumped, and beat her hands against the wall.

The voice rumbled deeper than a thousand levels of hell; she assumed it was chuckling. Odd how applicant your metaphor is, it boomed.

“Shut uuuup!” she screamed, and plugged her ears with her fists.

One problem with that, he said – inside her head. Oh, and, by the way: the praying thing was cute. Funny how it didn’t work though.

Outside, the storm clouds gathered themselves into a rough shape. Two spheres of lightning raged in the center.

With pain and fury, Madison hurled the crucifix on her wall into the cloud.

The voice shrieked. Naughty, naughty, Madison. You play dirty…or so I would define it, I assume…

“Go to hell!” she screamed.

Already there, sweet-pea.