Prologue
Danny Ivy held on to his aluminum bat tightly. His 'father', Bert, would be home any minute now. The abusive drunk of a foster father would be no match for him, he was sure. It was time to put an end to this man's existence once and for all just as he had done to Mr. Barker, and the mailman, and that stupid boy from down the street.
The door burst open.
"Outta my way, kid." Boomed Bert McFarley, as he made a beeline for the stairs. Danny looked up into his face. He was a large man with greasy ginger hair and an awful mustache. It was clear to Danny that Bert was very, very drunk.
"I said outta the way, you deaf little shit!" he slurred. Danny moved aside and stared at him intently as walked up the stairs. It had been three weeks with this man, and that was three weeks too many. As he followed him up the stairs, Danny could feel the anticipation growing in his gut. When he reached the top of the stairs, Bert turned to close his bedroom door, but Danny held out his hand to stop it.
"The fuck do you think you are doing?"
"Sit down on the bed." Said Danny calmly.
"And just what makes you think I'll do that?"
"This." He said. He pulled out his pocketknife from the pocket of the oversized sweatshirt and stabbed it into Bert's gut, but not hard enough to kill him, not yet anyway. Danny exhaled deeply. Bert fell backward, missing the bed, and landing with a thump on to the floor. Blood gushed from his stomach, his face a mixture of pain and utter shock…but mostly, pain.
"Uh-nuh." Said Bert trying to make words come out of his mouth. He also made a couple of feeble moaning noises. Danny showed no emotion and simply stabbed him again in the ear.
"Who's the deaf little shit now?" he whispered coldly.
He bent down to pick up his bat. He slammed it down hard on the bleeding man's head. Then again, and again, and progressively he began hitting harder, every time making a sick, crunching sound with each brutal hit. He exhaled deeply again. He put the bat down and checked Bert's pulse. It was there, but just barely. He lifted his foot and slammed it down on the man's head. The special cleats he had sharpened himself with a razor blade, left terrible holes in the flesh of his face. He did one last thing before the cops showed up. When he was done, he called the police. When they showed up he told them a man had broken into the house and killed his 'Daddy'. They didn't take him in for questioning or even consider him to be a suspect because who, after all, would expect an angle-faced, blonde haired, 11 year old boy to kill his own foster father.