Eight-year-old Abigail was used to cold, uncaring doctors, domineering nurses, the unceasing round of pain and suffering. But from the day she was admitted to Valley Memorial's newly opened children's ward, she felt a sense of terror...
At night the walls seemed to ooze with something dark and glistening. The painted clowns grinned evilly, knowingly. Even the faint sound of windchimes tinkling in the breeze sent strangely expectant chills down her spine.
The force of darkness, of some long-forgotten violence, was seeping into her soul. But instead of fearing it, she fed upon it. And as her eyes took on the glow of those possessed, and her frail body strengthened with the powers of evil, little Abigail--so sweet, so pure, so innocent--was ready to wreak a bloody revenge in the sterile corridors of The Children's Ward.
