The child dreads the bogeyman, the figment of fevered imaginings. The creature lurking in dark corners, croutched, like a cat ready to pounce. Adults frighten children half to death with ghosts, ghouls and other things which go bump at the dead of night. Kids lie in the dark, needing the toilet but not daring to leave the relative safety of their beds, for ghastly demons lie in wait for the unwary child. But the abused child, he who is to terrified to speak knows that there are no goblins waiting to torment him for he lives in hell and endures the torment of a flesh and blood devil. Oh to be the child frightend of ghosts and ghouls. How lucky in comparison is he?