Her predicament had become completely . . . There was no word to describe how bad her situation was. Death, maybe. She was actually dying. Or had died and was now in hell. The hell the priests of her childhood had warned her about. She couldn’t think straight. It was dark; she only had to open her eyes to remember that. Except for a distant hiss that sounded like it might be rain, the house was quiet. But Betty and Stewart were out there. She’d heard them thundering around after they broke free of the meat locker. After a while she could hear them creeping around, smell them when they passed. They stopped in front of the closet once but didn’t enter. She didn’t know why. None of it could be real, but she was having a hard time convincing herself of that. The house seemed alive, looking for her. Eccentrics or inbreds or devils, it didn’t matter; they were all the same to her. She thought they might be in the dining room, sliding around, waiting for her to make a sound. She mumbled a silent prayer.
