my mama said with tears in her eyes. I had awoken not a moment sooner with her by my side. She grabbed my hand, kissed my forehead. Her heart was beating so quickly I could almost hear it. The ceiling above my head began to spin. “How are you feeling?” Mama asked, patting my hand. She stood next to my bed. “Sick,” I replied honestly. “Tired. What happened?” Sitting up quickly did nothing to help the unease in my stomach. My head was full of cotton, my mouth dry and raw. “You were sick,” Mama said. “Having wild, violent nightmares, thrashing about. You wouldn’t wake up. We had the doctor come look at you, but he said that there was nothing physically wrong.” “How many days?” “Just over two.” “How’s Silvi?” She paused for a second. “She’s really upset. Whatever she saw in that house…. It must’ve been terrifying.” “It was.” I scrubbed my hands over my face. “I think it was Monroe’s aunt, Germaine. Her spirit. It must still be haunting the swamp.”
