There was no doubt in my mind of that simple and terrifying fact. And the situation I was facing right now only made me more positive. I dropped my pen and ducked out of the way as another book whizzed by my head, then jumped onto my bed and thrust my back against the wall, hugging my legs against myself. And for what felt like the thousandth time—that day—I prayed for it to stop. Around me, books, papers, pillows, and my laptop were swirling through the room in a supernatural whirlwind. Which meant that my normally carefully organized pink and white room was now covered by the chaos of my other belongings. A place of calm and peace, turned to hell. Drawers were opening and closing, spitting out their contents and adding to the mess that flew around the place. They’d been doing it on and off all day. How everything was moving, I didn’t know … but this wasn’t the first time. Not by a long shot. I’d endured months of this torture. If only the flying objects were my sole problem.
