“It’s okay,” Cora said halfheartedly. “The stitches on my stomach feel weird sitting like this, but the nurse said it was good for me. They made me go for a walk earlier.”

“How’d that go?” I asked.

“Tiring,” Cora said, smoothing the edges of the bandage that covered her eye. “And people keep looking at me funny. My face looks so bad.”

“Usually the first few days after surgeries like this are the worst,” I explained. “Once the swelling goes down and the bruising fades it will be better.”

“That’s what the other doctor told me, too,” Cora said. She shivered. “It’s cold in here.”

I stood and went to the cupboard where I knew the extra blankets were stored and pulled one down.

“The police came by again yesterday,” Cora said as I tucked the blanket around her shoulders. A vaguely sweet, foul odor emanated from Cora. “I think the policeman was mad at me.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked, thinking about what John Dover said about Cora being hypersensitive about what people say to her and taking things the wrong way.

“Because I can’t remember anything. He kept asking me what I saw and who I saw and what happened and I couldn’t tell him,” Cora said with annoyance.

“I’m sure he wasn’t mad at you,” I said. “Maybe just frustrated because he can’t find the person who did this awful thing.”

“No, he was definitely mad,” Cora insisted. “I could tell. He was practically yelling at me and then I started crying and my mom made him leave.” I could see that Cora was getting worked up again but she kept talking. “Violet’s been saying that Joseph Wither was the one who attacked me.”

Violet had told me the same thing and I wanted to continue the conversation with Cora that we had the other day, about ghosts and conversations with Joseph Wither, but didn’t want to force the topic. I was happy Cora brought it up.

“Why do you think Violet is saying this?” I asked.

Cora shrugged and winced in pain at the sudden movement. “I guess because she thinks that Joseph Wither is real,” she said.

I knew I had to be careful as to how I responded here. I needed to be noncommittal, nonjudgmental, so as to not interject any personal perspectives. “You mentioned the other day when you gave me the picture of Skittles that Joseph Wither was contacting you online…” I let the sentence hang, hoping that Cora would fill in the blanks. She didn’t.

“Why do you think Violet thinks he’s real?” I asked instead.

Cora sat in silence for a long time, her forehead creased as if trying to work out something in her mind. “What do you think?” I asked. “Do you believe that Joseph Wither is real?”