“I think it’s coming from the door on the left,” I tell Stevie. She nods her head, her grip nearly bruising my wrist.

“This is so fucked,” Stevie says.

“Perspicuss,” I whisper. It’s a defensive spell. Anyone who is looking at us will see us, but not clearly. It will confuse them and at least give us a chance to escape if need be. I’m prepared to do what I need to if it comes down to it.

“Good idea,” Stevie whispers. The thudding noise doesn’t stop. It only gets louder and louder. Stevie and I walk toward the door where the sound is coming from.

I don’t want to tip off whoever or whatever is in that room to our presence. My hand slowly grips the brass door handle. As slowly as I can manage, I twist the knob and I crack the door. The noise never stops, still on pace with before, so I open it even further. Stevie’s grip is tight on my upper arm as we both look into the room.

What I find was not what I was suspecting at all. It’s my mother looking haggard and exhausted. Her hair hasn’t been brushed, and she’s wearing a nightgown. Her feet are black and disgusting, like she’s been running around outside for days. She bangs her head violently against the wall of the bedroom. I can see her lips moving, but I can’t hear anything she is saying.

“Josie?” I say. She looks over, confused, obviously not being able to see anything. She turns her head back to the wall and continues to hit her head. A trail of blood beads from her hairline, down her cheekbones and jaw until it drips onto the floor.

“Perspicuss finis,” I whisper. Stevie’s hand is nearly cutting off the circulation to my arm. “Josie?” I ask, calling my mother’s name again.

She turns and looks at me and Stevie. Whoever is looking at me, isn’t fully my mother. While I can sense the presence of her magic, it’s been significantly weakened.

“Make it stop,” she says, looking at me. There’s a crazed glimmer in her eye.

“Make what stop?”

“The pain. She took it all. I was good for a while. She said I was good. But I wasn’t good enough. Not strong enough.” She’s pacing, looking at the wall again. There’s a smear of her blood against the off-white paint.

“Who said that?”

“Ugh! Don’t be fucking stupid!” she screams before she paces again. Her eyes dart back to the wall and she hits her head again.

“What the fuck do we do?” Stevie asks.

“She needs you, not me,” my mother mumbles. She hits her head really hard then on the wall. The blood gushing from her head more steadily now. “We’ll just have to call her.”