Her ear was itchy. She scratched it. When she pulled her finger away, a giant, green walking stick bug clung to her. It had the face of a man – a small, distorted, diseased man, a circus freak, a burn victim, an abomination. The walking stick leered at her and said, “I live inside your ear, you know.” Kate writhed in horror as the chimeric bug made its slow entrance back to its warm home (bad feels).

Kate forced herself to wake up. She was too weak, too tired to call for Andrew, much less get off the bed. The endless flip-flopping had sapped her strength.

Her family, the ones she held most dear, were in the kitchen. That, at least, hadn’t been a dream.

She might not be able to fully comprehend what they were saying, but she knew they were enjoying themselves. The cottage was filled with their laughter and contentment. Part of her was glad just to be able to bask in it, even from her prone position on the bed, one part removed.

Happy to be away from the bad feels, she was still upset that she and Andrew could never have this easy alliance with bliss. Even when they had their fun, it was always knowing that bad times were at their backs, closer than even their own shadows.

She should be with Nikki in the kitchen drinking wine, dancing with Andrew when ‘Careless Whisper’ played on the radio. She’d danced with Jerry Deevey to that song at a school dance.

For now, she’d have to dance alone in the uneasy state between dreams and wakefulness, always present but not quite there. Never existing wholly anywhere.

Chapter Twenty-Three

A nightmare scared Kate awake. The second her eyes opened, the terrifying images faded, shattering like safety glass under a sledgehammer. Her heart was racing, causing pain to ripple out from the center of her chest. She felt the sweat at the back of her neck, her legs tangled in the sheet as if she’d been twisting and turning to get away from something…or someone. Her back ached, heat emanating from between her shoulder blades.

The meds and fevers were wreaking havoc with her dreams. She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t had at least one nightmare. Images so strange they were impossible to fully convey to Andrew had become commonplace.

She recalled watching a bizarre beast made of mouths, the lips shredded from too many sharp teeth. It was crouched over something, all of the mouths opening and closing with horrid clacking and slurping wetness. Kate kept moving closer and closer against her will. She wanted nothing to do with this creature, but every time she stopped, her feet were dragged along the harsh pavement, like a metal filing drawn toward the magnetized monster.