She managed to sit up, reaching out to feel her way around her black tomb. Her hand found a doorknob. She gave it a sharp turn, the meager light in the next room enough to temporarily blind her.

Once her eyes adjusted, she realized she was back in the cottage, in the bedroom. Kate crawled out of the closet, fearing she hadn’t the strength to stand.

“Andrew?” she whispered.

Buttons cowered beside her.

A stabbing pain in her chest made her go rigid as a steel girder.

There followed a mad howling, and something crashed against the wall, knocking the painting of two men out for a day of fishing onto the floor.

That wasn’t Andrew.

Kate put her arm around Buttons’ pliant neck. “It’s okay, But-But. It’s okay. Mommy’s here.”

That seemed to calm him down.

The noise in the next room also ceased.

Where was Andrew? Surely the beast hadn’t brought her back here and tucked her in a closet.

Oh God, did it follow us here and kill him?

The sudden blast of guilt made her swoon.

“No. Please, not Andrew.”

She wept, her body almost too broken, too dehydrated for tears. What leaked from her eyes burned like acid.

Her legs trembling, she tried to open the bedroom door. When it didn’t budge, she looked down and saw it had been locked. She pushed the button, but the door still wouldn’t open. The noise of her trying to get out had caught the creature’s attention. She heard it move around the living room and the sick, wet sucking of its lungs.

She realized that even if it hadn’t already killed Andrew, it eventually would.

Andrew, if he was alive, was going to do everything he could to get her out of here and find a hospital.

The thing in the next room had been born not just from her anger and frustration, but also her desire to stay here forever. Anyone who wanted to remove her was bad and needed to be eliminated.

She closed her eyes, trying to delve once again into its mind. The unyielding pain wouldn’t let her do it.

No matter. She couldn’t let it live on.

Maybe it was a good thing it had found her.

She wanted it close so she could see.

With Buttons brushing against her leg, she struggled to open the dresser drawer with one hand. After some jiggling, it finally gave way.

Pushing aside her socks, she found what she needed.

Her box of fentanyl patches.

Her prescription called for the highest dose they had. She’d hoped to one day step down to a lower dosage and move to a newer, safer medication. The patches had always scared the hell out of her.

She pounded on the wall.

“I’m in here! I’m in…”

Her chest felt as if it had been kicked by a mule. But still her heart marched on.