My father nods, though his eyes still search mine. On the shelf by the bed there’s a photo of my mother sitting on a grassy campus lawn. She’s smiling, and her teeth are a brilliant white.

“When did she…? How did it start for her? When did you know…something was wrong?” I ask.

My father gets this far away look in his eyes as he tries to remember. “She was getting these dizzy spells. Headaches. Said she was…seeing people. People that weren’t there. Sometimes she’d get these nose bleeds…”

I must look alarmed, because my father squeezes my arm. “That ain’t going to happen to you, though. We’re going to figure this out.”

Nodding, I look back to the photo. “Mind if I have this?” I ask.

Jackson and Beth are asleep when I slink through the front door. The wind groans against the shuttered windows. In my room, I set the photo down on my desk and flop onto my bed, studying my mother’s face. Curling into a ball, I try not to panic. Outside, a dog barks. I curl up tighter, trying to drown out any other noises. Images rush behind my eyes. Shadows. Strangers. They dart in the corners of my mind, even though I try to shut them out.

I’m breathing heavy. My skin itches. It’s cold, so cold. But maybe sleep will help. Maybe I won’t dream…

I snap awake. Sitting up, I breathe deeply. Did I fall asleep? There’s a tightness in my throat, like something’s caught below my windpipe. I inhale and exhale, trying to get my bearings.

A faint whimper echoes down the hall. I slip out of bed, listening. After a moment, I walk cautiously down the hallway, the silence thick around me. Every now and then I’ll hear that whimper and have to swallow the lump in my throat.

“Beth?”

Walking closer, I see the bathroom light is on. Jackson’s bedroom door is open, but when I peek in the room, Jackson and Beth are sleeping, the sheets tangled between them. If they’re here, then who’s in the bathroom?

I take a deep breath, walking towards the closed bathroom door. Slowly, I reach out a trembling hand. Easing the door open, my eyes widen. A strange woman in a ratty blue nightgown is by the sink. Her back’s to me, and she quakes violently, her shoulders shaking.

“It’s too much…too much,” she says, the blood pooling and dripping off the counter. Her red fingers stain the porcelain. On her right hand she wears a simple wedding ring. And that’s when I realize…I know that wedding ring. I know that ratty blue nightgown.

“Mom…?” I whisper.

At first, the woman doesn’t register that I’m there. My voice wavers. “Mom?”