“Stop,” I said. My mouth shaped the word, but no sound came out. Still, I wondered if maybe this time my brain would listen. “Stop.”

But it didn’t stop. It went on all night, an endless cycle of gruesome consequences, and the worst part was that I couldn’t even laugh and comfort myself with how silly I was being, because this wasn’t sharks in swimming pools or malevolent geese. Nothing in my head was too unlikely, too far-fetched. These monsters were real, and they would come.

“Make it stop,” I said into the darkness of my room, over and over. “Make it stop!” Maybe I hoped the house would hear me and be able to do what I couldn’t. Maybe I hoped Vishnu would reappear as if by magic and say he’d help me, after all. Or maybe not. I wasn’t sure what I wanted. It was hard to know when there was no space inside my head for anything other than a desk, some curtains, and the monsters.

In the end, I knew only I could make it stop, and I had to. I had to do something. My fingers had left deep half-moons in my palms from digging my nails in so hard. My throat was raw. Even taking a breath hurt. I had to do something to make sure they couldn’t find me. I had to do something to quiet the noise inside my head. I couldn’t sit here and feel like this anymore.

I pretended to be asleep when Pip came to get me for breakfast. I waited to hear the sound of them all in the kitchen, safely tucked away, and then I got dressed. Unicorn pajamas and a borrowed pair of Pip’s scuffed sneakers. And I knew, even as I tiptoed out of my room, that I should stay put. I knew, even as I crept down the stairs, that I should go back to bed.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. It was too much.

So I slipped out of the front door and left Crow House.

17

The sun was up and blazing hot, and the air felt thick and sticky. The only person outside the house was the woman who swept the square every morning, and she paid no attention to me as I ran past her, past the statue, and ducked into one of the streets. Monsters darted across the sky with the soft shh shh shh of wings. I ducked into doorways, trying to keep out of sight. My heart pounded.

Would I be able to find my way back to the tear between worlds? I hoped so. I had a pretty good visual memory, probably from all the time I spend creating pictures, so I was sure I could remember the way we had come.

I passed a few people, but no one tried to speak to me. They ducked their heads and walked past. I hated how quickly everyone moved, how hurriedly they spoke to each other, how fast they seemed to want to get back to their homes. I hated how afraid they were.