I reared back slightly at this very unwelcome news, but even that made me feel ten times worse. So I went back to meek acceptance. There would be time for protest later.

I DREAMED THE room was filled with thousands of tiny creatures. They covered the floor and walls and dropped from the ceiling. They crawled up my legs and over my arms and through my hair. I tried to see what they were, but they were too small and moved too fast. All I knew was that they were everywhere, that they wanted to block out the light and air and smother me in darkness—and I was powerless to stop them.

I was too weak to scream out loud.

But in my dream, I screamed for hours. For days.

It didn’t help.

I WOKE IN bed. My head was luminously pain-free. My body was weak, but the fact that my insides weren’t actively trying to escape through my throat was like angelic wings lovingly caressing me.

I felt weightless, amazing. It was a new world, one where nothing could touch or hurt me ever again.

It was nighttime—I could see stars through the small window, and fingers of wispy white clouds.

I sat up. My head bobbled and my muscles might as well have been full of air. My vision was bleary and every bit of light was vaguely outlined by a shimmering halo.

But I still felt great. Wow, I feel great, I thought. I feel so great.

My feet touched the floor, and I noted the smooth coolness of the floorboards. I propelled myself to a standing position and almost tumbled forward. I paused, trying to gauge how much effort it really took to change positions. And then I slowly made my way out into the nursery.

I stopped by the bathroom to pee and found a bottle of energy drink waiting for me by the sink, the cap loosened for my weak fingers. I took a few tentative sips and let the salty wetness soak my tongue. Then I set it down—no point tempting fate, although I felt so much better that I couldn’t even imagine throwing up—and went back out to the main room.

Every movement seemed to have a little wispy tail that I couldn’t control. If I moved my hand, it kept moving for a moment after I tried to stop it. If I turned my head, my shoulders wanted to turn, too.

I looked around, at Agatha’s empty bed, at the way the moonlight fell on the toy box and the shelves with their furry stuffed animals, at the idyllic pattern on the wallpaper. I felt almost as if the room had me under some kind of spell, and I’d been transported a hundred years into the past.

Why did I feel so weird?

I felt like I’d been drugged.