Suddenly, out of nowhere or somewhere, things start to play tricks with my mind. And heart. And soul, if such a thing exists.
These visions or nightmares continue.
As if Mom left and something or someone filled her absence. But not with the person I thought. It’s been five days, and Lily hasn’t brought her suitcase and started shacking up with me.
Instead, there’s something else.
And the fact that I know that and just say it like I’m talking about the dog food on the ground—hey, look at the dog food, and hey, there’s an evil spirit in the fridge—that proves that either I’m totally bonkers or that it’s happening.
It’s really happening.
Doors opening.
Faucets turning on.
Things hitting the windows. Or the side of our house. Things that I discover the next morning are birds struck dead by the force of the hit.
Stuff like this—it’s only the beginning.
One night I discover the doors below my mom’s sink opened. Sure enough, the plywood is off and I can feel the cool air blowing out from the open passageway. It takes me about fifteen minutes to nail it back into place.
And sure enough, the next morning the plywood is off again.
It’s stuff like this. A freaking laundry list of hauntings. And by freaking I mean freaking out.
But that’s kid stuff compared to the stuff I start dreaming about. Things that I see not only at night, but sometimes when I’m riding to school or sitting in class or staring into my locker.
I seriously begin to not want to close my eyes.
I remember what Marsh said to me.
“Horrific visions. Stuff from nightmares. Nightmares blending into reality. Am I right?”
Uh, yeah, you’re always right.
“It’s all part of the process. Just—try not to freak out.”
Easy for you to say.
I wonder what “process” this is.
What am I becoming?
Then something strange happens.
Something that freaks me out in another sort of way.
One night I find a bottle of rum that my mom must have not thrown away once she came back from the hospital. Or maybe it was JUST IN CASE the whole rehab thing didn’t work a hundred percent. I don’t know. I was looking for something to clean up Midnight’s puke off the carpet (I gave her too many hot dog slices again), and I found the bottle of rum.
Unopened.
Just waiting for someone like me to toast to the insanity.
So that night, after I spend the day begging and pleading for Lily to come over, I decide to get acquainted with the rum. I open a two-liter of Diet Coke and begin to play bartender. The strange thing is I don’t feel the first two drinks I make.
On my third, I begin to feel the room spinning.
But this isn’t the strange thing that happens.
Sometime later that evening, I fall asleep on my couch watching television and eating Doritos.
I don’t hear anything strange that night.
I don’t experience any nightmarish visions.
I sleep like a baby.
When I wake up, I see the bottle of rum and the clock saying I’m an hour late to school and I really can’t believe that I didn’t dream anything last night.
I look at the bottle again, thinking of Mom.