Chapter 37
I wake in my own bed, a headache pulsing in my skull.
I raise my hand to my forehead, and it feels swollen.
My skin feels tender and hot. Last night, I followed Doctor Lobo’s instructions to the letter, and after the sand finished pouring through the hourglass, I left and went into my own room.
I did not expect to sleep at all, between the pressure in my skull and the throbbing in my forehead.
Yet somehow I fell into a shallow and tormented sleep.
And now, hideous flashes of last night return to me: the evil whispers, the vibrating painting, my head uncontrollably banging against the bed frame, the voice whispering a backward tongue. Bloodcurdling screams.
It is strange. As I sit up, I hear birds chirping outside and pots clanging down in the kitchen.
Downstairs, Maria das Dores is cooking. I smell fried eggs.
The sun shines in the window and the blue sky is clear.
Perhaps it worked; the darkness was stirred up during the purge of the house, and maybe the dark spirits are gone.
Maybe it worked.
And if this did not work, then there is no more hope.
As I step out into the corridor, my heart pounds inside my chest. I brace for unnatural sounds.
The wooden floorboards creak beneath the soles of my feet as I make my way to the room where Mother sleeps.
My mouth and throat feel as though I have eaten sand.
I desperately need water. I cannot recall when I last drank water.
I slow as I reach the room. I hear Doctor Lobo’s voice and freeze in my tracks.
I do not allow myself to hope this time. I won’t allow my wishful thinking to deceive me a third time.
But he is speaking, Doctor Lobo. He speaks in a normal, conversational tone, though I cannot make out the words.
Then everything is utterly still. The silence feels endless, as if my presence is already known. A burning sensation pushes between my stomach and my chest. My hand trembles as I reach for the door handle.
I open the door.
Mother sits up on the bed, awake. Watching me.