* * *
Fifth Floor for the Especially Obstinate, Malady Room Eight, 9 p.m. As exhausted as I was after a day at the ‘torture spa’, I always looked forward to spending my post-torture evenings with my equally ‘malfunctioned’ friends. Tonight, however, Madame Helena was holding a mandatory gala in the never-used ballroom of Hambourg House. Dubbed the Comet Cotillion, this godforsaken event has made Madame Helena unusually giddy during the past few weeks. Seeing Madame Helena in a happy, almost carefree mood was like a nightmare come true; no joke…the woman could scare the ever-loving crap out of the devil himself.
Earlier this evening, Madame Helena’s guards dumped tattered boxes of formal wear through drop slots in the ceiling of our room. The selection of dresses was less than stellar, let me tell you. Every dress was a combination of purple and lime, the official colors of Helena’s institution of suckdom. And the color clash wasn’t the worst part: the gowns were significantly frayed, faded, and smelled like mothballs, which meant…they’d been worn before.
As I twisted the butt-enhancing lime and purple plaid bows, I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to the poor girl who wore this dress before me. I stared at my reflection in the cracked, moldy mirror and shook my head. Neon-red hair, aqua eyes, and severely pasty-pale skin kinda clashed with a lime-trimmed purple dress. I looked beyond hideous.
“I look like a glow-in-the-dark garden gnome,” I muttered.
Polly Purdue added a clip to her bubblegum-pink hair, straightened the lime bow on her short purple dress, and said, “Yes, you really do. Honestly, Marina, you look absolutely ridiculous.” Polly’s talent was the ability to swap souls with demons. As such, she typically loses parts of her human soul and returns with demon replacement bits, thus making her completely socially inept. You never knew what might fly out of her mouth at any given moment. “At least you look better than Meikle. She can’t pull off lime. Actually, she can’t pull off any color. It’s like her skin literally rejects color. Pity.” Yeah, see what I mean?
Meikle Martinez, stroking her beloved purple sequined bag, glared at Polly from her corner cot. Meikle was one badass witch who adored all things dark. Even her voice was startlingly menacing. Seeing her in something as garish as a lime green frock was jarring, to say the least. Shoving her chestnut curls behind her ears, she said, “I don’t do color. Color is my hell.”
“Your bag is purple,” quipped Polly.
Meikle clutched her bag to her chest. “My bag is the only color I allow.” Polly eyed Meikle’s bag and raised her eyebrow. “If you don’t stop ogling my bag, I’ll have it suck out your eyes.”
“God, what is it with you and that damn bag?” asked Polly.
Petting her bag, Meikle said, “For me to know.”
“Meikle’s bag is special, Polls,” I said. “You know that.”
Polly shrugged. “So she says. However…it would match my gown for tonight, so maybe I could just borrow—”
“Not a chance in hell,” growled Meikle.
“Damn. I’m gone for five minutes in the bathroom and you two start goin’ at it,” said Trey Campbell. Trey was my date for tonight’s farce fest and my very best friend. He was one helluva good-looking guy, even in the God-awful lime polo and purple pants he was forced to wear. He had light brown hair, insanely gorgeous green eyes, and a svelte, yet strong build. “So, who started it this time, Squiggle? The witch or the pink-haired part-demon girl?” Oh, he so already knew the answer to that one! Trey was an intuitionist, meaning he could uncover truths better than a certain London-based, world-famous detective.
“Pink-haired part-demon girl,” I said, winking at Trey. I loved when he called me Squiggle; it always made me feel like things would be okay, no matter how dire they appeared.
Polly crossed her arms. “That’s highly inaccurate. I hardly glanced at Meikle’s bag and WHAM! The witch goes ballistic…or as ballistic as a monotone, gloom-ball can go.”
Trey laughed. “Yep, it was definitely Polls who stoked this fire.”
Not wanting Meikle to curse Polly with some anti-demon spell, I quickly said, “Um, subject change approaching…Polls, did you ever decide on who you’re going to the dance with?”
Polly sighed. “My options were less than thrilling: Marvin the boiling blood-douser or Terry, the human tornado who has a belching problem. Let’s see, what would I rather fill my night with…boiling blood on my dress or burps in my face?!”
Trey and I lost it, while Meikle…well…she cracked a semi-smile. Yeah, Meikle wasn’t much for laughing…or smiling.
“So, does that mean you decided against both?” I asked.
“Oh, no, I decided on both. Yes, both will have the pleasure of escorting me,” said Polly, flipping her hair. “Whichever one dances the best without either squirting blood or belching a juicy one might be allowed to grope me later tonight.”
“You know who’s gonna get jealous, right?” said Meikle, a very, very slight sarcastic grin curling one side of her mouth.
“Dreary Dann,” I supplied. “He’s had it bad for Polls ever since she arrived.”
Polly closed her eyes. “I will never, under any circumstance, allow Dreary Dann to have the pleasure of even holding my hand. And I’m an excellent hand-holder.”
Trey, flopping on the cot next to Meikle, said, “What’s so wrong with him? Throw him a date and he might leave you alone.”
Polly’s eyes started turning black—a sure sign that her inner demon bits were growing very angry. “He’s the most depressing creature on the planet. Just his voice makes me want to jump out the window! And then there’s his talent…”
“Oh, you mean the phlegm-breathing thing?” I said, trying not to laugh.
“Bingo!” Polly screeched.
“Ah, yeah, that’s pretty gross,” said Trey.
“Oh, ya think?” said Polly. “The last time he attempted to ask me out, he spewed phlegm all over my shoes. Not enticing.”
“ROOM EIGHT! EXIT NOW!” shouted a Retriever as the doors to our room flung open.
I led the way as Trey, Polly, Meikle, and the rest of room eight followed behind. The other rooms on our floor had already been emptied; there were two rows—boys to the right, girls to the left. I lined up behind Hatchet-Hand Gwen (seriously, her hands could turn into actual hatchets) and almost gagged: the musty, mothball scent from our old gala garb intensified as we collected in the hallway, triggering my sensitive gag reflex.
The Retriever, his net gun pointed at us, bellowed, “Top floor, last door on the right. MOVE!”
“Your tone of acceptance and warmth really touches my heart,” I quipped.
Trey sniffed and feigned a whimper. “Yeah, I might actually tear up.”
“Shut up and walk, freaks,” said the Retriever.
Upon climbing the many creaky stairs, we trundled down the dark hallway and filed into the ballroom…if you could even call it a ballroom. True, I’ve never stepped foot in one, but I remember the fairy tale movies Mom would show me when I was little, where the ballrooms were bright, airy, golden, and fantastical. The ballroom in Madame Helena’s institution was better akin to a morgue. The floors were slate gray, dull, and dusty; the walls were equally as lackluster with old purple floral wallpaper that was curling and peeling. There were no windows, no chandeliers. The lone food table sported such delights as moldy bread, curdled milk, and burnt cookies. An old-fashioned record player in the front of the aged ballroom attempted to play a scratched album of tunes from the fifties.
“They sure went all out for this shindig,” I said sarcastically.
Polly huffed. “Well, what did you expect? Madame Helena doesn’t exactly like our kind. Frankly, the whole concept of Madame Helena throwing a party for us is nonsensical.”
“She’s up to something, isn’t she?” I said.
“It would certainly seem so,” replied Polly.
Trey shrugged. “Maybe she figured a ball would highlight just how much our lives suc
k. You know how her world gets brighter when she’s shoving it up our asses.”
“Well, she’s not failing, is she?” said Polly. “I mean, look at us! We look absurd.”
“We look like something Polly’s demon bits would vomit on any given day,” growled Meikle.
Polly shot Meikle a displeased glance. “Though I wouldn’t go that far, Meeks does have a point. We look horrible and we smell worse, like some old woman’s attic. The food is inedible, the music is warped…something isn’t right about this.”
“Something definitely stinks…besides us, I mean,” I said.
Trey, looking around the room, said, “Wait. This can’t be everyone in the institution.”
“That’s because it’s only the fifth floor occupants,” Meikle grumbled, stroking her bag.
“Ooooh, not good,” I said, my stomach churning. “Madame Helena’s gathering only her most bullheaded occupants and putting them in one room…and I doubt it’s for square-dancing lessons and jovial fun.”
“What do we—” started Polly.
“Hiya, Polly.” Carrying his box of tissues, Dreary Dann shuffled up to us. “I’m reasonably pleased you came tonight.” Dann had the most depressing demeanor known to mankind; even his voice was miserable. Still, he was cute…kinda like a cartoon bug.
“Good evening, Dann,” said Polly, rolling her eyes. “We were in the middle of something, so if you could kindly lea—”
“Did you bring a date tonight?” he said, his forlorn eyebrows raised high on his forehead.
“Yes,” replied Polly. “They’re over by the wall, waiting for me to summon them.”
Terry, the burp-nado, was a laidback guy with grayish-brown hair, caramel skin, and light gray eyes. He was actually good-looking, definitely flirt-worthy…until he unleashed an eardrum-blasting burp. Yeah, the constant belching kinda killed the whole flirt-worthy thing. Marvin, on the other hand, was meek and gawky with straw blond hair and deep blue eyes that would periodically fill with blood as he fought off blood-spurting surges. What can I say? We were a bizarre group of misfits.
“For obvious reasons, I don’t want them near me,” Polly added, brushing some dirt off of her dress.
Dann, never taking his eyes off of Polly, said, “I’m very discontented that they have the honor of awaiting your summons.” Dann swallowed hard, undoubtedly choking down a phlegm-wad. “Perhaps tonight you might wish my company for—”
“Absolutely not,” Polly said, snorting.
Dann nodded morosely and trundled off.
“I sort of feel bad for Dann. I doubt the poor guy has ever had a reason to smile in his life,” I said.
“Marina, so help me, I will demon-out on you,” said Polly, her eyes flashing black.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
Meikle groaned. “If we could please back-burner the talk of Polly’s many abysmal suitors and focus on the potential crisis we might be facing… What the hell could Madame Hell-ena be up to?”
The question barely left Meikle’s mouth when the sound of doors slamming against the wall startled all of us. Sweeping inside was Madame Helena, the train of her purple and lime polka dot gown billowing behind her.
“Welcome to the Comet Cotillion!” she said, much too cheerily. Madame Helena was like a demented fairy tale villain with her extraordinarily long nose, perfectly coiffed lime hair, and spooky orange eyes. “Tonight marks a very special moment for me. As you know, our ultimate goal is to purge from you the unholy talents that make you unwanted in the United States. Unfortunately, some of you are less than cooperative. Thus, tonight, I give you…the comet capture.”
Madame Helena swiveled on one foot, swinging her hand around the room; blackened claws burst through the walls and began grabbing partygoers. Screams pierced my ears; the room was a blur of purple, lime, horrified faces, and freakish vein-covered, charcoaled, claw-like hands. I lost sight of Trey, Polly, and Meikle. Something shattered behind me. Flipping around, I saw a charred hand shooting for my body. I dropped to the floor and rolled sideways, my hair fluttering from the whoosh of the hand as it flew over me.
The empty claw retreated towards the wall, where it paused and wiggled its fingers, readying itself for another attempt at catching me. Stumbling slightly when I stood up, I heard groans, screams, and whimpers. When I allowed myself to soak in the scene before me, I thought I might vomit: every occupant of the fifth floor for the Especially Obstinate was suspended above the floor, trapped within the clutches of massive, undead beastly hands.
Clapping from somewhere across the room caught my attention. Spinning around, I found Madame Helena sauntering towards me. She clicked her tongue in a ‘tisk-tisk’ fashion. “Clever move, Miss Valentine. But you won’t be able to dodge it forever…will she, my friend?”
Damn. She distracted me long enough for the claw to successfully snatch me. Raising me off the ground, the claw squeezed my arms and middle so tightly, I thought I might pass out. To my left, Meikle was cussing up a hurricane; immediately to my right was Trey, glaring at Madame Helena. On the other side of Trey was Polly, who, with her darkening eyes and deepening voice, was on the precipice of unleashing her inner demon bits.
Posing in the center of the ballroom, Madame Helena observed her handiwork. “Now, then…that’s not so bad, is it? Consider this a party favor.” Polly started screaming in some demonic language. “I see Miss Purdue’s inner demons are cranky. Don’t worry, dear. Soon, you will be relieved of your malfunction. In fact, in a matter of moments, all of your malfunctions will be removed from your bodies. You are merely moments away from being regular, ordinary humans. At which point, you may return to your families, free of the malfunctions hindering your lives.”
“Maybe we prefer life with our talents,” Meikle growled.
“You mean ‘malfunctions’, don’t you Miss Martinez?” snapped Madame Helena.
“No. I mean talents, you evil bitch,” said Meikle.
Madame Helena smiled a frightening grin. “Quite a mouth on you, little witch.”
“Oh…you have no idea,” replied Meikle, an equally vicious smile stretching across her face.
“What do you get from this?” I asked. “Are you going to help all the other institutions rid their occupants of their talents? Is that what this is about?”
“Of course not! Goodness, Marina! You are naïve, child. I’m concerned about me, my institution. To be the very first establishment to effectively rid society of the worst malfunctions, well…imagine the recognition I will receive from your government. I will be heralded a hero.”
Pulling a ‘you must sniffing glue’ face, I said, “You’ve got a seriously warped definition of hero, lady.”
Madame Helena bent forward, placed her hands on her knees, and cackled. It was disturbing as all hell. After a moment, a bright blue glow coming from a bracelet on her left wrist widened her mad eyes. “Oh! It’s time! We’re about to begin!” Sweeping her arm over her head, the ceiling disappeared, leaving only a starry night sky above us. It was amazing how something so beautiful, so freeing, could suddenly be so terrifying. “Shall we count down? Five…four…three…two…one…”
Madame Helena ran from the room and slammed the door shut; the sound of locks clicking in place echoed off the walls.
“Okay, that’s troubling,” said Trey.
“You mean aside from the crispy claws holding us in place?” I quipped.
“What do we do now?” asked Polly, her eyes fully black.
“I don’t know, Polls. Oooh, let me go, you burnt piece of crap!” I shouted, fruitlessly fighting against the freaky claw holding me in place.
“Squirming won’t get you anything but a stomach cramp and a pulled butt muscle,” Polly muttered.
“LOOK! COMET!” screamed Hatchet-Hand Gwen.
A beautiful bright white comet soared slowly over our heads; as it did, an enormous orange cloud consumed the room. When the cloud dissipated, gleaming blue energy ribbons floated down fr
om the comet and, one by one, inserted themselves into the skulls of each one of us.
“Okay. This isn’t good,” I said, watching in horror as Terry, Marvin, and Hatchet-Hand Gwen struggled against the pain, their eyes turning ghostly white as blood oozed out of their gaping mouths. “Really, really isn’t good.”
“The ribbons are getting closer to us!” shouted Polly. “Figure something out, Marina, because I do NOT fancy something stabbing through my brain!”
“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly my idea of fun, either, Polls!” I growled, racking my brain for some semblance of a good idea.
“Uh, Marina?” said Trey. “Something’s wrong with Meeks.”
My heart lurched into my throat. I turned my head to face Meikle. “Oh, God…no.”
Though the comet’s ribbons had not yet attached to Meikle, its mere presence was having a dreadful effect on our favorite witch. Meikle’s hair stood on end; her head tilted back and forth and side to side at an ungodly pace; her legs trembled, as if that part of her body was suffering a seizure. Suddenly, she became very still; her catlike eyes glowed yellow as they narrowed on the comet; a soft, shimmering snow emitted from her skin.
Clutching her bag, she said darkly, “Release me…now.” The claw holding her crumbled into a fine powder. As a soft snow continued to rise from her skin, Meikle gently floated to the floor. Slowly, she walked to the middle of the room. Holding her bag to the sky, she cried, “Coristosh Meriaconk Fialwrb Klorsacprel!”
A huge blast of white light engulfed the room. Once the darkness of the ballroom returned, the comet’s ribbons were gone. Terry, Marvin, Gwen, and all those who were in such agony from the ribbons were back to normal and safe. It was a wonderfully relieving sight to behold, though not nearly as astonishing as the vision of Meikle, calmly standing in the center of the room, holding the quivering comet in her bare hands.
“Meeks…how did you…when did you…I can’t settle on a question,” I said, gawking at my friend.
Smirking, Meikle purred, “Gwen, use your powers to break free from the claw. Then, help the others get down…unless you all can maneuver your talents and free yourselves.”
Hatchet-Hand Gwen transformed her hands into hatchets and chopped through her restraints, sending chunks of stubby fingers thudding against the floor.
“Well,” began Polly, “that would’ve been useful, Gwen. Could’ve freed all of us way before now. I suppose you couldn’t have thought of going all hatchet-handy any sooner?”
“I was a little distraught, Polly,” said Gwen. “Honestly, I didn’t think it would work.”
“Oh, there’s a fantastic excuse not to at least try,” barked Polly, rolling her eyes. “I’m fairly certain we were all distressed, yet Meeks had the wherewithal to get witch-y and grab a comet.”
Watching Meikle standing so confidently, twisting the comet around in her hand, I felt a sudden surge of empowerment. Strangely, the moment this surge coursed through me, the claw unfolded and dropped me to the floor.
“Hey, how’d you do that?” asked Trey.
“I dunno. I just felt totally encouraged by Meeks and starting feeling sorta kick ass and…it let me go.”
Hearing my words, Dann said, “Marina has awakened something in me. For whatever reason, I now have an abnormally euphoric desire to kick some buttocks.” Working up a massive wad of phlegm, he blanketed the claw in goop. Needless to say, the claw let him go, attempting to shake off some of the phlegm in the process.
One by one, we used our various talents to free ourselves from Madame Helena’s claws. However, neither Terry nor Marvin could successfully free themselves, thus Dann and his phlegm-blanketing ability obliged.
“That’s revolting,” began Polly, eyeing Dann, “and yet…weirdly sexy.” Polly allowed her inner demon bits to infuse her with the strength she needed to shred the claw to pieces. “That was highly enjoyable.” Polly admired the demolished hell-hand scattered around her feet.
Dreary Dann hurried over to Polly. “I heard what you said…it gave me a flutter of hope. Do you think maybe now you might let me—”
Crossing her arms, Polly snapped, “What did I say earlier?”
“‘Absolutely not’” said Dann, repeating what Polly had said to his previous attempt at courting her.
“Right, that is what I said…however, my position may be changing. We are now in full ‘maybe’ territory.”
“Really?” Dann inquired, his eyes wide.
“Maybe,” said Polly.
“Wait. Are we in the ‘maybe’ zone or are we maybe in the ‘maybe’ zone?”
“Yes.”
“Oh…um…huh?”
“Really, Polls?” I said. She simply glanced at me through half-closed eyes and casually shrugged one shoulder. Jesus. Poor Dann. Polly was in the mood to tease, and Dann was the unlucky recipient.
The doors of the ballroom flew off their hinges, soared across the room, and crashed into the walls. Madame Helena stormed inside with a team of needle-swinging doctors. Stomping right up to Meikle, she growled, “How dare you!”
Holding the comet before her, Meikle said, “Comets do not like to be used for evil. You abused its energy. It wants payback.”
Madame Helena eyed the comet and took one step back.
“In fact, I think we all want payback,” I said, as Trey cracked his knuckles and Polly muttered in yet another distinctly demon language.
We all closed in on Madame Helena and the doctors. We knew she had powers beyond our comprehension. Attacking her could get us all killed, and we weren’t about ready to forfeit in our battle against Madame Helena, the many institutions, and our government. But, it sure was fun watching her squirm.
Meikle loosened her grip on the comet. The comet blasted from her hand; stopping it merely an inch from Madame Helena’s nose, Meikle said, “If I let this go, it will kill you…but that would make me no better than you.” She turned and held the comet to the sky. “Go home.” When she released the comet, it swirled around her gracefully and took its place back in the sky. Pivoting around, Meikle glared at Madame Helena. “Remember this moment, because the next time we meet like this, I won’t hold back…and you won’t win.”
“Wait! What?! That’s it!” yelped Polly. “Oh, don’t do this to me, Meeks! That big-beaked bitch deserves some sort of retribution!”
In that instant, Dann unleashed a mother lode of phlegm all over Madame Helena.
Madame Helena removed a handkerchief from her bosom and wiped off her face. The fury bubbling behind her eyes meant trouble for us in the days to come. “Retrievers, escort the malfunctions back to their rooms. Tomorrow, you all will pay dearly. Prepare for…group therapy.”
“Honestly, it was so worth it,” I said to loads of laughs.
Madame Helena spun around and marched out of the room with her team of doctors scurrying behind her.
Turning to Polly, Dann said, “Where are we with that ‘maybe’? Think we’re in ‘possibly now’ territory?”
Biting her lip, Polly said, “Screw possibly. We’re in the land of ‘oh hell yes’…once you’ve showered, that is.”
For the first time since knowing him, Dann unleashed a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Polly and Dann left the ballroom together. Lord only knows what she had in store for him. Whatever it was, he was sure to be a happy boy.
“Meikle, you were epic,” I said, squeezing her.
“Thanks…stop hugging me.”
I immediately let her go. “Oh, oops. Sorry about that. I forgot you don’t do hugs.”
“So, what hell do you think Madame Helena will put us through tomorrow?” asked Trey as we piled out of the ballroom.
Shrugging, I said, “Eh, probably the usual, only doubled or tripled…or quadrupled. Truthfully, I don’t give a flipping fart what she does to us. Watching Meeks make that evil wench take a step back was a memory I wouldn’t trade for anything. Plus, I’m kinda thinkin’ we’re stronger than we think.”
/> “Agree with everything you just said, Squiggle,” said Trey, tweaking my chin.
“I’m pretty sure we shocked old toucan nose tonight,” I mused. “I don’t think she ever expected us to stand against her like we did. I saw a speck of astonished fear in her eyes.”
“Only a speck?” said Meikle.
“Yeah, afraid so,” I replied. “It’s going to take a lot more to make Madame Helena shake in her butt ugly heels.”
“Huh. Well, then, perhaps we should make that speck a decent size puddle,” said Meikle.
“What does that mean?” asked Trey, grinning.
“Meeks. What are you up to?” I felt those wonderful little bubbles of anticipation in my gut.
“Oh, well, you know…I may have captured just enough of that comet to make Madame Helena pee herself,” said Meikle, stroking her bag.
Trey and I doubled over, laughing. “Oh, God, I love you, Meeks,” I said.
“Goes for me, too,” Trey croaked.
Swinging her bag, Meikle purred, “If you love me now, just wait until tomorrow.”
We smiled confidently—bordering on cocky—as the Retrievers ushered us down the dank hallways and stairs. Maybe I’m wrong, but I have a feeling misfits just might rule the world one day. Man, what a crazy, wacky world that would be…and fun…lots and lots of fun.
About Sutton Shields
Ms. Shields is a sports-loving, holiday addict with a seriously stupid cricket and grasshopper phobia. To highlight her membership in the dork category, Ms. Shields simply cannot bring herself to clean out a pumpkin because, to her, it would be like de-stuffing a stuffed animal. Despite her idiocy, Ms. Shields adores her parents and always hopes to make people smile, even if it means making a fool out of herself.
Website
Twitter
Facebook
The Shadow Keepers
Anya Allyn
One
The front door hung open—that was never a good sign. Seven-year-old Molly Parkes dashed up the cracked concrete stairs to her apartment, tossing her school bag down just inside the front doorway.
Things were still. Too still. When Mama had one of her crying times, she’d often be balled up on the couch with red eyes and scarecrow hair. But not today.
Molly tiptoed along the dark hall. It smelled of mold and dust, with deep cracks making the wallpaper peel and split. Every time Mama grew sad, she grew thinner and the cracks in the walls seemed to grow wider. Molly often worried that one day Mama would just disappear into those cracks.
Pushing open the door to her mother’s bedroom, she peered inside. Her relief at the sight of Mama lying on the bed crumbled as she noticed the open bottle of tablets in her hand. Mama’s skin glistened like the underside of a fish. When Molly stepped across and touched her, she felt cold and clammy. Panic ran in waves through Molly’s small body. There had been twenty-six tablets left in the bottle. Molly had counted them herself a week ago. She always counted Mama’s tablets—ever since Mama had taken too many one morning and had to spend days in hospital.
Three tablets remained in the bottle.
Three.
On the other side of the bed, the curtain rippled. Molly’s jaw set rigidly. The window was shut. It had been jammed shut ever since they moved in here—the landlord refusing to fix it no matter how nicely Mama asked. No breeze ever came through a jammed-shut window. Ever. It had to be something else, something—
Then she saw her. An indistinct figure, standing in the folds of the curtain. Her hair was long and red, like her own. A girl of around eighteen. The figure stared back with large eyes.
“Who are you?” Molly’s voice closed like a fist in her throat.
The Girl simply shook her head. She grew faint, so faint that Molly could see the palm-tree pattern of the curtains straight through her. She was gone, and Molly was alone in the room with her mother.
She wasn’t sure of anything right now, except for one thing—one thought that exploded inside her mind: Mama was dead.
Celestial Page 29
