by C.G. Banks
*
Once again, a thousand years later maybe, she came back to her senses. She was lying crumpled by the hall bathroom, her legs splayed back toward the bedrooms, her left shoulder pushed into the angle between the wall and the living room entrance way. Her eyes opened gradually on the snowy picture buzzing from the Sony. Though she hadn’t the inclination to notice, the storm had abated, leaving nothing to remind other than a mild dripping ceaselessness from the roof tips. She turned her eyes to the attic door. Shut. Of course. There was no puddle on the floor to give credence to the nightmare she’d witnessed. But she didn’t need it.
She’d seen Terri (her little hands reaching out for her) and there was nothing now that would run her off or keep her away from taking back what had once been hers and John’s.
She was locked in to it now.