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door open, stepping inside.
    The next thing I knew, I was walking into my basement. I froze with my hand still on the handle. I was just at the orphanage, what felt like literally a second ago. How was I back here?
    I tried to think, but it was like a wall had thrown itself up in my short term memory. I couldn't remember anything, after I'd opened the shed door. And it didn't feel like any time had passed. But I was back at my house, like I'd never left.
    My head throbbed like crazy. I rubbed the temples with the heels of both hands. I'd never blacked out like this. I'd had a few brief times a year ago when I'd lost moments, minutes of time, one during the seance in which everyone thought (mistakenly) that I'd had a seizure.
    But nothing like this. I must have been so tired that I didn't remember walking home. It could have been the benzo withdrawal messing with my memory, I surmised. Not feeling in control of my own brain frightened me.
    Outside the glass door panes, the world was beginning to take on the pale shade of approaching dawn. That meant there was at least an hour I couldn't account for. Maybe longer. That scared me even more.
    In my room, I pulled the bed spread down and slipped off my tennis shoes. I had to try to sleep. School was in a couple of hours, whether I had rested or not. And I just wanted to forget my stupid night time excursion.
    A monstrous thudding erupted, shaking the walls from its intensity. Banging came from every direction at once, yet nowhere in particular. I backed out of the door and into the hallway, my shoulders hitting the drywall. Sliding towards the floor, I cowered and covered my ears. It sounded like the house was collapsing down around me.
    Shutting my eyes, I buried my face between my knees. Tiny mewling sounds of fear escaped my mouth. The knocking continued, drilling into my brain. I couldn't take it anymore. If it kept up, I would go insane.
    And then the sound swallowed itself up. I brought my hands down and listened. It had become a faint, steady rapping. An ordinary sound, caused by a person. Listening closely, I realized it was coming from the french doors.
    Back in the main basement, I couldn't see anything outside. The porch light had burnt out months ago and Hugh hadn't gotten around to replacing it. The early morning fog was impenetrable, hazier with the light of the rising sun.
    Unnatural shadows had gathered just outside. Whatever lay beyond was a guess. I swallowed in my dry throat, and crept closer. I threw the lock open. The door slid open with a rush of strange, bitter-scented air.
    "Finally!" Jenna exclaimed, marching into the room and regarding me with her hands on her slender hips. "I've been knocking forever!"
     
     

CHAPTER 4
    AIR RATTLED AROUND uselessly in my lungs. I was on the verge of hyperventilating, but no matter how deeply I breathed, I couldn't get enough oxygen. I clutched my hands in an unnatural position up by my heart, kneading my knuckles with numb fingers.
    Jenna had sprawled on my bed, curly hair like snakes across the lump of pillows. She was currently investigating her nails.
    "These hearts took so long to paint, I'm glad they're not chipping," she said to herself.
    She looked so real. I was standing just inside the room, and had decided I was officially nuts, medication or not. Commit me now, because this was crazy.
    She still wore the same clothes as the night she disappeared, just like when I'd seen her in visions and dreams. But that had felt far away, almost like something out of a fable. The fairy godmother who visits in the night, albeit the goth, spooky version. This was dangerous and up close.
    I'd believed in ghosts before, misty apparitions and restless spirits. Maybe I still did. But not this. Because she looked as real as a flesh and blood, living person.
    "No. You can't be here. No. You can't be here." I repeated it over and over, a mantra.
    "What's up with you?" Jenna asked casually, frowning. I couldn't look away from her. I