I woke up disoriented, the ceiling spinning above me like the blades of a slow fan. The faint smell of peppermint clung to the room. I blinked twice—once in confusion, and again in horror—because I remembered. That post. Rest In Peace, Prisca.
I bolted upright.
"Prisca!" I gasped, fumbling for my phone on the side table.
It was dead silent for a moment, until I heard a stir. Carl was slouched on the armchair near the bed, his head lolling sideways, his lips slightly parted in sleep.
Had he… stayed with me all night?
My fingers trembled as I grabbed my phone. I didn't care about anything else. I had to call her again. I had to make sure I hadn't fallen into a dark pit of grief and hallucinations. The device buzzed to life, and I scrolled frantically to her contact and dialed.
Switched off.
Again.
Switched off.
Carl stirred and looked at me through sleep-heavy eyes. "Sidney," he whispered, voice gravelly, "you're awake…"
