Then I threw up. All over my shirt.
I'm really sorry about what happened last night. I wasn't myself. It's really, really hard to think rationally when your entire (long-dead) family is whispering in your ears that you can't fuck up again and let anybody else die, like you let them die.
They did it all night. That's why I was fighting you so hard, August. I don't know what I said to you, but I didn't mean it, I swear. I'm so sorry.
Anyway, whatever that drug August gave me was, it didn't like me much. I had to throw up a couple more times after breakfast, then I went and took a nap. And what do you know. Fifteen minutes later, I woke up from a nightmare. Leaning against the wall. Next to the entrance to the East Wing.
I dragged myself back to my room, and it happened again. Fall asleep, nightmare, wake up, East Wing. I did it three times before I finally just gave in and curled up on the floor right where I woke up.
And for the first time since I was about nine, I slept without a single nightmare. I just woke up. I'm sitting across the hallway from the East Wing entrance on the second floor right now as I'm writing this.
Don't worry, I won't go in.
Grandma says it's not time yet.