She stands in the doorway, silhouetted by the hallway light, while thick clumps of vomit fall off her, to the floor.

”Mamma,” she says in a high-pitched, whiney  voice.

”W-W-What?” Karen says, raising her head from the pillow. “H-H-H-Honey, a-are y-o-you okay?”

”Mamma, he said he’s coming for your soul.”