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.”
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