“What the hell is going on?” A small chuckle erupted around Margine and Kyle. “I take it the alcohol is showing it’s true colors this morning, Margine?”

Kyle stood, rooted to the ground in front of Margine, as the mysterious voice pervaded every corner of the devastated house. The laughter echoed through the maze of partial walls, and black, ashy furniture.

“Come over here, Margine. Tell your little protector to stay right where he is, and you just come back to your old bedroom, Margine.”

Kyle frantically shook his head no, but something in Margine’s throbbing brain connected and recognized the voice.

She took a hesitant step towards the door of the bedroom, and met a sudden urge to throw up.

Before she even knew what was happening, she was right outside the blackened, but intact, door. She looked at Kyle, who was still beckoning her back.

She went inside, feeling like she was about to throw up again.

Margine saw the man sitting on her bed and fainted.