Aunt Nellie comes over to the couch, carrying a huge glass of sweet tea which she sets on a TV tray beside me. “Drink up. You need to hydrate.”
I sip the tea, hoping my obedience will please her enough that she’ll grant my request. It’s sweeter than usual, with a more intense flavor. “Can I have my phone for a little while?”
“The battery’s dead.” She purses her lips, considering. “Tell you what. You finish that glass of tea, and I’ll charge it for you. You can have it tonight.”
“Thank you,” I say fervently.
“You’re welcome.” She strokes my forehead with a cool hand.
“I think I’m getting better,” I tell her. “I’ve never experienced such a bad recovery period after an episode, but it seems to have passed. I think I’ll be fine to stay here by myself tomorrow, so you can go back to work.”And I can leave this house.
“Sarah has been handling everything,” she replies. “While you were resting, I popped into the store now and then to check on things and keep up with paperwork and payroll. But I was overdue for some time off anyway.”
Her hand continues smoothing stray curls back into the braid she did for me this morning. “If I’ve been hard on you, it’s only because I want what’s best. You know that, don’t you?”
Best for who?I want to reply, but I restrain myself because I want my damn phone. So instead of answering, I nod. She removes her hand, looking satisfied, and I prop myself up on one elbow so I can drink the sweet tea. I gulp it down so fast Aunt Nellie chuckles.
“I’ll go make us a big lunch.”
“A big lunch?” I raise my eyebrows. “You’re going to eat too?” I’ve barely seen her eat for days.
“Oh yes.” She smiles pleasantly at me—the signature AuntNellie smile. “Our time of fasting is over. We understand God’s will now, and we know how to seal the demon in his tomb forever. Pastor Linton and the deacons announced it a few days ago, and we’ve been praying over it as a congregation since then. This morning’s message affirmed everything, and I’m ready—weare ready to make this sacrifice. So today’s meal will be a celebration, and then tonight we will cleanse the world of the god’s foul presence.”
Well, we had a nice moment before she went all cultish on me again. I hum a sound of noncommittal assent as I focus on draining the last of the sweet tea. Then I lean back on the sofa and relax, waiting for my celebratory meal. I’m so hungry, I feel like my stomach might swallow my insides.
It’ll be nice to have something besides crackers. If only I didn’t feel…so sleepy… I…can’t keep my eyes open…
I blink, trying to clear the film over my eyes. Aunt Nellie has paused in the kitchen doorway and she’s looking back at me, but I can’t see her expression. My vision is blurring, and my eyelids are so thick, swollen, and heavy, I can’t keep them open.
Moments ago I was climbing out of the dreary river of the past week and a half, slogging out of the murk into the bright sunshine, but now I’m sliding backward into the darkness again, my limbs too heavy to fight against the sucking downward pull of the black water.
The realization flickers in my brain like the last spark before a fire dies.
Sweet tea. Aunt Nellie’s own special herbal blend.
The nausea, the lack of appetite, the drowsiness, the brain fog…
I wasn’t sick or struggling to recover from that traumatic episode. Aunt Nellie has been drugging me.
She’s been doing it ever since I collapsed at the church.
I want to yell at her, but I don’t have the strength. My lungs arebusy hauling slow, shallow breaths through my lungs. My heart beats sluggishly, just enough to keep me alive.
I move my lips a little. Just enough for one breath, one exhaled word.
“Heathcliff.”
***
I’m distantly conscious of being lifted, stripped, dressed in something filmy. Cold air bathes my skin, then a noise rumbles all around me, fading into the steady hum of a car.
Fragrance wafts into my nose, a fresh scent like lilies by a pond—Aunt Nellie’s perfume. The humming and the lilies and the drowsiness are all I know for a long time.
At last, a car door opens and freezing air blasts across my face. The shock is sharp enough to wake me, and I manage to open my eyes.
I still can’t move very well. Someone unbuckles me, swings my legs out onto the ground. It’s horribly cold, and the frozen breath of the night bites right through whatever I’m wearing.
I’m lifted upright, my arms pulled across the shoulders of two people who brace me from either side, Aunt Nellie and my dad. I recognize his scent, too—Old Spice body spray and citrus detergent.
