Emma
Jezebel and I hurried into the house, the screen door slamming as we both came to a halt at the bottom of the staircase. Lying on the last steps and onto the wood floor was Edmée. I scanned her, searching for injuries. Her arms and legs appeared intact, bent at the correct angles. There was no blood or sign of trauma. She was simply splayed on the final steps.
“Do you think she fell?" I asked, my hands trembling from the scream and scene.
Jezebel shook her head. “We need to help her."
Together, we wrapped our arms under hers, not unlike the way Edmée and I had helped Jezebel upon my arrival. Her head wobbled on her neck as we lifted. Edmée couldn't weigh more than a hundred pounds, yet in her current unconscious state, she wasn't easy to maneuver.
“It's the spirits," Jezebel s
