Chapter Ten
Cold fall rain hammered the city, purging what little warmth was left from summer.
It had been almost two weeks since the house on the Hudson, the hospital, and Ozone Park, but Alistair was still raw and foggy. Her hands still occasionally shook, residual rattling from her episode, and her brain was clouded and opaque, like a thought cataract. She remembered Aunt Kath being prone to occasional migraines, and Kath had always said the worst was the migraine itself, but what followed could be almost as bad—days and days of foggy, zombified confusion from having your brain explode. Alistair could relate. She’d almost forgotten over the years how these episodes always took it out of her, but it had been so long, she’d underestimated their power. Forgotten their cost.
The last tim
