Chapter Twenty-Five
Viviane slammed the door behind her. The screen door had been left open, unlocked. It landed against the frame with a soft thud. Then it bounced, tapping insistently. The beating of the door mirrored the thudding of her gut. It was like a drum beat, light but sure.
A spawn?
Inside the house she was confronted with the familiarity of all things. She’d spent the last couple of weeks trying to fit into a place where her presence was everywhere. Her life was measured on the smudges on the yellow walls. Her spills were in the cracks of the kitchen floor. Her scent was buried in that red sofa.
But right now, the smell of breakfast made her sick. The sight of the walls made her stomach ache. The red of the sofa hurt her eyes. The butterflies from this morning became a ragi
