CHAPTER 4THUNDERSTORM IN A BOX
NAOMI
Bad dreams. That’s what comes of forgetting to say your prayers.
In the dream, I watched myself, standing in a room full of broken glass. Something was in my hand—a whip, a club, something—and I was using it to beat a dark creature curled up on the floor. A dog, or a boy, I wasn’t sure which. He kept trying to crawl away, but he was tied to my leg with a long red ribbon. And I was beating him and screaming that he was mine. Mine. Mine.
Things didn’t get a whole lot more normal when I woke up. Because somehow, on a couch that had barely been big enough when Baby Mountain was a molehill, I had company.
My first instinct was to shove him off, but it didn’t work. I sat up, disoriented in the dark living room, and explored the area with my hands. There
