A door slammed shut in the house.

Nenye opened her eyes and flinched at the sight of the darkened room. Two pairs of eyes peeked at her from the foot of her bed, but she averted her gaze, staring instead at the ceiling.

Her head felt funny. Full. Like someone had put a balloon in it and pumped it while she slept. How long had she been out for? The dim light coming from the window supplied an answer: too long.

She glanced at the foot of her bed. Her unwanted visitors had vanished.

Slowly—in order not to hurt herself—she put one tentative foot down. It was cool. The floor, that is. It was cool today. Which was good. She didn't like the days when it burned.

She dropped her second foot and stumbled out of bed. Her slippers were around here somewhere, but she could search later for them. Mom had returned, and she'd probably like it if Nenye popped out to say hi.

Chachi would have come to find her first though.

The corridor was well lit, but Nenye hugged the wall as she walked. The ambient temperature seeped into her bones. It did nothing to ease her headache, and maybe she should have just kept sleeping. But the distance to the kitchen was a short one. Mom pattered about somewhere in the room.

Mom came into view, holding a phone up to her ear. She’d tied her locs into a short bun and busied herself, packing groceries into the top cabinets. She looked pretty in her long jacket and dress pants. But her face wasn’t as pretty, not with her eyebrows drawn into ridges. She didn't seem to be enjoying her conversation.

“No, sir,” mom said. “I do not appreciate your meaning.” She paused as the person on the other end of the line responded. “Yes, I understand her case fascinates you, but I will not let her become some guinea pig at your facility!”

A can of malted milk powder rolled out of the grocery bag. Mom retrieved it and slammed it on the counter.

Nenye winced. The bloat in her skull increased.

“Yes, I get it,” mom rasped, through gritted teeth. “Her prognosis is poor. However, I must refuse your offer, Dr. Williams. We won't be consenting to any uncertified treatments.”

Dr. Williams. That was the man who worked at the hospital. The one who recommended tests and talked about her lobes and stuff. Nenye didn't like him. Or that place, for that matter. She had been good for years. Why did she need to go out? Mom didn't need to make her feel more miserable than she already did.

“If that is all, Doctor,” mom said, “I need to prepare dinner for my family.” She cut the call before getting a response.

Mom sighed, leaning against the gas cooker. Her eyelids lowered, and her shoulders trembled beneath her jacket. She opened her eyes . . .

“My gosh,” mom said, nearly jumping out of her skin. “Nenye? You scared me.”

Nenye turned to the wall and rested her throbbing head against it.

“My baby,” mom said, grinning down at her. “How are you today? Is there something you need?”

Nenye looked at her feet. Why had she come out again?

“I bet you are hungry,” mom said, tousling her hair. “We're having fish soup tonight. Is that okay? I’ll make sure to properly debone them.”

It wasn’t okay. Nenye didn't like fish or the soups made out of them. They tasted like slimy rubber.

Mom smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. She always did that, whenever Nenye failed to respond.

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She should say something. Anything to get mom truly smiling again.

Nenye parted her lips and shut them. Pain blossomed behind her right eye. Her head pounded like someone played the bass drum within it. With a hammer. Because mallets weren’t this bad.

Mom’s expression dipped. “Why don't you get the TV, dear? You can relax and watch your favorite show. I'll be done before you know it.”

But Nenye didn't want to watch cartoons. She wanted to share her thoughts. About her day. And her headache. And how tired she felt. But the words didn't come. She closed her eyes.

“I . . . I . . .”

Mom grabbed her hand. “You'll need to give me some space so I can work, dear. Let's get you seated. How does tea sound? Is that fine? No biscuits though. I don’t want you ruining your appetite.”

Nenye ducked her head, ears burning.

Mom helped her to the couch and placed the remote in her hands. The big, red button was familiar, the others not so much. Which one adjusted the volume again? She was sure she’d mastered them yesterday. What about the one that caused stuff to pause?

Nenye hit the red button, and the TV came on, tuned to a newscasting station. Dark shapes emerged from the walls near the television, turning huge eyeballs toward the screen. They floated a few feet off the ground, contorting in all kinds of shapes and angles. Nenye squinted against the throbbing.

The station broadcasted a recording of some kind of event. The newscaster said her piece, and the screen shifted to an outdoor venue where a man in a costume delivered an address.

“Oh, the superheroes?” mom said, reappearing with a bottle of tea. Her face darkened. “What’s this? An unveiling? Aren’t they satisfied after the damage they caused in Sagidi?” She placed the bottle—complete with its nursing cap—on a stool beside Nenye and reached for the remote.

Nenye held on to it.

Mom raised an eyebrow. “What? You don’t want to watch your shows today?”

Nenye shook her head.

Mom sighed, then took notice of her bare feet. “Where did you keep your slippers, young lady?”

But Nenye wasn’t listening. She recognized the next man to take the stage: a hulking brute, dressed in fur and dog stuff, who held a spear tightly in his grip. Where did she know him from? She was almost certain she'd seen him before . . . Oh.

He was the one. The one who had attacked big brother right in their home.

“Rah . . . Rahbi . . .” she muttered. “Rah.”

Mom’s lips quirked into a frown. “What are you saying?” She shook her head. “I’m going to change. Get started on dinner. Try not to spill your drink, okay? I’ll check on you in case you need anything else.”

More Heroes climbed onto the stage. A pretty girl in white and green. A yellow-haired boy in purple. Chachi wasn’t among them. But he had to be. He wasn’t as good a liar as he thought. She knew her brother had gone off to fight with the scary people, but save for the phone calls he shared with mom, she had no idea how he was doing.

The dark shapes around the TV disappeared. They always did that if she ignored them hard enough. One of them stayed behind, however. A greyish blob, noticeably different from the others. It lacked the typical eyeballs and eel-like shape that defined the rest. It hovered above the television, crawling slowly upward then downward.

Nenye abandoned her chair.

Mom clanked around the kitchen, so she shuffled past and entered Chachi’s room. Her brother had always been tidy, but the room was sterile now that he was gone. She crawled into his bed and lay there, not bothering with the blankie. Her head threatened to burst. She closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment to breathe.

She woke a second later. The dark shapes surrounded every inch of the room, oozing out of the floor and the ceiling, and the sides of the walls. Thousands of eyeballs peeked at her, all variations of the same hideous design. Their owners swished across the air like grainy images playing on a muted TV.

Some of the bolder ones swooped in to touch her. Cold hands, slimy like mom’s fish, trailed up her leg. They caressed her feet and ankles, and she shivered, fixing her gaze on an empty corner of the ceiling.

Mom threw the door open. “Oh my gosh, Nenye. I’ve been calling for you. What are you doing here?”

Nenye whimpered, huddling in on herself.

“Oh, come on,” mom said, moving to her side. “That’s enough sleep for you. You can continue later.” She grabbed Nenye by the arm and coaxed her to her feet. “I’ve dished a nice warm bowl of soup for you. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. The doctors want you to follow a nutrition plan. We can’t have you looking this skinny when your classes finally start.”

Nenye placed her feet on the ground.

Mom nodded in approval. “Oh, you found your slippers? That’s good, dear. But please, don’t wear them to bed again. I’m sure I told you this before.”

Nenye hadn’t found her slippers though, yet there they were, clear as day on her feet. She stared at the bright-colored footwear. They stared back at her.

Mom ushered her out of Chachi’s room, muttering a stream of things all at once. She helped her into the dining table and fastened a bib around her neck.

The fish was exactly as slimy as Nenye had anticipated, but she ate it anyway if only so she could return to bed sooner. Soup splattered all over her clothes, much to mom’s chagrin, until finally, mom got up to feed her herself.

The grey blob floated in the living room, pulsing in time with the clock.

It spoke.