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to the kitchen using walls
and doorknobs to help steady myself.
    I turned the lights on as I went. I popped
three Tylenol and swallowed them with a glass of water.
    “Hey, Kris.” My little brother Dante walked
in.
    I hate that name but my family has no regard
for my feelings and insists it’s a fine nickname. I have no desire
to be referred to by a boy's name.
    “Hey.” His not-quite-six-foot-three frame
towered over me when he gave me his characteristic sideways hug,
not quite touching me with anything but his hand and his side, like
he was afraid to catch something.
    “Headache?” he asked, his way of
sympathizing.
    I nodded and wished I hadn’t. My brain felt
like it was rattling around in my skull. I pressed the heels of my
hands to my eyes and rested my elbows on the counter until the
throbbing felt less like my brain would explode.
    “You alright?” Dante asked. I wasn’t sure if
he was uncertain of what to do or ready to run for the phone in
case I needed an ambulance.
    “No,” I answered him, and he waited. “I’ll
be fine.” I picked my head up and offered something that was
supposed to be a smile, but his concerned frown proved that I
hadn’t quite made it.
    I waved a dismissive hand at him and crossed
to my favorite spot at the breakfast table. Then I realized the
blinds were open. The extra effort of standing actually made my
head begin to throb again, but I closed the blinds anyway,
explaining to my brother, “I had a panic attack today. Don’t know
why. Don’t think I’ve ever actually had one before, either. It had
a bad effect on my brain.” I purposefully left out the crazy vision
thing. He would be way too interested in that for his own good. I
finally took a seat and lowered my head back into my hands.
    “You want me to rub your shoulders?” he
asked.
    “Sure,” I agreed. The massage felt good, but
it only seemed to aggravate an already painful situation, and I had
to make him stop. “Thanks for trying. I’m just going to try to go
back to bed,” but that was honestly the last thing I wanted. I went
back to my room anyway, but I left the lamp on, lying down in the
bed next to my dog and curling up on my side.
    “What’s wrong with me, pup?” I stroked my
dog’s head, combing his long, fluffy fur away from his eyes so I
could see them. He rolled over onto his back so I could scratch his
belly, and I appeased him. Slowly, so slowly that I didn’t even
notice it was happening, I began to drift into sleep.
     
    I was looking at myself in an ornate, gothic
style mirror. The black framing made the paleness of my skin stand
out.
    Lucretious. That one name brought with it
the realization that I wasn’t looking at myself. I was looking at
him through his eyes, and as soon as I realized it, I knew he could
feel me there inside his head. He didn’t say anything, he seemed to
already know I was there, but he leaned into the mirror and
growled. A tingle ran up my arms and spine to the base of my neck.
I shuddered and my head ticked to the side and he was gone.
     
    I woke up a little while later to Bermides
pawing and whining at the bedroom door.
    “Stop,” I said sternly and rubbed my neck.
He stopped long enough to come around to the side of the bed and
put his furry little front feet up there to lick my arm. “Quit.” I
bumped him in the nose just hard enough to make him get down. The
stupid mutt went back to pawing at the door until I had no choice
but to get up. My headache had subsided some and I looked at my
cell phone. Only twelve thirty.
    Damn.
    I let him out and followed him to the door
of the back porch.
    “Shh! People are asleep!” I told him, but he
wouldn’t listen. I opened the door quickly, so he wouldn’t wake
anyone, and he ran onto the patio. The bark that he let out was
loud and I jumped and smacked him on the backside before I could
stop myself. “Shut up!” I hooked the leash on him as fast as I
could and opened the door. I realized I’d forgotten to