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my jaw was locked and clenched so hard my teeth hurt. It wasn’t until the young woman stood straight to look at her companions that relief flooded me. My muscles were still tensed, but I could move. I cried out at the same time, the pain releasing with it.
    They were hovering over me, all around. Dozens of red eyes gauged me with either hostility or mad glee.
    I tried to stand, my limbs feeling weak and encumbered all at the same time. Falling onto my back, I focused on the ceiling, trying to think in the small aching stillness.
    A white stucco-like ceiling arched upward and was stained yellow in patchy cigarette residue.
    Before I could focus again, my body convulsed with a burning, internal laceration. It took me a second to notice the ghost kneeling over me, arms lodged elbows-deep in my guts. Shrieking, I curled up to try and push him away. Didn’t people pass out from pain? Why wasn’t I blacking out? Please, let me pass out , I thought through blinding tears.
    Pulling his hands free, the ghost flung his hands as if ridding his fingers of grime and looked back to the others.
    Instant relief flooded through me; I was aching, but it was not nearly as bad as the knife that seared me each time they touched me.
    Get up Nora, get up! No one is coming for you. They all left you .
    I rolled, or rather flopped, onto my stomach, using my hands to pull me along the hardwood.
    Ahead, I could see Phoebe; she had neared the edge of the ballroom unharmed with Read in tow. Just as she flung him to Joel, she turned to drive her way back into the crowd.
    Growing up, Phoebe was the kid no one wanted to fight. She took several Tae-Kwon-Do lessons or any form of karate that could keep her entertained. She also liked to practice on some of the bullies—which I suppose made her the bully from time to time. That was until she reached a high level and quit all together. “What’s the point?” I remembered her asking. “They say we can’t touch other people unless they throw the first punch, otherwise it’s jail time. I want to throw the first punch.”
    I saw the determination on her face wipe clean when that first punch swung straight through a man with the cane. Her mouth gaped as she collapsed to one knee, stunned. Another walked through her, then flew through her. It took three before she dropped, face first.
    Cody started towards Phoebe when Robin pulled him back with the help of Joel, who looked conflicted. He was poised to run into the crowd but didn’t budge; his eyes drifted from Phoebe to me, and then back to Phoebe.
    I could see Cody and Robin arguing, their expressions angry and their volume loud, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. They hadn’t interrupted the dance floor, and no ghost paid the four of them any attention.
    Phoebe raised her head, her forest green eyes meeting mine. Raising a shaking hand, she pointed to the far wall, behind the violinist.
    I turned my head; the swelling ache within me began to subside.
    Behind the violinist, who watched the chaos with bright red eyes, was a door, a red door.
    “The door!” I shouted. My voice screeched like an alley-cat’s.
    Joel heard me first and followed my pointed finger to see it.
    Managing to get to my hands and knees, I crawled toward Phoebe as Joel bolted for the door, careful to stay outside of the dance floor.
    Robin tugged at Cody, who stared at Phoebe and me helplessly.
    “Go!” I urged, crawling faster towards the blonde body. Don’t let her be dead this time. Not for real.
    As I drew closer, a metaphysical hand tugged at my hair. Peeking back, I saw the woman reaching for my head, though she couldn’t seem to grab my hair, which appeared to frustrate her. Huffing, she reeled back and slammed that same hand into my head. At first, I was blinded, and panicked. I touched my face, and the world eased itself back together, bit by bit, color by color.
    You cannot get her, a woman’s voice whispered.
    It sounded from everywhere.
    Eyes focusing, in