BURN THE GIRLS - Chapter 4

Constance sat on the edge of her bed, holding her head in both hands. Eyes down, she watched the early morning sun’s rays illuminate the bedding crumpled around her.

That was the worst night of sleep I’ve ever had.

She suspected her head injury as the prime culprit with the odd events of the day as a supporting cast. Images from her dream spun in the soup of her morning thoughts.

That dream was insanely vivid and disturbing.

Constance ran through the dream in her head. The walk to the cemetery, the moon dominating the sky, the mud and grime—finding her mother in the casket. She felt her stomach roll as bile pressed dangerously upward from her gut.

Shaking the disturbing image from her mind, Constance rose to her feet and stretched, pressing her hands toward the ceiling. The bump on her head throbbed with her heartbeat. She dropped her arms and went to her closet. Staring blankly at the few outfits hanging there, she chose a pair of bell bottom pants and a chiffon blouse. She changed her clothes in silence at the foot of her bed.