Excerpt
I shook my head trying desperately to wake from my fog. The spinning room was blurry and my head felt hazy. An image of Rose in her funeral garb was etched into my brain. Her tiny face haunted my confused thoughts. What was Rose doing in my dream, and what was she trying to tell me? The clock read three a.m.--just like the night before. Hmm, the witching hour I thought. I remembered that from a horror movie Madison and I watched together late one night in her bedroom. An unsuspecting teen met her demise at precisely three a.m.--the time witches and demons haunt their victims. Was Rose haunting me? Seriously freaked out, and too afraid to sleep by myself, I took Mom's prior advice and headed towards the twin's crowded room. I tugged on the lower portion of Ashley's trundle bed until it opened. I dove into to the icy, pink satin sheets praying for sleep.