I can hear Momma Lorraine's voice, but it's coming to me as if over a weak radio signal. I manage to open my eyes and am shocked to find that I'm lying on the floor with my head on her lap! She's talking again but I can't hear everything she's saying. Breathe deeply, she says. Don't fight, she says.
It feels like I'm dying! How can I not fight?
Then she's gone and I'm being lowered into a crude coffin and the lid nailed shut. My heartbeat is a weak flutter in my chest; a dying bird in a box.