Her chest hurts, and her knees.
The Tylenol isn't really cutting it. She had to make sure that Kendra was in the bathroom before she risked climbing the stairs. It wouldn't do to show off exactly how shaky she is.
Here's a nice thought to keep you up all night, Bina–what if the Botfly is watching everything you do through your spooky hand?
"Good night Bina!" calls Kendra, from down the hall.
Bina hears claws clicking on the the hardwood floor, and then, after a scrabbly moment of awkward shifting, feels the soft weight of Piotyr settle against her legs.
She thinks that she probably shouldn't be letting the dog sleep on the bed, but Bina doesn't care. Not tonight. She's glad of the company.
"Good night," she says, to Kendra all the way down at the end of the hall, to the dog beside her who may be dead, to the thing that may or may not be watching her from the palm of her hand, and to the longest second in history of the world.
"Good night," she says, and sleeps.