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I hadn’t even met him then.”

It took Michael a moment to comprehend the information. “So, who is he, Josie?”

“I’d like to know that, too,” Damien added.

Josie wasn’t sure how to explain but she couldn’t keep hiding it, they had both seen her with him, there was no sense in lying. Taking a deep breath, she began, “It’s hard to explain, I don’t even really understand it myself but he’s the guy who brought the music box, and caught me in the mall when I fainted, and was talking to me the next day at the office supply store.”

Michael’s face did little to hide his shock. “Wait, what? The stalker? This guy is the stalker. And you met with him… alone… in a motel room. Josie, are you crazy?”

“No, I’m not crazy,” Josie said, her voice becoming heated again. “He said he could help, and I needed help.”

“What about Dr. Reed? Is this guy the one who sent that other quack?” Michael asked.

“Millie is not a quack,” Josie defended her.

“Millie? Do you know her?” Michael asked.

“Yes, no, I don’t know, it’s all so confusing,” Josie said, burying her head in her hands.

“He’s really been helping you, I see,” Michael said, rolling his eyes.

Josie, overwhelmed and upset by the conversation unfolding, squeezed her lips together trying to determine a way to explain it that made sense. But she wasn’t sure she even could make sense of it.

“So, has he cured you, Josie? Has he told you why you’re having those strange dreams? What they all mean?” Michael continued.

“No,” Josie said, fighting back tears.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect so. Let me guess, he told you he had all the answers. He could help you, he could make you whole again. And let me keep going with my guess here, next he failed to give you any actual information. Am I right so far?” Josie didn’t respond. “Then he told you he could send a doctor to help you. A doctor who probably put stuff in your head that he was this nice guy whom you could trust. This guy is crazy, Josie, crazy. I don’t know what his end game is, but this ends now.” Michael started up the steps.

“Where are you going?” Josie asked, surprised that he was walking out of an argument. Michael never left an argument until it was settled, usually in his own favor.

“To get rid of the thing that started this mess.”

“What?” Josie followed him, Damien trailing behind them both.

“That damn music box,” he said, bursting into her room and making a beeline to it. “This thing started all this trouble, and it needs to be out of this house now.”

“What? No!” Josie shouted. “Give that to me!” She reached for the music box, now in Michael’s hands.

He pulled it away from her. “No, Josie. This thing started all this madness.”

“Give it back, Michael. I was having nightmares long before that.”

“But you weren’t meeting with stalkers in motels before it came. You act weird every time you’re around this thing,” he said, moving it overhead out of her reach and trying to skirt around her to the door.

“GIVE IT TO ME!” Josie shouted, jumping for it. She grabbed hold of it and the two struggled for a moment before Josie lost her grip. She tumbled backwards, flailing to regain her balance but losing that battle. She smacked her head hard on the footboard of her bed before collapsing to the floor. The impact was enough to knock her unconscious for a few moments.

“JOSIE!” Damien called, rushing to her side. Michael dropped the music box, also racing to her side. It clattered to the floor, landing on its side and open. Tinkling music filled the air as the two gathered around Josie’s slack form.

Michael held her hand, checking her wrist for a pulse. “Her pulse is okay,” he choked out. “Josie, Josie, wake up,” he said, patting her hand.

“Breathing looks okay, I don’t see any blood where she hit her head,” Damien said. “Jos, hey, Jos, wake up.” He patted her cheek.

“Should we call an ambulance?”

Before Damien could answer, Josie began to moan a little, knitting her eyebrows and moving her head. “Wait, here we go, maybe she’s coming to,” Damien responded. “Josie, Josie, that’s it, it’s time to wake up now.”

Josie’s eyes fluttered open, staring straight at the ceiling. “Josie? Josie, are you okay?” Damien asked.

Josie did not respond, she continued to stare at the ceiling. She blinked a few times then clutched her head with both hands, covering her eyes. She moaned as though in pain.

Michael and Damien exchanged glances. “I think we had better get her to the ER,” Michael said, swallowing hard. Damien nodded in agreement.

Josie began to sit up. “Whoa, whoa, Josie, easy, you took a nasty spill and hit your head. You should lie still,” Damien said.

“I feel sick,” she whimpered. “My head, it hurts so much.” Waves of nausea passed over Josie and the pain in her head screamed across her temples. She was deathly pale. Her breathing became ragged and her vision was closing to a pinpoint. Blood rushed through her ears and her hands began to tremble.

“Yeah, you hit your head pretty hard, just take it easy, we’re going to take you to the ER,” Damien said, looking to Michael, unsure of what to do. Damien was never good in a crisis.

“Here, I’ll carry her to the car,” Michael said, putting his arm under her knees and around her shoulders. As he did, Josie shrieked in pain then went slack, losing consciousness again. “She passed out. I’m going to lay her back down. Perhaps we should call an ambulance.”

“Maybe,” Damien said, not sure what to do. He was distraught at seeing Josie this way, his hands shaking.

Michael stood, opening his phone to make the emergency call. “Wait, she’s coming around again,” Damien exclaimed.

Josie’s eyes shot open, and she bolted upright. She glanced around the room as though she had never seen it before and was getting her bearings. Her breathing appeared

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