After I (35) confronted my mother (55) about her abuse of me, I went no contact with her. Shortly after, her husband died under suspicious circumstances.
Her husband was a little over 20 years older than her and had dementia and alzheimer's. I had talked her into getting a home health nurse several times to help provide care because it was very obvious that she was not. She inevitability came up with reasons to fire each one and she made a big deal out of it every time. Without the care he needed, her husband continued to deteriorate and I wound up reporting for elder abuse, but nothing ever came of it. I really, really regret not pushing harder.
I had a sit-down with her a couple of years ago to talk about all the medical abuse she put me through as a child and an adult and confronted her about munchausen and munchausen by proxy. It went about as well as one would expect and she became super dodgy and passive aggressive with me after that, but maintained communication. However, it got to a point where I no longer found the relationship worth maintaining and went no-contact. After that, things escalated extremely quickly and very severely with her committing several state and federal crimes in attempt to get back at me for cutting contact with her. I have since moved (no one knows my address), do not own a phone, and have no contact with any members of either side of my family.
During the time she was escalating her lashing out and while I was moving, her husband died, and I know that she killed him. He had one of the most storied lives that I'd ever heard and his obituary is two sentence long. This is it, in it's entirety, with identifiers changed: "John Doe, age, passed away on Day, Month Date, Year. He was born on Month Date, Year, to Jack and Jill Smith in City, STATE. John is survived by his wife My Mom." He was cremated, which was against his wishes, and there was no funeral service or memorial. There are also things like how he had money set aside for donations that didn't get donated but that's not the point.
The last time I saw my mom's husband, I was at her house. He was wearing clothes that were extremely dirty and way too big on him due to weight loss. His hair and beard were unkempt where he used to always shave and get haircuts. It was also very clear that he hadn't been bathed in a very long time like on the scale of months. My mom and her roommate were constantly getting on to him for his pants falling down (talking about how they didn't want to see his body and how gross it was) or dropping cigarette ash/food crumbs on himself and making too much noise. It's like they were watching him just to catch him doing something they didn't like so they could scold him about it. I noticed that he didn't speak at all while I was there beyond a mumbled greeting when I came in. At one point I went to the bathroom and there was poop all over the toilet and sink and around that whole general area. I went to grab cleaning supplies hoping my mom wouldn't notice but she did. She all but physically rubbed his face in it like a shitty dog owner trying to housebreak a puppy. She was angrily chiding and shaming him like he did it on purpose to make her life even harder taking care of him. I left and went to the nearest health and senior services center and again reported what happened and what I saw and made several follow up calls, but I don't know if they ever even did anything.
On the outside, she presented herself as loving her husband and that she was a warrior sticking by the side of and taking on the care of someone with dementia and alzheimer's. Her whole thing was that she wasn't going to be like other people that put their loved ones in care facilities when things get tough. She's better than that.
I don't know if she did some of the same things to him as she did to me like the poisoning and inducing illness, but it's beyond clear that she neglected and berated him and got pleasure from seeing him deteriorate. I'm not entirely sure what happened with the exact circumstances of his death, but he was so frail from the abuse at that point that I assume either her or her and her roommate went too far with some sort of torture while they were all keyed up from doing shit to me that she/they wound up killing him either accidentally or intentionally. I didn't witness the act, but I know that she killed him.
One of the details that's always stuck out to me as strange is that, months after his death, my partner got a text from my mom telling them to pass on the message 'I thought you should know that "John" died'. No further information, no details, just 'my husband died'.
This has been weighing on me because I could have done more to stop it. I knew she was abusing her husband and I didn't get him out of there. I'm not saying this so someone can give me a hug and tell me I tried, I say it because I genuinely don't know why I didn't do more. I don't like the psychological implications there. I'm terrified of becoming something like her. My mom killed her husband, but I feel like I let it happen. I feel an immense amount of guilt but I also recognize that my mother is a monster and is the one that perpetrated these acts. It's a lot of complicated feelings and they're all bad. I almost feel ashamed of how much I let the trauma I carry from a life lived with her control me, because she at least never successfully killed me. I don't know. I don't know what to do with this.

Please feel free to correct me if any details are wrong. I literally whipped this up at work this morning. Also worth noting, some info was featured on the "extra footage" episode of the reunion on Peacock, the Call Her Daddy podcast Ariana was on, WWHL and VPR episodes. And lastly, anytime "Tom" is used, assume I'm talking about Sandoval.
Edit: watching again for the 3rd time and added a couple dates I missed and made a couple corrections.
Dec 2021 - James and Raquel call off their engagement.
Beginning of 2022 - Tom tells Andy during 1:1 this is around the time he starts having feelings for Raquel. 🧐 🤨
Mid April (at Coachella) – Allegedly, Tom tells Raquel that he and Ariana are in an open relationship. Raquel tells others, and it gets back to Scheana, who tells us this at the reunion. Rumors start swirling that Raquel and “Tom” were seen kissing at Coachella. It’s assumed to be Schwartz, but little did we know. 😠
Sometime in July – Schwartz tells us at the reunion Tom confided to him that he and Ariana are having problems. He's setting the narrative.
Aug 2 – Ariana’s Dog Charlotte passes away :(
Aug 3 – Guys night at the Mondrian hotel. Raquel and Charlie show up after leaving the girls trip.
Aug 4 – Schwartz tells us at the reunion that Tom told him he confided into Raquel about his relationship problems with Ariana and they had an "intimate moment”.
Aug 9 - After filming wrapped at “C-U-N-Tuesday” a bunch went to the Abby and that’s the night they had sex. Tom tells Andy this during his 1:1.
Aug 13 - Tom and Ariana host a pool party where Tom defends Raquel against Lala
Aug 23 – Scheana’s wedding in Mexico (Schwartz and Raquel kissed) Tom caught in footage smacking Raquel’s ass. There are rumors Tom and Raquel were seen making out in the hotel.
Aug 31 – Schwartz tells us at the reunion that’s when he finds out about the “one night stand” between Tom and Raquel. Says Tom blamed alcohol and it absolutely won’t happen again.
Sept 2 – Lala’s birthday – Katie tells Tom that Ally saw him and Raquel at the Abby “enjoying” each other.
Sept 5 – Ariana’s Grandmother dies (according to the obituary)
Sept 5 – Labor Day cook out in LA, Raquel is also in attendance. Tom says he “couldn’t get a Lyft” back home to Ariana while others confirmed Lyfts and Ubers were in and out of there all day long.
Sept 12 – Raquel’s B-day, she buys the Lightning Bolt necklace for herself around this time. Also Glamping trip. This is also when Schwartz confirmed at the reunion he was including Tom when he mentioned Raquel having a type of going after men that are taken.
Sept 16-18 Life is Beautiful festival in Las Vegas – Pictures shown of Raquel on Tom’s shoulders. Tom tells Andy at the reunion this is when the affair “amped up”. (Ariana was in attendance.)
Sept 19 - Raquel’s Instagram post from life is beautiful featuring her wearing the lightning bolt necklace. Captioned “It’s giving Harley Quinn falls in love with the joker vibes ⚡️”
Sept 24 – Ariana’s Grandmoms funeral. Ariana flies to Florida twice this month to be with family. Unclear what those dates were.
Sept - While Ariana is home in FL, Ken Todd drops the mother of all gossip bombs. “I can’t believe, that Tom Zandaville had Raquel, over, when Ariana’s away, in the ju… jacuzzi as well. AND SHE STAYED ALL NIGHT, YEAH?!”
Sept sometime - Tom tells show runner in unaired footage that he feels guilty he’s not sharing his issues on the show and thought it was unfair to the rest of the cast. Again, laying the groundwork.
Oct 14-16 Bravocon – Raquel shows up in TomTom hoodie. Schwartz tells Katie that Raquel isn’t there for him. 👀
Oct 31 – Tom dresses up as Raquel for Halloween
December – Tom takes Raquel home to STL for Christmas.
January - Scheana says she has a convo with Ariana and she said she and Tom are in a good place. Communication and intimacy were good.
January 2023 – Big Bear trip with Schwartz, Jo, Tom, and Raquel – Ariana was not invited. Schwartz claimed he did not know about the affair at this time.
“Mid/late Jan” – Tom tells us at the reunion that’s when he told Schwartz about the affair. Neither can get their stories straight however.
Feb 8 – Both Toms on WWHL. Schwartz is extremely nervous. Tom acts very composed and laid back. (Meanwhile, Raquel is in their hotel room based on info Ariana shared on the CHD podcast)
Feb 14 – Valentine’s Day, Ariana and Tom go to V-day dinner, Tom gifts her flowers. Fight all night about their relationship. (Details provided by Ariana on CHD podcast)
Feb 28- Tom records him and Raquel fapping to each other on Facetime at Schwartz’s apartment.
Mar 1 – Scheana & Raquel are guests on WWHL. Raquel calls Sandoval the “hotter Tom”. Ariana finds out about affair by looking in Tom’s phone in a bathroom stall at Tom Tom restaurant.
Mar 2 – Affair made public by TMZ.

We always hear that NJ is so expensive (it is - no doubting that), but when you look at some areas in central NJ, home prices are much less expensive than the PA towns across the river. In a lot of cases, the taxes are similar too.
Any idea what the reason is?
EDIT: Referring to the Trenton suburbs. Should have been more clear.

Alone at college, I was unprepared to live alone - with loneliness. It was the thought of arriving in my apartment and walking through that silence to turn on lights and put something on tv - that depressed me. Some instinct to obtain a companion made me turn into the animal shelter. I adopted Miss Marvel, a rescued black cat.
Strange and unusual feelings were the first thing I noticed. I'd never had a pet before - so I attributed my sensation to her presence. There was one thought that I should have accepted. I did notice right away that Miss Marvel had two different personalities. Sometimes she was my friend, taking treats and letting me pet her and sleeping next to me. Other times she was like a pair of eyes in the shadows - watching me and making me feel menaced and hunted.
She had known her way around the apartment from the first moment I had opened her carrier. She went to a spot in the kitchen that was perfect for where I would put her food and water. If I squinted I could almost see where someone had kept two bowls on the floor, slightly cleaner where the floor was covered. The exact same spot.
I tried to meet her in her shadow realm but she made warning noises and even swatted at me, drawing a drop of blood. When I had rinsed it I heard her licking where the drop had spilled. I shuddered, wondering again if I had two different cats.
Other than that: I found her companionship to be the best that I could have. She was a lovely cat, purring and playful and responsive to my call. I didn't suspect her of the darkness that began to manifest in my home. Not her, yet it was all from her. I knew somehow that it was not right, my cat wasn't responsible.
My homework was shredded, things got broken and my plants wilted. The smell of ammonia became overwhelming and I'd have to leave my windows open. The swarm of flying insects swirling in my living room must have come in through the open window. It's how they went back out: all-at-once.
Then my own behavior began to change. I found myself waking up in strange places and missing time. I worried I might be losing my mind, until I noticed there was a pattern to my activities. Every time I slipped away I always came back with Miss Marvel sitting near me and staring intensely. She would hiss and run off when the spell wore off and I would think to myself:
"Is she somehow controlling me?"
After this had occurred a number of times I felt her power growing stronger. Miss Marvel would become the witch cat and mesmerize me and control me like a puppet. I filmed it with my webcam, but the recording wouldn't open. I took it to a college friend who worked in the campus IT and they said the file couldn't be repaired, because it wasn't broken. It had filmed just one frame and the software had interpreted it as a non-video file. They showed it to me, just one image of a weird star made out of triangles with a peculiar questionmark-like symbol emblazoned over it.
My investigations took me to the animal shelter. I determined that my cat was using witchcraft - entirely by my own instinct. I've always believed in witchcraft, found myself attracted to witches and living a charmed life. My involvement with Miss Marvel seemed to be part of my lifestory already. That didn't mean I wasn't frightened.
Knowing I was dealing with witchcraft of some insidious alignment made me afraid. I felt powerless to deal with her and I knew I couldn't escape. I felt drawn to my home, despite the horror I felt at opening that door.
The shelter had, after I convinced them, told me the address where Miss Marvel had come from. She'd belonged to on old woman who had lived alone and died mysteriously. The address was my own. Miss Marvel had lived in my apartment before.
I called my brother and convinced him to look into the police report. He told me he'd have to get back to me with it. When he came over he apologized for not coming over earlier, like when I had started college. Or at any point since.
"You're here now. That's what I need." I told him.
He stopped apologizing for neglecting me and told me what the police report had contained.
"It started as a wellness check that went into a possible homicide. Later it was ruled as a possible suicide and finally as a natural death of unknown cause."
"What does that even mean?" I felt the eyes of Miss Marvel, watching - her ears, listening. I looked around and saw her nowhere.
"The lady who lived here - she had died of fear. Screamed until her lungs boiled and collapsed and hit her head. It looked bad, but she got scared of something and then died. That's what happened." He explained.
After my brother was gone, I reflected that his career had made him so calloused. I remembered him different growing up. Miss Marvel found me sitting and thinking and she was my cat, so she came to me and loved on me.
The next morning, I was sipping tea, when I remembered a spell someone had shown me. It was a gesture and some magic words, a cheap charm, that would reveal the hidden nature of someone or something.
How did it go?
I spoke the rhyme and focused my intention on the syntax, while looking at my cat through the corner of my eye, between the 'window' of my pinky and pointer finger - while my other two fingertips were holding my thumb. Nothing happened. I didn't give up, because I know that magic rarely works without increasing one's efforts. I'd never cast a spell before, but I knew this from what I was told. I tried the charm again and again. Early in the evening, while she was eating and the sun was setting, my spell worked.
I could see the witch standing beside my cat, the horrible open mouth looking both dead and violent at the same time. She could see me too, knew that I knew. The eyes of the creature burned with hatred, my reflection a pyre light. I put my hand down and looked away. When I looked back I felt a cold shiver, fear in my spine, knowing she was standing there unseen.
My cat stopped eating suddenly and turned and faced me, staring with far more intensity than my cat. I knew it was the witch and not her. I knew it was up to me to figure out what to do. My only problem was that I was too afraid.
I had nightmares from that night on. I'd sometimes wake up somewhere else in my home, turning butter into ashes on my stove. I would be drawing symbols on the floor in ash. I was trying to do something when she had control over me. I kept breaking free of her control before she could make any progress. At the same time - every time she got ahold of me she seemed to hold me longer and do more. She was getting stronger and I was getting weaker.
I had to know what the old witch was trying to do. There was nothing else that I could do to free myself and Miss Marvel from her power. Moving or getting rid of the cat seemed impossible. Perhaps I could have tried one of those things, but the weight of such ideas felt like I was falling to even consider those options.
Instead, I did my homework. I found out who she was, a rotary and well-known occult bookstore owner. Her obituary mentioned that there was a guest registry at her funeral. At the local library I was able to find out who held the registry. I called on them and they allowed me to look at it. They even told me that most of the guests were members of her coven, a large group of witches that had practiced together.
"I just want to know about her life. All I know is about her death. It isn't how she should be remembered?" Were my exact words to them. They were convinced I should be loaned her diary. Nobody had taken the time to read it, but it was kept with the spellbook and the registry. Of her spellbook I was given no permissions.
I sat there and read her diary and discovered she had her own agenda within the coven. Some sort of personal spirit guide of her's was to manifest for her. When I described the creature to them, they told me I had misunderstood.
"Maroni is an ancient and powerful demon that grants eternal life. There is a bargain though, the use of a body for the demon, in such a consortment. No witch would fall prey to such a well-known scam."
Yet she had made a deal with it and learned of a dangerous spell to summon Maroni. It involved writing with ash and speaking the contract in the demon's own language. I guessed that the witch had tried and met the demon and died of terror.
Somehow, she could inhabit her cat and channel her magic through Miss Marvel to control me. She was trying to complete the spell, probably so she could become alive and immortal. I felt pale and cold with fear as I realized I was her choice of bodies to live in.
Every night my dreams showed me the ritual in different times and places. Different people, religions, civilizations had all come and gone. Each had danced with the demon upon the ashes of its summoning. All of them had tried to bargain with it. Always the demon won, always it got what it wanted and gave nothing in return.
I was falling asleep in lectures and having visions or sightings of the tormented souls trapped by the demon's spell. Shamans and druids, priestesses and warlocks, all as ghosts in their ritual garb, dead for whole chapters of history and trapped in our world, unseen. I felt sick, my body trying to reject the infection in my spirit.
As I deteriorated there became less and less of a distinction between her control and mine. I felt myself slipping into the embrace of her power, somehow relieved to stop struggling and just give up. My fear became a constant anxiety, knowing what was happening and helpless to stop it.
"Now you will perform the ritual." The voice of the witch spoke to me from Miss Marvel, contorted and barely human-sounding.
I gathered what little of my willpower was left. I thought about the good times with Miss Marvel, when she was my cat. I wanted to break free, to somehow throw off the weight that was crushing me. I needed to begin, whenever I start something - I finish it.
"No." I said weakly. Then I felt my voice, felt my willpower backing me up, motivating me to resist. I added: "No - I said. I won't do it."
"You will. You have no choice." The witch promised.
I began to move, despite my resistance. I was under her control and aware of it. I felt her power over me slip even further. In a moment I regained control and swept the symbols of ash on the floor, ruining the summoning.
"You insolent dog!" The witch exclaimed. "I've used it all up! Damn you!"
And with that she was coughed out of Miss Marvel like some kind of hellspawned hairball. I stared at the lumpy and bubbling ectoplasma and felt a nauseating revulsion and the last of the terrified feelings I had lived with for so long.
My cat lifted the stringy dead thing and brought it to me and dropped it at my feet. She meowed with expectation and I lifted her and took her with me while she purred. I was very tired and fell asleep right away.
Of Miss Marvel I can only say we are happy together. Whatever got into her was long gone, having slithered up the wall and down the drain, leaving a trail of slime. I cleaned it up and relaxed.
Together, at college, I live happily with my marvelous cat, Miss Marvel.

Alone at college, I was unprepared to live alone - with loneliness. It was the thought of arriving in my apartment and walking through that silence to turn on lights and put something on tv - that depressed me. Some instinct to obtain a companion made me turn into the animal shelter. I adopted Miss Marvel, a rescued black cat.
Strange and unusual feelings were the first thing I noticed. I'd never had a pet before - so I attributed my sensation to her presence. There was one thought that I should have accepted. I did notice right away that Miss Marvel had two different personalities. Sometimes she was my friend, taking treats and letting me pet her and sleeping next to me. Other times she was like a pair of eyes in the shadows - watching me and making me feel menaced and hunted.
She had known her way around the apartment from the first moment I had opened her carrier. She went to a spot in the kitchen that was perfect for where I would put her food and water. If I squinted I could almost see where someone had kept two bowls on the floor, slightly cleaner where the floor was covered. The exact same spot.
I tried to meet her in her shadow realm but she made warning noises and even swatted at me, drawing a drop of blood. When I had rinsed it I heard her licking where the drop had spilled. I shuddered, wondering again if I had two different cats.
Other than that: I found her companionship to be the best that I could have. She was a lovely cat, purring and playful and responsive to my call. I didn't suspect her of the darkness that began to manifest in my home. Not her, yet it was all from her. I knew somehow that it was not right, my cat wasn't responsible.
My homework was shredded, things got broken and my plants wilted. The smell of ammonia became overwhelming and I'd have to leave my windows open. The swarm of flying insects swirling in my living room must have come in through the open window. It's how they went back out: all-at-once.
Then my own behavior began to change. I found myself waking up in strange places and missing time. I worried I might be losing my mind, until I noticed there was a pattern to my activities. Every time I slipped away I always came back with Miss Marvel sitting near me and staring intensely. She would hiss and run off when the spell wore off and I would think to myself:
"Is she somehow controlling me?"
After this had occurred a number of times I felt her power growing stronger. Miss Marvel would become the witch cat and mesmerize me and control me like a puppet. I filmed it with my webcam, but the recording wouldn't open. I took it to a college friend who worked in the campus IT and they said the file couldn't be repaired, because it wasn't broken. It had filmed just one frame and the software had interpreted it as a non-video file. They showed it to me, just one image of a weird star made out of triangles with a peculiar questionmark-like symbol emblazoned over it.
My investigations took me to the animal shelter. I determined that my cat was using witchcraft - entirely by my own instinct. I've always believed in witchcraft, found myself attracted to witches and living a charmed life. My involvement with Miss Marvel seemed to be part my lifestory already. That didn't mean I wasn't frightened.
Knowing I was dealing with witchcraft of some insidious alignment made me afraid. I felt powerless to deal with her and I knew I couldn't escape. I felt drawn to me home, despite the horror I felt at opening that door.
The shelter had, after I convinced them, to tell me the address where Miss Marvel had come from. She'd belonged to on old woman who had lived alone and died mysteriously. The address was my own. Miss Marvel had lived in my apartment before.
I called my brother and convinced him to look into the police report. He told me he'd have to get back to me with it. When he came over he apologized for not coming over earlier, like when I had started college. Or at any point since.
"You're here now. That's what I need." I told him.
He stopped apologizing for neglecting me and told me what the police report had contained.
"It started as a wellness check that went into a possible homicide. Later it was ruled as a possible suicide and finally as a natural death of unknown cause."
"What does that even mean?" I felt the eyes of Miss Marvel, watching - her ears, listening. I looked around and saw her nowhere.
"The lady who lived here - she had died of fear. Screamed until her lungs boiled and collapsed and hit her head. It looked bad, but she got scared of something and then died. That's what happened." He explained.
After my brother was gone, I reflected that his career had made him so calloused. I remembered him different growing up. Miss Marvel found me sitting and thinking and she was my cat, so she came to me and loved on me.
The next morning, I was sipping tea, when I remembered a spell someone had shown me. It was a gesture and some magic words, a cheap charm, that would reveal the hidden nature of someone or something.
How did it go?
I spoke the rhyme and focused my intention on the syntax, while looking at my cat through the corner of my eye, between the 'window' of my pinky and pointer finger - while my other two fingertips were holding my thumb. Nothing happened. I didn't give up, because I know that magic rarely works without increasing one's efforts. I'd never cast a spell before, but I knew this from what I was told. I tried the charm again and again. Early in the evening, while she was eating and the sun was setting, my spell worked.
I could see the witch standing beside my cat, the horrible open mouth looking both dead and violent at the same time. She could see me too, knew that I knew. The eyes of the creature burned with hatred, my reflection a pyre light. I put my hand down and looked away. When I looked back I felt a cold shiver, fear in my spine, knowing she was standing there unseen.
My cat stopped eating suddenly and turned and faced me, staring with far more intensity than my cat. I knew it was the witch and not her. I knew it was up to me to figure out what to do. My only problem was that I was too afraid.
I had nightmares from that night on. I'd sometimes wake up somewhere else in my home, turning butter into ashes on my stove. I would be drawing symbols on the floor in ash. I was trying to do something when she had control over me. I kept breaking free of her control before she could make any progress. At the same time - every time she got ahold of me she seemed to hold me longer and do more. She was getting stronger and I was getting weaker.
I had to know what the old witch was trying to do. There was nothing else that I could do to free myself and Miss Marvel from her power. Moving or getting rid of the cat seemed impossible. Perhaps I could have tried one of those things, but the weight of such ideas felt like I was falling to even consider those options.
Instead, I did my homework. I found out who she was, a rotary and well-known occult bookstore owner. Her obituary mentioned that there was a guest registry at her funeral. At the local library I was able to find out who held the registry. I called on them and they allowed me to look at it. They even told me that most of the guests were members of her coven, a large group of witches that had practiced together.
"I just want to know about her life. All I know is about her death. It isn't how she should be remembered?" Were my exact words to them. They were convinced I should be loaned her diary. Nobody had taken the time to read it, but it was kept with the spellbook and the registry. Of her spellbook I was given no permissions.
I sat there and read her diary and discovered she had her own agenda within the coven. Some sort of personal spirit guide of her's was to manifest for her. When I described the creature to them, they told me I had misunderstood.
"Maroni is an ancient and powerful demon that grants eternal life. There is a bargain though, the use of a body for the demon, in such a consortment. No witch would fall prey to such a well-known scam."
Yet she had made a deal with it and learned of a dangerous spell to summon Maroni. It involved writing with ash and speaking the contract in the demon's own language. I guessed that the witch had tried and met the demon and died of terror.
Somehow, she could inhabit her cat and channel her magic through Miss Marvel to control me. She was trying to complete the spell, probably so she could become alive and immortal. I felt pale and cold with fear as I realized I was her choice of bodies to live in.
Every night my dreams showed me the ritual in different times and places. Different people, religions, civilizations had all come and gone. Each had danced with the demon upon the ashes of its summoning. All of them had tried to bargain with it. Always the demon won, always it got what it wanted and gave nothing in return.
I was falling asleep in lectures and having visions or sightings of the tormented souls trapped by the demon's spell. Shamans and druids, priestesses and warlocks, all as ghosts in their ritual garb, dead for whole chapters of history and trapped in our world, unseen. I felt sick, my body trying to reject the infection in my spirit.
As I deteriorated there became less and less of a distinction between her control and mine. I felt myself slipping into the embrace of her power, somehow relieved to stop struggling and just give up. My fear became a constant anxiety, knowing what was happening and helpless to stop it.
"Now you will perform the ritual." The voice of the witch spoke to me from Miss Marvel, contorted and barely human-sounding.
I gathered what little of my willpower was left. I thought about the good times with Miss Marvel, when she was my cat. I wanted to break free, to somehow throw off the weight that was crushing me. I needed to begin, whenever I start something - I finish it.
"No." I said weakly. Then I felt my voice, felt my willpower backing me up, motivating me to resist. I added: "No - I said. I won't do it."
"You will. You have no choice." The witch promised.
I began to move, despite my resistance. I was under her control and aware of it. I felt her power over me slip even further. In a moment I regained control and swept the symbols of ash on the floor, ruining the summoning.
"You insolent dog!" The witch exclaimed. "I've used it all up! Damn you!"
And with that she was coughed out of Miss Marvel like some kind of hellspawned hairball. I stared at the lumpy and bubbling ectoplasma and felt a nauseating revulsion and the last of the terrified feelings I had lived with for so long.
My cat lifted the stringy dead thing and brought it to me and dropped it at my feet. She meowed with expectation and I lifted her and took her with me while she purred. I was very tired and fell asleep right away.
Of Miss Marvel I can only say we are happy together. Whatever got into her was long gone, having slithered up the wall and down the drain, leaving a trail of slime. I cleaned it up and relaxed.
Together, at college, I live happily with my marvelous cat, Miss Marvel.

Alone at college, I was unprepared to live alone - with loneliness. It was the thought of arriving in my apartment and walking through that silence to turn on lights and put something on tv - that depressed me. Some instinct to obtain a companion made me turn into the animal shelter. I adopted Miss Marvel, a rescued black cat.
Strange and unusual feelings were the first thing I noticed. I'd never had a pet before - so I attributed my sensation to her presence. There was one thought that I should have accepted. I did notice right away that Miss Marvel had two different personalities. Sometimes she was my friend, taking treats and letting me pet her and sleeping next to me. Other times she was like a pair of eyes in the shadows - watching me and making me feel menaced and hunted.
She had known her way around the apartment from the first moment I had opened her carrier. She went to a spot in the kitchen that was perfect for where I would put her food and water. If I squinted I could almost see where someone had kept two bowls on the floor, slightly cleaner where the floor was covered. The exact same spot.
I tried to meet her in her shadow realm but she made warning noises and even swatted at me, drawing a drop of blood. When I had rinsed it I heard her licking where the drop had spilled. I shuddered, wondering again if I had two different cats.
Other than that: I found her companionship to be the best that I could have. She was a lovely cat, purring and playful and responsive to my call. I didn't suspect her of the darkness that began to manifest in my home. Not her, yet it was all from her. I knew somehow that it was not right, my cat wasn't responsible.
My homework was shredded, things got broken and my plants wilted. The smell of ammonia became overwhelming and I'd have to leave my windows open. The swarm of flying insects swirling in my living room must have come in through the open window. It's how they went back out: all-at-once.
Then my own behavior began to change. I found myself waking up in strange places and missing time. I worried I might be losing my mind, until I noticed there was a pattern to my activities. Every time I slipped away I always came back with Miss Marvel sitting near me and staring intensely. She would hiss and run off when the spell wore off and I would think to myself:
"Is she somehow controlling me?"
After this had occurred a number of times I felt her power growing stronger. Miss Marvel would become the witch cat and mesmerize me and control me like a puppet. I filmed it with my webcam, but the recording wouldn't open. I took it to a college friend who worked in the campus IT and they said the file couldn't be repaired, because it wasn't broken. It had filmed just one frame and the software had interpreted it as a non-video file. They showed it to me, just one image of a weird star made out of triangles with a peculiar questionmark-like symbol emblazoned over it.
My investigations took me to the animal shelter. I determined that my cat was using witchcraft - entirely by my own instinct. I've always believed in witchcraft, found myself attracted to witches and living a charmed life. My involvement with Miss Marvel seemed to be part my lifestory already. That didn't mean I wasn't frightened.
Knowing I was dealing with witchcraft of some insidious alignment made me afraid. I felt powerless to deal with her and I knew I couldn't escape. I felt drawn to me home, despite the horror I felt at opening that door.
The shelter had, after I convinced them, to tell me the address where Miss Marvel had come from. She'd belonged to on old woman who had lived alone and died mysteriously. The address was my own. Miss Marvel had lived in my apartment before.
I called my brother and convinced him to look into the police report. He told me he'd have to get back to me with it. When he came over he apologized for not coming over earlier, like when I had started college. Or at any point since.
"You're here now. That's what I need." I told him.
He stopped apologizing for neglecting me and told me what the police report had contained.
"It started as a wellness check that went into a possible homicide. Later it was ruled as a possible suicide and finally as a natural death of unknown cause."
"What does that even mean?" I felt the eyes of Miss Marvel, watching - her ears, listening. I looked around and saw her nowhere.
"The lady who lived here - she had died of fear. Screamed until her lungs boiled and collapsed and hit her head. It looked bad, but she got scared of something and then died. That's what happened." He explained.
After my brother was gone, I reflected that his career had made him so calloused. I remembered him different growing up. Miss Marvel found me sitting and thinking and she was my cat, so she came to me and loved on me.
The next morning, I was sipping tea, when I remembered a spell someone had shown me. It was a gesture and some magic words, a cheap charm, that would reveal the hidden nature of someone or something.
How did it go?
I spoke the rhyme and focused my intention on the syntax, while looking at my cat through the corner of my eye, between the 'window' of my pinky and pointer finger - while my other two fingertips were holding my thumb. Nothing happened. I didn't give up, because I know that magic rarely works without increasing one's efforts. I'd never cast a spell before, but I knew this from what I was told. I tried the charm again and again. Early in the evening, while she was eating and the sun was setting, my spell worked.
I could see the witch standing beside my cat, the horrible open mouth looking both dead and violent at the same time. She could see me too, knew that I knew. The eyes of the creature burned with hatred, my reflection a pyre light. I put my hand down and looked away. When I looked back I felt a cold shiver, fear in my spine, knowing she was standing there unseen.
My cat stopped eating suddenly and turned and faced me, staring with far more intensity than my cat. I knew it was the witch and not her. I knew it was up to me to figure out what to do. My only problem was that I was too afraid.
I had nightmares from that night on. I'd sometimes wake up somewhere else in my home, turning butter into ashes on my stove. I would be drawing symbols on the floor in ash. I was trying to do something when she had control over me. I kept breaking free of her control before she could make any progress. At the same time - every time she got ahold of me she seemed to hold me longer and do more. She was getting stronger and I was getting weaker.
I had to know what the old witch was trying to do. There was nothing else that I could do to free myself and Miss Marvel from her power. Moving or getting rid of the cat seemed impossible. Perhaps I could have tried one of those things, but the weight of such ideas felt like I was falling to even consider those options.
Instead, I did my homework. I found out who she was, a rotary and well-known occult bookstore owner. Her obituary mentioned that there was a guest registry at her funeral. At the local library I was able to find out who held the registry. I called on them and they allowed me to look at it. They even told me that most of the guests were members of her coven, a large group of witches that had practiced together.
"I just want to know about her life. All I know is about her death. It isn't how she should be remembered?" Were my exact words to them. They were convinced I should be loaned her diary. Nobody had taken the time to read it, but it was kept with the spellbook and the registry. Of her spellbook I was given no permissions.
I sat there and read her diary and discovered she had her own agenda within the coven. Some sort of personal spirit guide of her's was to manifest for her. When I described the creature to them, they told me I had misunderstood.
"Maroni is an ancient and powerful demon that grants eternal life. There is a bargain though, the use of a body for the demon, in such a consortment. No witch would fall prey to such a well-known scam."
Yet she had made a deal with it and learned of a dangerous spell to summon Maroni. It involved writing with ash and speaking the contract in the demon's own language. I guessed that the witch had tried and met the demon and died of terror.
Somehow, she could inhabit her cat and channel her magic through Miss Marvel to control me. She was trying to complete the spell, probably so she could become alive and immortal. I felt pale and cold with fear as I realized I was her choice of bodies to live in.
Every night my dreams showed me the ritual in different times and places. Different people, religions, civilizations had all come and gone. Each had danced with the demon upon the ashes of its summoning. All of them had tried to bargain with it. Always the demon won, always it got what it wanted and gave nothing in return.
I was falling asleep in lectures and having visions or sightings of the tormented souls trapped by the demon's spell. Shamans and druids, priestesses and warlocks, all as ghosts in their ritual garb, dead for whole chapters of history and trapped in our world, unseen. I felt sick, my body trying to reject the infection in my spirit.
As I deteriorated there became less and less of a distinction between her control and mine. I felt myself slipping into the embrace of her power, somehow relieved to stop struggling and just give up. My fear became a constant anxiety, knowing what was happening and helpless to stop it.
"Now you will perform the ritual." The voice of the witch spoke to me from Miss Marvel, contorted and barely human-sounding.
I gathered what little of my willpower was left. I thought about the good times with Miss Marvel, when she was my cat. I wanted to break free, to somehow throw off the weight that was crushing me. I needed to begin, whenever I start something - I finish it.
"No." I said weakly. Then I felt my voice, felt my willpower backing me up, motivating me to resist. I added: "No - I said. I won't do it."
"You will. You have no choice." The witch promised.
I began to move, despite my resistance. I was under her control and aware of it. I felt her power over me slip even further. In a moment I regained control and swept the symbols of ash on the floor, ruining the summoning.
"You insolent dog!" The witch exclaimed. "I've used it all up! Damn you!"
And with that she was coughed out of Miss Marvel like some kind of hellspawned hairball. I stared at the lumpy and bubbling ectoplasma and felt a nauseating revulsion and the last of the terrified feelings I had lived with for so long.
My cat lifted the stringy dead thing and brought it to me and dropped it at my feet. She meowed with expectation and I lifted her and took her with me while she purred. I was very tired and fell asleep right away.
Of Miss Marvel I can only say we are happy together. Whatever got into her was long gone, having slithered up the wall and down the drain, leaving a trail of slime. I cleaned it up and relaxed.
Together, at college, I live happily with my marvelous cat, Miss Marvel.

Alone at college, I was unprepared to live alone - with loneliness. It was the thought of arriving in my apartment and walking through that silence to turn on lights and put something on tv - that depressed me. Some instinct to obtain a companion made me turn into the animal shelter. I adopted Miss Marvel, a rescued black cat.
Strange and unusual feelings were the first thing I noticed. I'd never had a pet before - so I attributed my sensation to her presence. There was one thought that I should have accepted. I did notice right away that Miss Marvel had two different personalities. Sometimes she was my friend, taking treats and letting me pet her and sleeping next to me. Other times she was like a pair of eyes in the shadows - watching me and making me feel menaced and hunted.
She had known her way around the apartment from the first moment I had opened her carrier. She went to a spot in the kitchen that was perfect for where I would put her food and water. If I squinted I could almost see where someone had kept two bowls on the floor, slightly cleaner where the floor was covered. The exact same spot.
I tried to meet her in her shadow realm but she made warning noises and even swatted at me, drawing a drop of blood. When I had rinsed it I heard her licking where the drop had spilled. I shuddered, wondering again if I had two different cats.
Other than that: I found her companionship to be the best that I could have. She was a lovely cat, purring and playful and responsive to my call. I didn't suspect her of the darkness that began to manifest in my home. Not her, yet it was all from her. I knew somehow that it was not right, my cat wasn't responsible.
My homework was shredded, things got broken and my plants wilted. The smell of ammonia became overwhelming and I'd have to leave my windows open. The swarm of flying insects swirling in my living room must have come in through the open window. It's how they went back out: all-at-once.
Then my own behavior began to change. I found myself waking up in strange places and missing time. I worried I might be losing my mind, until I noticed there was a pattern to my activities. Every time I slipped away I always came back with Miss Marvel sitting near me and staring intensely. She would hiss and run off when the spell wore off and I would think to myself:
"Is she somehow controlling me?"
After this had occurred a number of times I felt her power growing stronger. Miss Marvel would become the witch cat and mesmerize me and control me like a puppet. I filmed it with my webcam, but the recording wouldn't open. I took it to a college friend who worked in the campus IT and they said the file couldn't be repaired, because it wasn't broken. It had filmed just one frame and the software had interpreted it as a non-video file. They showed it to me, just one image of a weird star made out of triangles with a peculiar questionmark-like symbol emblazoned over it.
My investigations took me to the animal shelter. I determined that my cat was using witchcraft - entirely by my own instinct. I've always believed in witchcraft, found myself attracted to witches and living a charmed life. My involvement with Miss Marvel seemed to be part my lifestory already. That didn't mean I wasn't frightened.
Knowing I was dealing with witchcraft of some insidious alignment made me afraid. I felt powerless to deal with her and I knew I couldn't escape. I felt drawn to me home, despite the horror I felt at opening that door.
The shelter had, after I convinced them, to tell me the address where Miss Marvel had come from. She'd belonged to on old woman who had lived alone and died mysteriously. The address was my own. Miss Marvel had lived in my apartment before.
I called my brother and convinced him to look into the police report. He told me he'd have to get back to me with it. When he came over he apologized for not coming over earlier, like when I had started college. Or at any point since.
"You're here now. That's what I need." I told him.
He stopped apologizing for neglecting me and told me what the police report had contained.
"It started as a wellness check that went into a possible homicide. Later it was ruled as a possible suicide and finally as a natural death of unknown cause."
"What does that even mean?" I felt the eyes of Miss Marvel, watching - her ears, listening. I looked around and saw her nowhere.
"The lady who lived here - she had died of fear. Screamed until her lungs boiled and collapsed and hit her head. It looked bad, but she got scared of something and then died. That's what happened." He explained.
After my brother was gone, I reflected that his career had made him so calloused. I remembered him different growing up. Miss Marvel found me sitting and thinking and she was my cat, so she came to me and loved on me.
The next morning, I was sipping tea, when I remembered a spell someone had shown me. It was a gesture and some magic words, a cheap charm, that would reveal the hidden nature of someone or something.
How did it go?
I spoke the rhyme and focused my intention on the syntax, while looking at my cat through the corner of my eye, between the 'window' of my pinky and pointer finger - while my other two fingertips were holding my thumb. Nothing happened. I didn't give up, because I know that magic rarely works without increasing one's efforts. I'd never cast a spell before, but I knew this from what I was told. I tried the charm again and again. Early in the evening, while she was eating and the sun was setting, my spell worked.
I could see the witch standing beside my cat, the horrible open mouth looking both dead and violent at the same time. She could see me too, knew that I knew. The eyes of the creature burned with hatred, my reflection a pyre light. I put my hand down and looked away. When I looked back I felt a cold shiver, fear in my spine, knowing she was standing there unseen.
My cat stopped eating suddenly and turned and faced me, staring with far more intensity than my cat. I knew it was the witch and not her. I knew it was up to me to figure out what to do. My only problem was that I was too afraid.
I had nightmares from that night on. I'd sometimes wake up somewhere else in my home, turning butter into ashes on my stove. I would be drawing symbols on the floor in ash. I was trying to do something when she had control over me. I kept breaking free of her control before she could make any progress. At the same time - every time she got ahold of me she seemed to hold me longer and do more. She was getting stronger and I was getting weaker.
I had to know what the old witch was trying to do. There was nothing else that I could do to free myself and Miss Marvel from her power. Moving or getting rid of the cat seemed impossible. Perhaps I could have tried one of those things, but the weight of such ideas felt like I was falling to even consider those options.
Instead, I did my homework. I found out who she was, a rotary and well-known occult bookstore owner. Her obituary mentioned that there was a guest registry at her funeral. At the local library I was able to find out who held the registry. I called on them and they allowed me to look at it. They even told me that most of the guests were members of her coven, a large group of witches that had practiced together.
"I just want to know about her life. All I know is about her death. It isn't how she should be remembered?" Were my exact words to them. They were convinced I should be loaned her diary. Nobody had taken the time to read it, but it was kept with the spellbook and the registry. Of her spellbook I was given no permissions.
I sat there and read her diary and discovered she had her own agenda within the coven. Some sort of personal spirit guide of her's was to manifest for her. When I described the creature to them, they told me I had misunderstood.
"Maroni is an ancient and powerful demon that grants eternal life. There is a bargain though, the use of a body for the demon, in such a consortment. No witch would fall prey to such a well-known scam."
Yet she had made a deal with it and learned of a dangerous spell to summon Maroni. It involved writing with ash and speaking the contract in the demon's own language. I guessed that the witch had tried and met the demon and died of terror.
Somehow, she could inhabit her cat and channel her magic through Miss Marvel to control me. She was trying to complete the spell, probably so she could become alive and immortal. I felt pale and cold with fear as I realized I was her choice of bodies to live in.
Every night my dreams showed me the ritual in different times and places. Different people, religions, civilizations had all come and gone. Each had danced with the demon upon the ashes of its summoning. All of them had tried to bargain with it. Always the demon won, always it got what it wanted and gave nothing in return.
I was falling asleep in lectures and having visions or sightings of the tormented souls trapped by the demon's spell. Shamans and druids, priestesses and warlocks, all as ghosts in their ritual garb, dead for whole chapters of history and trapped in our world, unseen. I felt sick, my body trying to reject the infection in my spirit.
As I deteriorated there became less and less of a distinction between her control and mine. I felt myself slipping into the embrace of her power, somehow relieved to stop struggling and just give up. My fear became a constant anxiety, knowing what was happening and helpless to stop it.
"Now you will perform the ritual." The voice of the witch spoke to me from Miss Marvel, contorted and barely human-sounding.
I gathered what little of my willpower was left. I thought about the good times with Miss Marvel, when she was my cat. I wanted to break free, to somehow throw off the weight that was crushing me. I needed to begin, whenever I start something - I finish it.
"No." I said weakly. Then I felt my voice, felt my willpower backing me up, motivating me to resist. I added: "No - I said. I won't do it."
"You will. You have no choice." The witch promised.
I began to move, despite my resistance. I was under her control and aware of it. I felt her power over me slip even further. In a moment I regained control and swept the symbols of ash on the floor, ruining the summoning.
"You insolent dog!" The witch exclaimed. "I've used it all up! Damn you!"
And with that she was coughed out of Miss Marvel like some kind of hellspawned hairball. I stared at the lumpy and bubbling ectoplasma and felt a nauseating revulsion and the last of the terrified feelings I had lived with for so long.
My cat lifted the stringy dead thing and brought it to me and dropped it at my feet. She meowed with expectation and I lifted her and took her with me while she purred. I was very tired and fell asleep right away.
Of Miss Marvel I can only say we are happy together. Whatever got into her was long gone, having slithered up the wall and down the drain, leaving a trail of slime. I cleaned it up and relaxed.
Together, at college, I live happily with my marvelous cat, Miss Marvel.

Alone at college, I was unprepared to live alone - with loneliness. It was the thought of arriving in my apartment and walking through that silence to turn on lights and put something on tv - that depressed me. Some instinct to obtain a companion made me turn into the animal shelter. I adopted Miss Marvel, a rescued black cat.
Strange and unusual feelings were the first thing I noticed. I'd never had a pet before - so I attributed my sensation to her presence. There was one thought that I should have accepted. I did notice right away that Miss Marvel had two different personalities. Sometimes she was my friend, taking treats and letting me pet her and sleeping next to me. Other times she was like a pair of eyes in the shadows - watching me and making me feel menaced and hunted.
She had known her way around the apartment from the first moment I had opened her carrier. She went to a spot in the kitchen that was perfect for where I would put her food and water. If I squinted I could almost see where someone had kept two bowls on the floor, slightly cleaner where the floor was covered. The exact same spot.
I tried to meet her in her shadow realm but she made warning noises and even swatted at me, drawing a drop of blood. When I had rinsed it I heard her licking where the drop had spilled. I shuddered, wondering again if I had two different cats.
Other than that: I found her companionship to be the best that I could have. She was a lovely cat, purring and playful and responsive to my call. I didn't suspect her of the darkness that began to manifest in my home. Not her, yet it was all from her. I knew somehow that it was not right, my cat wasn't responsible.
My homework was shredded, things got broken and my plants wilted. The smell of ammonia became overwhelming and I'd have to leave my windows open. The swarm of flying insects swirling in my living room must have come in through the open window. It's how they went back out: all-at-once.
Then my own behavior began to change. I found myself waking up in strange places and missing time. I worried I might be losing my mind, until I noticed there was a pattern to my activities. Every time I slipped away I always came back with Miss Marvel sitting near me and staring intensely. She would hiss and run off when the spell wore off and I would think to myself:
"Is she somehow controlling me?"
After this had occurred a number of times I felt her power growing stronger. Miss Marvel would become the witch cat and mesmerize me and control me like a puppet. I filmed it with my webcam, but the recording wouldn't open. I took it to a college friend who worked in the campus IT and they said the file couldn't be repaired, because it wasn't broken. It had filmed just one frame and the software had interpreted it as a non-video file. They showed it to me, just one image of a weird star made out of triangles with a peculiar questionmark-like symbol emblazoned over it.
My investigations took me to the animal shelter. I determined that my cat was using witchcraft - entirely by my own instinct. I've always believed in witchcraft, found myself attracted to witches and living a charmed life. My involvement with Miss Marvel seemed to be part my lifestory already. That didn't mean I wasn't frightened.
Knowing I was dealing with witchcraft of some insidious alignment made me afraid. I felt powerless to deal with her and I knew I couldn't escape. I felt drawn to me home, despite the horror I felt at opening that door.
The shelter had, after I convinced them, to tell me the address where Miss Marvel had come from. She'd belonged to on old woman who had lived alone and died mysteriously. The address was my own. Miss Marvel had lived in my apartment before.
I called my brother and convinced him to look into the police report. He told me he'd have to get back to me with it. When he came over he apologized for not coming over earlier, like when I had started college. Or at any point since.
"You're here now. That's what I need." I told him.
He stopped apologizing for neglecting me and told me what the police report had contained.
"It started as a wellness check that went into a possible homicide. Later it was ruled as a possible suicide and finally as a natural death of unknown cause."
"What does that even mean?" I felt the eyes of Miss Marvel, watching - her ears, listening. I looked around and saw her nowhere.
"The lady who lived here - she had died of fear. Screamed until her lungs boiled and collapsed and hit her head. It looked bad, but she got scared of something and then died. That's what happened." He explained.
After my brother was gone, I reflected that his career had made him so calloused. I remembered him different growing up. Miss Marvel found me sitting and thinking and she was my cat, so she came to me and loved on me.
The next morning, I was sipping tea, when I remembered a spell someone had shown me. It was a gesture and some magic words, a cheap charm, that would reveal the hidden nature of someone or something.
How did it go?
I spoke the rhyme and focused my intention on the syntax, while looking at my cat through the corner of my eye, between the 'window' of my pinky and pointer finger - while my other two fingertips were holding my thumb. Nothing happened. I didn't give up, because I know that magic rarely works without increasing one's efforts. I'd never cast a spell before, but I knew this from what I was told. I tried the charm again and again. Early in the evening, while she was eating and the sun was setting, my spell worked.
I could see the witch standing beside my cat, the horrible open mouth looking both dead and violent at the same time. She could see me too, knew that I knew. The eyes of the creature burned with hatred, my reflection a pyre light. I put my hand down and looked away. When I looked back I felt a cold shiver, fear in my spine, knowing she was standing there unseen.
My cat stopped eating suddenly and turned and faced me, staring with far more intensity than my cat. I knew it was the witch and not her. I knew it was up to me to figure out what to do. My only problem was that I was too afraid.
I had nightmares from that night on. I'd sometimes wake up somewhere else in my home, turning butter into ashes on my stove. I would be drawing symbols on the floor in ash. I was trying to do something when she had control over me. I kept breaking free of her control before she could make any progress. At the same time - every time she got ahold of me she seemed to hold me longer and do more. She was getting stronger and I was getting weaker.
I had to know what the old witch was trying to do. There was nothing else that I could do to free myself and Miss Marvel from her power. Moving or getting rid of the cat seemed impossible. Perhaps I could have tried one of those things, but the weight of such ideas felt like I was falling to even consider those options.
Instead, I did my homework. I found out who she was, a rotary and well-known occult bookstore owner. Her obituary mentioned that there was a guest registry at her funeral. At the local library I was able to find out who held the registry. I called on them and they allowed me to look at it. They even told me that most of the guests were members of her coven, a large group of witches that had practiced together.
"I just want to know about her life. All I know is about her death. It isn't how she should be remembered?" Were my exact words to them. They were convinced I should be loaned her diary. Nobody had taken the time to read it, but it was kept with the spellbook and the registry. Of her spellbook I was given no permissions.
I sat there and read her diary and discovered she had her own agenda within the coven. Some sort of personal spirit guide of her's was to manifest for her. When I described the creature to them, they told me I had misunderstood.
"Maroni is an ancient and powerful demon that grants eternal life. There is a bargain though, the use of a body for the demon, in such a consortment. No witch would fall prey to such a well-known scam."
Yet she had made a deal with it and learned of a dangerous spell to summon Maroni. It involved writing with ash and speaking the contract in the demon's own language. I guessed that the witch had tried and met the demon and died of terror.
Somehow, she could inhabit her cat and channel her magic through Miss Marvel to control me. She was trying to complete the spell, probably so she could become alive and immortal. I felt pale and cold with fear as I realized I was her choice of bodies to live in.
Every night my dreams showed me the ritual in different times and places. Different people, religions, civilizations had all come and gone. Each had danced with the demon upon the ashes of its summoning. All of them had tried to bargain with it. Always the demon won, always it got what it wanted and gave nothing in return.
I was falling asleep in lectures and having visions or sightings of the tormented souls trapped by the demon's spell. Shamans and druids, priestesses and warlocks, all as ghosts in their ritual garb, dead for whole chapters of history and trapped in our world, unseen. I felt sick, my body trying to reject the infection in my spirit.
As I deteriorated there became less and less of a distinction between her control and mine. I felt myself slipping into the embrace of her power, somehow relieved to stop struggling and just give up. My fear became a constant anxiety, knowing what was happening and helpless to stop it.
"Now you will perform the ritual." The voice of the witch spoke to me from Miss Marvel, contorted and barely human-sounding.
I gathered what little of my willpower was left. I thought about the good times with Miss Marvel, when she was my cat. I wanted to break free, to somehow throw off the weight that was crushing me. I needed to begin, whenever I start something - I finish it.
"No." I said weakly. Then I felt my voice, felt my willpower backing me up, motivating me to resist. I added: "No - I said. I won't do it."
"You will. You have no choice." The witch promised.
I began to move, despite my resistance. I was under her control and aware of it. I felt her power over me slip even further. In a moment I regained control and swept the symbols of ash on the floor, ruining the summoning.
"You insolent dog!" The witch exclaimed. "I've used it all up! Damn you!"
And with that she was coughed out of Miss Marvel like some kind of hellspawned hairball. I stared at the lumpy and bubbling ectoplasma and felt a nauseating revulsion and the last of the terrified feelings I had lived with for so long.
My cat lifted the stringy dead thing and brought it to me and dropped it at my feet. She meowed with expectation and I lifted her and took her with me while she purred. I was very tired and fell asleep right away.
Of Miss Marvel I can only say we are happy together. Whatever got into her was long gone, having slithered up the wall and down the drain, leaving a trail of slime. I cleaned it up and relaxed.
Together, at college, I live happily with my marvelous cat, Miss Marvel.

The familiar smell of burnt coffee hung in the air, mixing with the sent of cooking meats and stale doughnuts. Binki barely noticed as she sat at a back corner booth reading the same book she'd gotten at the local thrift store for what felt like the thousandth time. The night shift at a 24 hour dinner was always boring. The only people that came to eat at 3 am were not the types you really want to fraternize with. There was always the cook in the back of course, Mick, but he was older, and she was not in the mood for another fatherly “back in my day” lecture tonight. So she thought it best to keep her distance from the kitchen tonight. The ring of bell over the door split the air startling her. She sauntered toward the front of the restaurant, likely it was yet another high junkie looking to satisfy the munchies. She'd offer the last few of the staling doughnuts for a small discount and send the patron on, but on reaching the front podium she was surprised to find a nicely dressed business man in a very fancy suit. “you lost?” Binki asked
“no I was looking for a bite to eat if you have any” He replied
she raised an eye brow and smiled at his accent. He sounded European “Sure, just pick your seat and I'll get ya a menu.”
“thank you-” he paused to read her name tag pinned to her chest “Binki. Is that short for something?” he asked as he walked to the back booth she had just been sitting in.
“yeah, but my full name is Hindi and a lot of folks can't say it so,” she shrugged “Binki is easier” she handed him the menu and picked her book up from the other side of the table.
“no need” he said handing the menu back to her “what do you suggest?”
“well Mick's a pretty good chef but his specialty is the chicken tenders”
“well how bout and order of those then?”
“OK, you want fries with that?”
He smiled “what an American thing to say. Sure I'd love some 'fries'” he said using what she thought was his attempt at an American accent.
“OK then” she walked to the kitchen and looked through the window “yo Mick!” She called “wake up back there and give me an order of tenders and fries!”
“what!?!” came Mick’s startled reply “you mean we have an actual person out there!”
she rolled her eyes “no mick it’s a chicken and potato eating robot that needs a fix.”
“My you young folks today and your sarcasm why back in my day...” Binki rolled her eyes and walked away from the window with a sigh. She went back to the table
“your food'll be ready in a bit.” she turned and started scanning for another booth to sit in
“miss Binki?” the man asked.
She turned around “you need something else?” she asked
“yes some company if you don't mind?” a little voice in her head said that talking to a stranger was a bad idea, but she was bored and the guy was really hot.
She shrugged “why not, so what are you doing out at this hour?” she asked as she sat down on the other side of the table.
“I just got in from Ireland today for a bit of a business trip I suppose you could say. I just can't seem to kick the jet lag.”
“Ireland hu? Wow you came from a distance. What kind of business are ya in?”
“Well I suppose you could say the business of acquiring businesses, my family started in Ireland as the biggest ranch in the nation, then we started branching out into things like construction and well I don't want to bore you with the specifics. Suffice to say that we have started buying and taking various successful companies from around the world under our corporate umbrella”
“well, OK then, so why ya hanging out here? I mean for someone with as much money as you, I'd think you could order some 5 star chef outta bed to make you a sandwich, and never leave the comfort of you penthouse suite?”
He laughed a bit “I suppose I could but I like going to places like this reminds me of my collage days.” As the night wore on the 2 found themselves talking until the sunrise. When they finally parted ways it was with plans to meet again. As the weeks continued the two met whenever they could, getting to know each other, spending more and more time together. He left for Ireland after one passion filled night with promises of coming back, but Binki never heard from him again.
***
Five years, later the sun shone through the stained curtains in her window and landed on Jesminda’s small face gently warming her and coaxing her out of bed. The faint sounds of music wafted acroos the room. Mama was singing again, she liked to sing while she made food and cleaned the house. Today's tune was some pop song from long before Jesminda was born. Jesminda stretched out and wandered into the kitchen.
“morning mama” she said rubbing the sleep sand from her eyes.
“good morning sweetheart. Hurry up and eat hon. We have to get to the diner soon.” Jesminda sat and obediently ate she didn't want to go to the diner it was boring. She had to sit in the back room or a small corner of the kitchen and color or play by herself. If it was quite sometimes she got to sit out in the dining room and watch TV but since mama was going at this hour today that was unlikely. However arguing with her was useless, if their neighbor Mrs. Hugh could watch her she would have. Then Mrs. Hugh would have been in the kitchen talking to mama while she got ready to leave. Jesminda ate her cereal quietly while mama went to the bathroom and slipped into her work clothes.
“what do you want to bring to the diner today?” Mama asked as she moved to the area that served as the bedroom they shared.
Jesminda sighed and said “I guess what I always bring, my coloring books crayons, Trisha, and sleepy”
mama gave a sad smile and collected the mostly filled coloring book she flipped through it with a quite sigh “you've just about filled every page in this book.” she said.
Jesminda shrugged “I know” she also knew it wasn't likely she’d be able to get a new one mama just didn't have time or money to go get a new book.
“How bout this why don't we pack some pencils, paper, and crayons instead and you can make your own coloring book, like we did a few months ago.”
Jesminda smiled at the memory a few months ago she and mama had spent hours together drawing up a special coloring book just for her. “but you won't be able to help me draw it while your working” Jesminda complained
“that’s OK you can draw it yourself and I'll stop into to help you between rushes hows that sound?” Mama tried
“OK, I guess” the sad smile was back Binki knew Jesi was trying and that was good enough, but she also knew that yesterday at school the new girl, Lacey, had told Jesi she wasn't allowed to use any of the schools crayons on her own small coloring book cause it didn't have any pictures of Anna or Elsa not even a picture of Olof. Oh the teacher had done her best to make Lacey share and had told them the pictures in their books did not matter, but the words still hurt, and had still made Jesi notice for the 1st time that the things she had were not as nice as the things Lacey had. Jesi had a small back pack that they had been using for 2 years, while Lacey had a nice fancy new back pack on her hook with a picture of Elsa and Anna smiling out at her. Jesi’s lunch came in a small bag that Binki had sewn herself from an old shirt. Lacey's was a nice plastic bag that kept food cold for her without a fridge so she could have fancier lunches, like the Lunchables that Binki could never afford to get Jesi. Jesi’s lunches were always the same a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a piece of fruit usually apple slices dipped in cinnamon sugar, and a juice box. Is wasn't fancy but it was Jesi’s favorite.
Binki, picked up Trisha Jesi’s only barbie doll and then went into their bedroom and grabbed sleepy the stuffed blue mouse that Jesi slept with she shoved everything in Jesi’s bag and looked at her
“OK princess we need to get you dressed and get on the road or mama's gonna be late for work again.” Jesminda shoved the last bite of cereal in her mouth and hopped off the couch “come on put some pep in your step kido” Binki cheered from the kitchen area.
A few minutes later Jesi came out of the bedroom in her blue shirt and jeans she slipped on her socks and shoes and grabbed her bag as mama grabbed the Metro passes.
One short walk and a few minutes later and they were seated on a crowded train car heading to the diner. “s-o” mama started drawing the word out “I hear someone has a birthday coming up soon”
“Who?” Jesi asked
“you silly! You know you really need to learn when your birthday is or it'll pass you by” mama teased. “So what do you want for your birthday?”
Jesminda sat and thought for a minute “a new coloring book might be nice.”
Binki felt the tears stinging the back of her eyes her little girl was turning 5 and all she wanted for her birthday was a new coloring book. Binki appreciated that her little princess did not ask for things she knew she couldn't have, but right on the heels of that appreciation came the pain of knowing why. Jesi was staring to notice that they didn't have as much as the new bully. The questions ever since the indecent with Lacey a few weeks ago were finally stopping but the smiles were also fading with each answer. Binki knew it was wrong to curse a little girl that didn't know better but darn that whole family’s picture for making her little girl feel like less than she was just cause they were poor. A single mom with little to no education, and no family to speak of, that could only get a job as a waitress at a diner, could only do so much. Jesi never used to notice the differences between her and the other kids at school. It hurt that those days were gone, but Binki tried not to let Jesi see how much it hurt. She supposed life may have been easier for her if she'd aborted Jesi but no, the thought of not having Jesi was quickly chased by the memories of holding that perfect little angel in her arms for the 1st time, seeing her take her 1st steps, hearing her 1st words, watching her laugh and smile on the playground. Quickly chased by all the beautiful crafts Jesi had brought home for mothers day, and later as she began to grow up all the even better drawings. Better because the school had not done those for her, Jesi had drawn those pictures all by herself. She still had them every single one in a box under their bed. Binki stifled a yawn she really wished she didn't have to keep pulling these double and triple shifts but she still needed to pay the rent on their 1 bedroom apartment, and utilities, and food, the bills kept coming didn't they.
Binki had been trying to stash a way a few dollars each week though, and if she was lucky, with help from a few of her coworkers, she'd soon be able to afford not only that new coloring book that Jesi asked for but also a new doll set both Anna and Elsa and even a small plastic Olof figure. At least she hoped she'd manged enough for both. The train reached their stop and Binki hustled Jesi into the door.
“Hey Kelsey!” Binki called to the manger.
The perky late twenties woman looked up from the group at table she was greeting and smiled “hey Binki, and Jesi! What a nice surprise.” Binki was lucky that her boss was so nice, Kelsey understood that she couldn't always get a sitter on the weekends and was willing to let Jesi hang out around the diner as long as she didn't get in the way. Kelsey was also on occasion a baby sitter for Jesi
“Hi Ms. Kelsey.” Jesi said with a smile.
“You know what Jesi, I have to work on the floor today which means the office is all yours for a few hours if you want it?” Kelsey offered with a knowing smile.
Jesi's eyes lit up “can I watch a movie?”
Kelsey's lyrical laugh sounded through the restaurant as she took Jesi's hand “well I think I can get Disney running on my computer for a bit if you want?”
Binki looked at Kelsey and mouthed “thank you” as Kelsey took Jesi to the back room. At lest that was a few hours she would not have to worry about entertaining her rambunctious daughter. Jesi was a sweet charming child and she would do anything to please her mom but she was still a child and she still would much rather be spending her Saturday playing at the park like other kids instead of being cooped up at a restaurant. Still watching TV on the computer in the back was a good back up plan for a few hours. Maybe on breaks she and Kelsey would be able to take Jesi outside there wasn't much to play on out there but there was a fairly large median between the diner and the super store next door she could at least run a few laps and jump around a bit.
Binki looked out the window, the night smothered the city in darkness. She glanced to the back booth where Jesi slept. Sleepy gently tucked under one arm and Kelsey's coat, sprawled over her small form. Headlights flashed the front window. A customer, she sighed and hoped she wouldn’t have to move Jesi for them. It was a single man. Her heart seized as she caught sight of a glint of metal in his hand when his lights blinked with the beeping of his car alarm. On the second flash she saw it for what it was. A gun! Instinct kicking in she ran to the booth and grabbed Jesi who grunted.
“mommy is it time to go home?” the child asked as Binki burst through the kitchen doors.
“Robbie call the police now!” without waiting for Robbie's inevitable stream of questions her eyes zeroed in on a large cabinet next to the skin, just as a loud disgruntled voice yelled through the restaurant.
“KELESY!”
Binki opened the cabinet and tucked Jesi in behind the dishes. “stay here don't make a sound and don't come out until mama comes for you ok?” with that she closed Jesi into the cabinet.
“ED!” Kelsey's statement range with undeniable fear followed by a loud burst, almost like a car backfiring outside. Then the kitchen doors flung open and another shoot rang out! And Robbie who had just hit the send button on his phone dropped to the ground. Next the gun leveled off at a terrified Binki
“where's the little brat.” Ed snarled.
“J-Jesi?” Binki stuttered “sh-she's not here I-I left her with a neighbor tonight”
Ed’s lips curled into a snarl “good”
Binki watched his finger tighten on the trigger and thought “God protect my baby”. Then the world faded into a painful blackness.
Jesi heard her mama tell the man she wasn't here then there was a loud banging sound and the man walked away Jesi wanted to go see her mama. Jesi wanted mama to come get her, but she remembered mama saying not to come out until she came. A few minutes later there was another popping sound and then footsteps and the bell over the door rang as it was ripped open. Jesi sat for what felt like hours she was so scared why hadn't mama come get her, she started to cry. Then she heard sirens like the police were coming she wanted to scream, but mama told her not to make a sound. She heard the bell over the front door ring some voices called out to each other and footsteps ran further into the diner. “Make that a bus” she couldn't hear the reply but the person did not sound happy. The foot steps came into the kitchen “and tell them to bring 3 bags!”
“Really!” this voice was a lady she sounded sad too. “aw, man” she said sounding like she was in the kitchen too. She sighed and walked out chatting on her radio the foot steps in the room stopped and Jesi started crying again until the cabinet opened and a mans face filled her eyes with burning light around it. “what the-” he exclaimed as her eyes started adjusting to the light “Linda! Get e.m.’s out here we're gonna need em after all!”
“what?! We got a survivor?” she said some things into her radio
“I'm officer Rick and that nice lady was my partner Officer Linda” the man said “what's your name sweetie?”
“J-jesi” she sobbed “I want my mama.”
“I’m sure you do Jessie can you tell my your mama's name?”
“B-Binki”
the mans eyes went wide and then got really sad.
“Binki that's a nice name. Jessie your Mama's not felling to well right now I'd like to take you outside to my car. Have you ever ridden in a police car?”
“N-no”
“I wanna play a little game OK. I'm gonna put my coat over your head and I want you to close your eyes really tight keep them shut until I say to open them OK?”
“O-OK” she did exactly as the officer asked closing her eyes super tight he put his jacket over her head and picked her up.
“So jesie wheres you daddy?” he asked
“I don't have one.”
Officer Rick let out a small sigh “is there and aunt or an uncle or grandma who can come get you?” “Ms. Kelsey.”
“Great!” he said putting her on a seat “you can open your eyes now.” She did “do you know ms Kelsey’s phone number?”
“No”
“Can you tell me where she is?”
“In the diner with mama”
“Oh. Is there anyone else we can call a neighbor or something?”
“Mrs. Hugh, but mama said she won't be able to watch me for a long time”
“Do you know how to contact Mrs. Hugh?”
“She lives in the apartment next door”
“OK we'll see if we can contact Mrs. Hugh then. can you wait here for me?”
“OK” she sniffled she was scared and tired and lonely she wanted mama.
Officer Rodrick walked back into the diner after closing the cruiser door on a very sad and scared little girl. His heart went out to her she didn't look much older than his own son. As he walked into the scene Linda looked up “hows the kid?”
“How do you think she's doing?”
“You tell her?”
“Oh yeah, Linda I sat her in the back seat and told her hey kid your mom's dead and then came running back in here to see you”
“I just love your sarcasm, Rick, it's so becoming”
“One of my many charms. So make me the happiest guy in the world and tell me we read that waitresses name tag wrong.”
“Nope waitress is Binki alright”
“Wonderful” his tone suggested it was anything but “and according to our little witness this lady here is Kelsey so who’s the man”
“Robert Pendleton according to that schedule on the wall. The cook for the night” Linda infomred him
I see some cameras any chance we got this guy on film?”
“I was just looking for that now.”
“Well ms Kelsey here looks like a manger and she looks like she was coming from this back hallway. BINGO! Office area”
“Great whatddya see?”
“Perp busted the safe. Looks like he shot it open and ripped the security hard drive off the wall. So much for video.
“So the only person here who knows what went down is not even old enough to know her own name” Linda griped
“Hey! shes a kid, Linda she's not dumb, and she doesn’t have a daddy”
“By Gods grace!” Linda teared up
Blue and red lights began to sweep through the windows Rick went out the greet the emt’s and hand Jesi over to them. “Hey guys. 3 doa 1 survivor a child about 5 years old. She's been in a confined space for a prolonged period.”
“Alright show us the kid” the EMT requested. Rick lead the way to Jessie and stood by as they started to get to work.
“Hi sweetie” the EMT greeted Jesi
“Hi”
“I'm ms. Hilda and I'm gonna check you out today?”
“check me for what?” Jesi asked
“for any boo-boos or owies”
“why I don't have any. But mama, they said she wasn't feeling well and I can't see her”
“we're gonna get to your mama soon can you tell me your name?” Hilda asked
“Jesi I already told him!” she said pointing to officer Rick “you should ask him.”
The EMT laughed a little and asked “whats your full name jesi?”
“Jesminda Lila Bannera”
“oh so it's Jesi for short hu?”
“Go take care of mama!” the girl said and stuck her lip out in a suborn pout “the sooner mama feels better the sooner we can go home.”
“I have a whole other group of friends coming just to help your mom ok Jesi. Did you hit your head or anything?”
“no I'm fine and if you don't go help mama I'm gonna scream.”
“ok, ok, me and officer Rick are gonna go look at you mom ok?”
“finally!” Jesi pouted
The EMT laughed as she walked into the building “there's nothing we can do here she'll have to be admitted to the hospital over night any one we can call”
“I have dispatch looking for her neighbor a Mrs Hugh but other wise, no doesn't sound like it”
“What was she doing here this late?” Hilda asked
“Her mom was the waitress likely she couldn't get a sitter and had to take the kid to work with her”
The crime scene crew had arrived and were taking photos. Something on the floor under the back booth caught ricks eye. A stuffed toy of some kind maybe the kids bear csu photographed it and picked it up to study it.
“Hey Charlie” Rick called to the guy “is that toy clean?” looks like it the scene was no where near it why?”
“Cause there's a little girl in my car that desperately needs some comfort when she gets the news that her moms not coming back and I think that might be her security object. Can I give it to her?”
“Well it's been photographed, documented and examined I and considering it's distance from the scene I think we can let this one go” he said handing the doll over
“Thanks man, time to go give a baby the worst news of her life I guess” he walked toward the car looking at the toy he realized it wasn't a bear it was big enough to be a bear but the ears were huge and round, there was a little stub of fabric on the back were a tail had been “loved” off. “Hey Jesi I found someone inside that wants to see you.”
“MAMA!!!!” the child wiggled excitedly
Rick kicked himself stupid mistake “no but I found this little guy” he said handing her the toy
“Sleepy.”
“I'm sure your sleepy”
“No that’s his name” she said taking the toy
“His name is sleepy”
she hugged the mouse to her chest and looked at him “mama's not sick is she?”
He had to admit the kid was sharp he just hoped she wasn't too sharp
“she's dead isn't she”
she was too sharp.
“I'm sorry Jesi” those 2 words were all it took to send one little girl into a fit of grief. Jesi buried her eyes into the back of the mouse’s head and sobbed. Rick leaned forward and gathered the small girl into his arms and held her until she pushed away.
“It's not fair” she yelled “what did the bad guy want with ms Kelsey anyhow! He didn't have to hurt mama too.”
Rick froze “what do you mean the bad guy wanted something with ms Kelsey”
“He yelled her name then there was a loud noise and then he came into the kitchen and made the loud noise again and then he asked mommy where I was and she lied and said I was at home with Mrs. Hugh and he said that was good and made the loud sound again. Then he slammed the office door and then he left”
Rick stood stunned how could such a small child be such a great witness? Sure she hadn't seen a thing, thank God, but she had heard it all and had just given them a massive lead the shooter was after Kelsey. Robert and Binki were just collateral damage to cover the shooter’s tracks. And he must have known them all pretty well cause he knew that Binki often brought her daughter to work at least often enough to ask about her. He had no doubt if Binki hadn't lied then there would be 4 bodies today not 3 the woman had used her dying breath to save her daughter.
The EMT’s wheeled the gurney with the sleeping child into the hospital Rick followed them until he met a big matronly type lady in the lobby.
“Hey Rick” she raised her hand in greeting
“Matilda, wow, your here fast”
“Meh, I was already here we had a little boy admitted a few hours ago lost his family in a wreck the kid was thrown clear but it looks like he was the only one of 2 kids to make it. Parents all 4 grandparents are gone and no other family or friends have shown up to claim the boy so” she gave a sad shrug “into the system he goes I guess”
“That stinks any word on finding this Hugh lady for my case?” he asked hopefully.
Matilda grimaced “we found her alright.”
“That look does not say it's good news.”
“It's not. Dorothea Hugh died last week ago of a heart attack. The mother likely told the kid she just wasn't gonna see her anymore to avoid having the cross that bridge with her 5 year old”
“So she is actually 5?” Rick tried to confirm
“That’s the worst part. According to er birth certificate today is her 5th birthday.”
Rick looked after the gurney as they wheeled the child away Matilda was right that was the worst part she lost her mother and was about to get put into the system as her 5th birthday gift. “come on Tilda she's got to have grandparents or an aunt or something?”
“I tried Rick you know I did. The father is unlisted on the birth certificate, Binki's parents and brother died on the way back from her grandparents funeral in London, they were flying back on September 11th, 2001”
“What? you don’t mean?!”
“Yep Binki was in collage and didn't go with the rest of them cause she had classes but her entire family was on the second plane.”
“So another child with no one in the world. What are the odds of 2 kids being completely orphaned in 1 day?"

I hope this is the correct sub for this, if not, kidly direct me to the right one. Now, let me start by saying, I have no knowledge in dream reading, multi universes or quantum mortality/immortality. I've only heard about it, maybe read an article about it, but I want to hear your thoughts on this...
I was having this dream and in it, I was driving home w a friend in her truck, it was night time. We were talking, catching up. I was in the passenger seat and she was driving. All of a sudden while I'm talking to her, I start panicking. I can see the road but I can see another layer, like im in another place, but I can still see where I am. In this other layer, im focusing in and out of it, like I'm im the car w my friend and Im also in this other place. What I see is I'm in a crowd during the day, Im with some person and we're downtown. We round a corner and hear shots being fired. Its a long stretch of road with businesses and more people. Everyone starts running and I see the shooter pointing down the direction where I am. I start running and screaming, "No, no, no no! Run" When I'm screaming I'm screaming in the car again w my friend in the original setting. I can see her driving, but I also see this street where Im running in a crowd full of people from this shooter. She starts freaking out and trying to talk to me, she asked what's going on and Im still screaming, "Its a shooter its happening, run, run!" And Im saying this as im sobbing and choking through my words. So Im in the crowd again, all the while I can hear my friend screaming asking whats wrong and it gets muffled out. I am north of the shooter and I am able to run around the shooter in the crowd and he begins to turn and shoot west where I just went w the crowd. I keep looking back as I run to make sure he isn't running or walking with/towards the crowd. He stays standing in the same place and I can see him shooting into the crown. I make it south of him then he begins to turn south and shoots. This time I keep looking forward. I can see the street w people, but I can also see myself in my friends car. I hear the shots go off behind me and people screaming even louder around me I look back, see him shoot, I turn my head as im running to look forward. Then I feel a burning in my neck. In that split second, I'm back in the car w my friend and I just slump over dead! Everything went black and in that moment I opened my eyes in real life and Im at home on the couch...
When everything goes black I see flashes of a funeral, news articles, my obituary, my friend screaming in the car, her driving to the hospital, the date Oct 20th (😱) and I can FEEL heartbreak, sadness, sorrow, all in a split second before my eyes flew open and I actually woke up...Usually if I have an intense dream I'll wake suddenly sometimes crying, hyperventalating, sad, still scared... but nothing? Even if I dream about getting cut or stabbed or something crazy, there is usually a lingering sensation when I wake. I even expected my neck to hurt when I woke, but nothing...
Maybe being in a dream state my psyche was able to tap into this other universe?? The emotions of the crowd and myself were so intense that it took over and I was able to "be" in these two parallel places?... I've always been open to the unexplained and I've heard a handful of stories similar to mine on podcasts or other places, this is very interesting to me, especially the fact that I saw a date. I also saw street names but I've tried google maps and there is no place where these two streets are in the same place? The streets were Research and Brackenridge, unsure of "street", "Lane", "Avenue", etc.. Now I do live in Austin Tx and we have these streets, but theyre in no way similar or near each other like they were in this other setting I experienced.
Anyways, let me know your thoughts! I appreciate any feedback! also did I flair this correctly? So much unsure-ness.

Advice...family's drama ahead:
My cousin cut off his mother (my aunt) from contact months ago; she's an elderly woman and had sent numerous people in the family some monetary gifts. Cousin was VERY upset and he turned off her cell phone, home phone. He was expecting a hefty inheritance and didnt want anything leaving the house. He had recently got power of attorney over her.
She had in the past help pay for my degree and promised to help pay my kids college too... and I knew eventually he would change her will if he found out.
No one in the extended family could contact her either, even our family in Europe couldnt reach her. My dad (her brother) called the non-emergency police line to do a wellness check up, and then he got sent a letter from an attorney to never contact her son or her again.
Obviously everyone is concerned, my aunt was a busy-body and loved to chat with everyone for hours daily, before the cut off my cousin had even taken away Christmas and church, she wasn't allowed to decorate or celebrate. (She was a super-religious Catholic). Which she would complain about often to my mother. My mom had thoughts that the cousin would drop off the aunt in a nursing home and move on with his life. She calls around in the city in AZ (We're in FL)and the first nursing home answers with "We're not allowed to to let anyone speak with her on family's orders." So we assume she's there, my mom sends her flowers in April for her birthday.
My dad, worried about his only sister... calls her church today, whom she used to be VERY involved in. Church tells my dad she passed away May 2nd.
We're obviously heart broken to have found out like this. I've checked obituaries, the family funeral plot... and I can't find any information. I just want peace of mind, that she passed.
What do I do?
TLDR: cousin cuts off wealthy aunt from family, doesn't notify anyone she's passed.

This is the first full day of the cross examination of Lucy Letby
Live coverage:
Sky news: https://news.sky.com/story/lucy-letby-trial-latest-nurse-accused-of-murdering-babies-giving-evidence-12868375
BBC: https://www.bbc.com/news/live/uk-65602988
Dan O'Donoghue: https://twitter.com/MrDanDonoghue/status/1659125588953559042?t=QRfj77SqRTDiq9eS4UTNFg&s=19
Chester Standard: https://www.chesterstandard.co.uk/news/23530215.live-lucy-letby-trial-may-18---prosecution-cross-examines-letby/
Following from Chester Standard:

Mr Johnson asks if Lucy Letby wishes to change any of her answers from yesterday. Letby: "No."
Mr Johnson asks if handover sheets were handed out to student nurses.
Letby said she would have handover sheets as a student nurse at some placements, but in the neonatal unit she cannot recall specifically. She tells the court it was not standard practice at the neonatal unit to hand out handover sheets to student nurses "for the time we are talking about".
Mr Johnson says one of the handover sheets, dated June 1, 2010, was in a keep-sake box with roses on the box, when Letby was a student nurse [Letby having started full-time employment at the hospital on January 2, 2012]. Letby says she cannot recall it.
Mr Johnson asks what is "unusual" about the handover sheet, and how it differs from the others.
Letby is unsure what Mr Johnson means.
Mr Johnson: "It is in pristine condition."
Letby: "It's the original?"
Mr Johnson: "Yes."
Letby: "Ok."

​

Mr Johnson says Letby took the sheet for June 23, 2016 home as it had notes of drugs for Child O and Child P.
Letby said there was documentation on there, but cannot be sure what details were on it.
Letby said she took the note home deliberately to bring it back the following day for finishing up writing of medications.
A copy of the handover sheet is circulated to the jury and Letby. Mr Johnson says he is interested in the back, on the medical notes.
Letby describes what is on the note - medication for Child P - caffeine. Nothing was written for Child O. No medications were noted for a third child.
Letby said she had taken it back with the paper towel, which had further details.
Letby is asked when the Morrisons work bag was placed under her bed. Letby says she cannot recall the Ibiza bag became her new bag after her trip to Ibiza around June 2016.
Letby is asked how the handover sheets ended up in her bag. She says after emptying her pockets, the sheets would end up in her work bag.
Nicholas Johnson: "You're ferrying work sheets to and from work."
Letby: "I can't say definitively."
NJ: "They must have been...why put them in that bag at all?"
LL: "I can't recall."
NJ: "Can't or won't?"
LL: "They were just bits of paper to me."

Inserting here from BBC:

"Why don't you want to tell the truth?" asks Nick Johnson KC, on the subject of handover sheets found at Lucy Letby's Chester home.
The defendant says they have "no meaning" and are "just pieces of paper".
"If they have no meaning, why did you keep them?" Mr Johnson asks.
Letby says she has accumulated "copious amounts of paper, cards" throughout "her whole life" and that these are "no different".
Mr Johnson mentions that handover documents were found in different bags in different places during the police search of her home. Letby says she was accumulating "paper, not their content".
"The question the jury may be interested in is why," Mr Johnson says.
"I have difficulty throwing anything away," Letby replies.
Letby says she accepts pieces of paper were taken between different areas and properties - "it's the paper I accumulate, not the content
Letby says she has difficulty throwing things away.

Back to Chester Standard:

NJ: "Is that why you bought a shredder?"
LL: "I bought a shredder for certain documents when I bought the house...predominantly bank statements."
NJ: "Why not the handover sheets?"
LL: "I wasn't aware I had them.
LL: "I wasn't thinking - they were just bits of paper."
Mr Johnson says the shredder was bought after Letby moved into her Chester home in April 2016.
LL: "They were insignificant."
NJ: "They are significant."
NJ: "They have the names of dead children on them."
LL: "They have the names of a lot of children on them - I agree I shouldn't have taken them home."

From BBC:

"Are you really asking the jury to accept that pieces of paper with information about dead children are insignificant?" asks Mr Johnson.
"Yes," Letby says.

​ Chester Standard

Mr Johnson asks about other work documents found in Letby's Morrisons work bag, such as a blood gas record for Child M.
NJ: "Were they insignificant?"
Letby says at the time the documents were insignificant, as they went home along with a lot of other documents for babies not on the indictment.
LL: "These have come home with me...not with any intention."
NJ: "You have taken them home."
Letby accepts the wording.
Mr Johnson asks if Letby recalls a colleague nurse's evidence for Child M on the blood gas reading.
Mr Johnson says she took it, wrote it on the chart, and disposed of it.
Letby is asked how she got the sheet, if it had been put in the [hospital's] confidential waste bin.
LL: "I can't recall specifically."
NJ: "It was for your little collection, wasn't it?"
LL: "No."

​

Mr Johnson asks why Letby purchased a shredder if she wasn't going to use it - was she on so much money she could make such purchases?
Letby, after saying she is not sure what finance has to do with this, says she used the shredder to shred bank statements.
"Why did you lie about [not having a shredder] in interview?"
Letby said she didn't recall having a shredder, it was not a significant item in her house.
"Like the pieces of paper?"
Letby agrees.
Letby, asked how she could have disposed of handover sheets, said to police in interview she did not have a shredder and, if she did, that would be how she would dispose of confidential documents.
Letby tells the court: "I can't recall at the time - I had just been arrested by police, locating a shredder wasn't on my mind."
Mr Johnson asks when the shredder was bought.
Letby says "shortly before this [police] interview - if I said it was bought recently."
Mr Johnson asks about a shredder box in Letby's parents' home, in her bedroom wardrobe. Letby said "it probably moved with me". She says she cannot recall "definitively" whether it was her parents' shredder.
Mr Johnson says "it was settled" that the box had the word "keep" written on it. Letby said that was to "keep the box and the shredder".
Mr Johnson: "But there is no shredder in the box"
Letby: "The shredder was elsewhere in the house".
Letby agrees her parents would not go in her room at their parents' place.
Mr Johnson asks why the word 'keep' would be written on the box in that event.
"I can't answer that."

​

Mr Johnson asks about a sympathy card written to Child I's family.
Letby is asked where she wrote the card.
Letby says she bought the card, but cannot recall where specifically she wrote it.
Letby says she wouldn't have written it on shift.
Letby is asked why the photo was taken when she was at work.
"The card is written, it has been taken to work to hand over to a colleague who is going to the funeral."
NJ: "Why did you take a picture at the place where the child...died in dreadful circumstances?"
Letby said the place the photo was taken was "insignificant", it was taken before the card was handed over to staff.
Mr Johnson: "Another thing that is insignificant?"
Letby: "I think that is taken out of context."
Mr Johnson: "Did it give you a bit of a thrill?"
LL: "Absolutely not."

​

Mr Johnson says in the defence, Letby's name is not referred to in the schedule surrounding the events for some babies.
"Are you suggesting the absence of your name [from the schedule]...is showing you hadn't had contact with the child?"
Letby agrees "...in terms of the documentation at that time." She agrees that does not record events such as minor nursing responses if a baby starts crying.
Letby says she has been to the unit on days off, such as finishing documentation that hasn't been done in the day, or seeing colleagues who have been on a course.
Letby says a record would be made as the swipe data would record her entrance, as the only way she could get into the unit.
Mr Johnson says for Child G, Letby did not leave work until 10am on September 7. Letby says: "That's not unusual."
A message is shown from 10.56pm on September 7 - Letby: "She looks awful doesn't she. Hope you get some sleep."
Letby said if there was a sick baby on the unit, "you would go and check on them, that's not unreasonable."
She had looked at Child G's charts, and accepts she was not on duty at that time. Letby said she had been in to finish some documentation.
Mr Johnson tells the court this was a "big day for" Child G, as it was her 100th day. Letby said: "Yeah she's declining bit by bit".
Mr Johnson says there is no record of Letby entering the unit.
He suggests Letby does not need a pass to gain entry to the unit.
Letby says she would need a pass to swipe in, and accepts: "Unless another colleague opened the door for me."
Letby adds if she had a legitimate reason to enter the unit, she would have entry accepted.
Letby is asked why she entered the unit at around 11pm, not earlier that day.
Letby: "It's quieter at night - I don't know, I can't say why I've gone in at night."

​ Added from BBC:

Nick Johnson KC turns to the subject of milk tube feeds for babies on the unit.
After asking Lucy Letby to explain the process, he asks if she's ever used a syringe plunger to speed up the flow of milk, which she denies.
"Is it a job for which you need to use both hands?" Mr Johnson asks - Letby agrees.
"Have you ever sent texts to your friends while you have been performing a tube feed?" he questions.
"Absolutely not, no," she replies.
She says it would be "inappropriate" and that she doesn't "see how you could do a feed without having both hands".
He proposes that if hospital records show she was identified as giving feeds at the same time as texting friends that she wasn't in fact giving that feed.
Letby says the feed charts are estimates to the nearest quarter or half past hour.
"What would take priority, texting your friends or feeding a child?" Mr Johnson asks.
"The baby, obviously," she replies.
Mr Johnson asks if Letby has ever texted her friends while a resuscitation is going on in the unit. She says such an act would be inappropriate if she was at the cot side but not if she were elsewhere.
"Is it appropriate to be texting friends while a resuscitation is going on?"
"If I'm not playing a part in that, yes."
She denies Mr Johnson's suggestion she would have been "giving a commentary" to her friends while doing so.
"Do you know what I'm talking about?" he asks.
"No."
"We'll come to it."

​ Chester Standard:

Mr Johnson asks about staffing levels.
Letby agrees that babies in room 1 are not necessarily always intensive care babies, or that babies in room 2 are always high dependency babies.
Mr Johnson says if the jury conclude a baby was attacked, then it would be the attacker who was the common link
Letby: "Just because I was on shift doesn't mean I have done anything."
Mr Johnson says if the jury conclude attacks happened in four cases, then the common link between them all would be the attacker.
LL: "That is for them to decide."
NJ: "On principle, do you agree?"
LL: "I don't think I can answer that."

​ Added from BBC:

Lucy Letby is asked about people she worked with in the neonatal unit, and if she had problems with any of her colleagues.
Nick Johnson KC questions Lucy Letby on a "conspiracy group" against her - four of Letby's colleagues, including doctors, who raised concern over a possible link to Letby's presence and incidents involving babies on the unit.
"What is the conspiracy?" Mr Johnson asks.
"That they have apportioned blame on to me," Letby replies.
Asked what the motive would be, she says: "I believe to cover failings at the hospital."
Mr Johnson indicates he'll give Letby the opportunity to explain what hospital failings were involved in each case against her.

​ Chester Standard:

Mr Johnson asks about Letby's colleagues.
Letby says she did not have a disagreement with Dr Gail Beech or Dr Andrew Brunton, and had a good working relationship with them.
For Dr Stephen Brearey, Letby said she did not have a problem with him at the time she was at work with him - she wrote a note calling him a profanity after she was redeployed, as he and Dr Ravi Jayaram "had been making comments" about Letby being implicated in the deaths of babies.
"They were very insistent that I be removed from the unit."Letby denies being in love with a doctor who cannot be named - "I loved him as a friend, I was not in love with him."
A note in Letby's handwriting is shown to the court. There is a suggestion the writing, previously said as 'Timmy', is 'Tiny Boy'.
Letby says her dog as a child had a nickname of 'Tiny boy', while another of her childhood dogs was named 'Timmy'.
Letby said she had no issues with other doctors on the unit, including Dr John Gibbs, Dr Sally Ogden, Dr Alison Ventress and Dr David Harkness.
For one other doctor, she said she did not have the best working relationship, but they got on.
For Dr Jayaram, "we had a normal working relationship".
NJ: "You searched for him on the internet."
LL: "I searched for a lot of people."

​

Letby says four doctors were in the 'conspiracy group', including Dr Jayaram, Dr Gibbs and Dr Brearey - "that they have apportioned blame on me".
Letby is asked about "failings in the hospital".
Letby is asked if Child F was poisoned with insulin.
"Yes I agree that he had insulin."
"Do you believe that somebody gave it to him unlawfully?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe that someone targeted him?"
"No."
"It was a random act?"
"Yes...I don't know where the insulin came from."
"Do you agree [Child L] was poisoned with insulin?"
"From the blood results, yes."
"Do you agree that someone targeted him specifically?"
"No...I don't know how the insulin got there."
Letby adds: "I don't believe that any member of staff on the unit would make a mistake in giving insulin."

From BBC:

"Mistake not possible in this case, is it?" Mr Johnson says.
"No," Letby replies.

Chester Standard:

The judge asks if that is the case for Child F.
Letby agrees.
She denies it was her who administered the insulin.
Letby is asked about the dangers of unprescribed insulin.
Letby: "It would cause them to be unwell, it would cause them to be hypoglacaemic... seizures, apnoea, even death."

​

Letby is asked about her training which, when completed, allowed her to care for intensive care babies.
Letby is asked if that meant she would have access to room 1 more often than before. Letby agrees.
The training involved education about lines, access, and the complication of air embolous, the court hears.
Letby said she had heard of air embolous by the time police interviewed her.
She tells the court: "All staff know that air introduced...can lead to death."
NJ: "Everybody knows the danger of air embolous."
LL: "I can't speak for everyone."

​

Child A

Mr Johnson asks about the case of Child A.
Letby says she did have independent memory of Child A.
"Before [Child A], had you ever known a child to die unexpectedly within 24 hours of birth?"
LL: "I can't recall - I'm not sure."
Letby says she can recall "two or three" baby deaths prior at the Countess of Chester Hospital, and "several" at her placement in Liverpool Women's Hospital.
Mr Johnson says Letby had previously told police it was "two" at Liverpool. Letby says her memory would have been clearer back then.

​

Letby says it was discussed at the time Child A's antiphospholipid syndrome could have been a contributing factor at the time.
Letby tells the court "in part", staffing levels were a contributing part in Child A's death, due to a lack of fluids for four hours and issues with the UVC line.
She says they were "contributing factors", and put Child A "at increased risk of collapse".
"I can't tell you how [Child A] died, but there were contributing factors that were missed."
Letby says the issues with Child A's lines "made him more vulnerable", with one of the lines "not being connected to anything".
Letby is asked why she didn't record this on a 'Datix form'.
LL: "It was discussed amongst staff at the time...I didn't feel the need to do a Datix, it had been raised verbally with two senior staff, one Dr Jayaram, one a senior nursing staff."
She adds: "I don't know why [Child A] died."
Letby says if the cause of death was established as air embolous, then it would have come from the person connecting the fluids, "which wasn't me".

​

Mr Johnson: "Do you accept you were by [Child A] at the time he collapsed?"
LL: "I accept that I was in his cot space, checking equipment, yes...I was in his close vicinity."
NJ: "Could you reach out and touch him?"
LL: "I could touch his incubator - the incubator was closed."
NJ: "Could you touch his lines?"
LL: "No."
Letby says "there's no way of knowing" from the signatures, who administered the medication between the two nurses, Letby or nurse Melanie Taylor.
Dr David Harkness recalled to the court: "There was a very unusual patchiness of the skin, which I have never seen before, and only seen since in cases at the Countess of Chester Hospital."
Letby disagrees with that skin colour description for Child A.
She agrees with Dr Harkness that Child A had "mottling", with "purple and white patches".
Letby says she cannot recall any blotchiness.
"I didn't see it - if he says he saw it...that's for him to justify.
"It's not something I saw.
"I was present and I did not see those."

​

Dr Ravi Jayaram said Child A was "pale, very pale", and referred to "unusual patches of discolouration."
Letby: "I don't agree with the description of discolouration, I agree he was pale."
Letby disagrees with the description of Child A being blue, with pink patches 'flitting around'.
An 'experienced nurse of 20 years', who the court hears was a friend of Letby, said: "I've never seen a baby look that way before - he looked very ill."
Letby agrees Child A looked ill. She disagrees with the nurse's statement of the discolouration, or the blotchiness on Child A's skin.
"I agree he was white with what looked like purple markings."
Letby agrees with the statement that the colouring "came on very suddenly".

​

Mr Johnson refers to Letby's police interview, in which Letby was asked to interpret what she had seen on Child A.
Letby explained to police mottling was 'blotchy, red markings on the skin'
"Like, reddy-purple".
Child A was "centrally pale".
In police interview, Letby was asked about what she saw on Child A. She said: "I think from memory it [the mottling] was more on the side the line was in...I think it was his left."
Letby tells the court she felt Child A was "more pale than mottled".
She says it was "unusual" for Child A to be pale and to have discolouration on the side", but there was "nothing unusual" about the type of discolouration itself.
Mr Johnson asks about the bag being kept for testing.
Letby says she cannot recall if she followed it up if the bag was tested. She had handed it over to the shift leader.
Letby is asked if she accepts Child A did not have a normal respiratory problem. Letby agrees.

​

Mr Johnson asks if Letby has ever seen an arrhythmia in a neonate. Letby: "No, I don't think so, no."
Mr Johnson says air bubbles were found in Child A afterwards.
"Did you inject [Child A] with air?"
"No."
Mr Johnson asks if Letby was "keen" to get back to room 1 after this event.
Letby says from her experience at Liverpool Women's, she was taught to get back and carry on as soon as possible.
Letby had been asked what the dangers of air embolus were, and she had not known.
"Were you playing daft?"
"No - every nurse knows the dangers."
Letby said she did not know how an air embolous would progress, but knew the ultimate risk was death.

​

The trial is now resuming. Nicholas Johnson KC says there is one thing he overlooked from the morning's evidence.
He asks Lucy Letby why she said "blotchiness" rather than "mottling" in part of her police statement.
"I think they are interchangeable," Letby tells the court.

​

Child B

Asked if staffing levels or mistakes had contributed to the collapse of Child B, Letby says she does not know what caused Child B's collapse.
She says she does not recall Child B's father lying on the floor following Child B's collapse.
A text message from Letby includes:...'Dad was on the foor crying saying please don't take out baby away when I took him to the mortuary, it's just heartbreaking."
Letby says she does not recall that.
Letby says in this case, she did not want to care for Child B so soon after the death of Child A, as unlike the Liverpool example she had been taught of 'getting back on the horse' (Mr Johnson's words) and being back in nursery room 1, this was with the same family.
Letby accepts Child B did well on the day shift of June 9.
Letby is asked if Child B's parents 'stood guard' in the unit following the death of twin, Child A.
Letby: "They were very much present on the unit and we allowed for that."
A diagram for the night shift of June 9-10 shows Letby was in nursery room 3 for that night shift, looking after two babies. Child B was in room 1.
Letby says she "got on well" with all her nursing colleagues.
Letby recalls evidence from court by a nurse colleague on March 21, in which Letby had said working in nurseries 3 and 4 was "boring".
Letby tells the court: "I have never been bored [at work], I would never describe my work as boring."

​

Mr Johnson goes through the timeline of Child B's events.
A message from Letby to Yvonne Griffiths said: "...Hard coming in and seeing the parents".
Mr Johnson says she is "engaged in chit-chat with a friend" between 8.41pm-9.10pm on the night shift in a social context. Letby says that sort of conversation was not limited to just her.
Mr Johnson says further messages are exchanged between 9.12pm-9.32pm.
Letby says "all members of staff use their phones on the unit". She says it was "accepted".

From BBC:

Nick Johnson KC shows the court a list of text messages which Lucy Letby sent to friends and colleagues whilst she was on shift.
He says: "I’m suggesting you were bored because you were engaging in chit chat on texts with friends."
Lucy Letby replies: "No that’s common practice on the ward, that's not unique to me."
Johnson adds: "I take it that staffing levels weren't an issue then?"
Lucy Letby says she can't speak for the other staff on the unit, but her babies were being adequately looked after at the time.

​

She says she cannot comment for the whole unit, but her designated babies were being cared for.
She says she does not believe there were staffing issues - "I can't see what's going on with the other babies [at this time]."
Further messages are exchanged involving Letby, some in a social context, up to 10.28pm.
Mr Johnson says in the middle of the block of messages, Letby signs for medication for a baby at 10.20pm. Letby says she didn't use her phone in clinical areas.
A "further block of messages" are exchanged on Letby's phone between 10.38-10.59pm.
NJ: "Were you bored?"
LL: "No."
NJ: "As a matter of fact, do you text a lot when in [room 3]?"
LL: "I text regardless where I am on shift."
NJ: "Even with an ITU baby [in room 1]?"
LL: "Yes, and I think everyone else would say the same if they were honest."
Letby says she was working in nursery 1 "at points" during the shift. She accepts that following Child B's collapse, she was in room 1.
A document for a TPN bag and lipid administration is signed by Letby, at 11.40pm on June 9.
Letby says an observation form at what appears to be 0010 has what Letby accepts could be her handwriting. It is similar to the writing in the next column, which is initialled by Letby.
A blood gas record is shown for 12.16am. Letby accepts she is there at that time as two nurses are needed to carry out the test.

​

Letby says she was "unsure" whether she or a colleague had alerted the other to Child B's deterioration.
LL: "I can't sit here and say definitively which way now, no."
NJ: "You injected [Child B] with air, didn't you?"
LL: "No I didn't."
Mr Johnson asks about Child B's appearance - Letby had earlier told her defence Child B "becoming quite mottled", "dark", "all over".
Letby was asked if she had seen that mottling before. "Yes, it was like general mottling that we do see on babies," adding: "It was not unusual" but it was a concern, in light of Child A's decline the night before.
Letby tells the court the mottling was more pronounced than usually found.
In police interview, Letby had said the mottling was more than seen on Child A, who was pale centrally.
"It was darker". Letby also said there was a "rash appearance".
Letby tells the court it was a "more pronounced mottling", but was still mottling.
NJ: "Are you saying this was normal?"
Letby says it was not normal, but something which would be seen. It was "more pronounced than general mottling". She says it "came very quickly", and in the context of Child A, everyone "acted very quickly".
Mr Johnson asks why a doctor asked for someone to get a camera.
LL: "In view of what had happened to [Child A] the night before...we did not want to take any chances."
Child B's mother describes the mottling event, and the consultant had "never seen this before", and the mother was "surprised" at this.
"Do you accept what [Child A and B's mother] said?"
LL: "I accept there was mottling, yes."
She says she does not recall the consultant saying that, as she was not there when it was said.
Letby tells the court she went "immediately" to get a camera, and when she returned, the mottling had gone.
A doctor had said Child B was a "very pale, dusky colour", and then developing widespread blotches...patches of a purpley-red colour.
Letby said she was not there at that point, as she may have been getting the camera. She says she did not see that on Child B. She says no conversation was ever had about that.
The judge asks if there was anything that could have led the doctor to be mistaken in her description.
Letby: "No, I just saw mottling."
Letby says the mottling was purpley-red.
Another doctor had described a blotchiness "to one side".
Letby says she did not "take over care" of Child B, from a senior nurse of 20 years experience. She says the senior nurse was busy with the family.
The court is shown Letby is co-signer for a number of medications following Child B's collapse, with the senior nurse.
Letby denies suggesting antiphospholipid syndrome was a cause of Child B's death.
Mr Johnson asks if Letby accepts Child A and Child B had air administered.
LL: "No."

​

Child C

Mr Johnson turns to the case of Child C.
Letby is asked to look at her defence statement.
Letby recalls she did not believe she was in room 1, and cannot recall how she ended up in room 1 - possibly it was as a result of Child C's alarm going off.
Letby, in her statement, said she had been involved in speaking to the family afterwards, but not to the extent Child C's mother had said.
Mr Johnson said a nurse had given evidence to say Letby had to be removed from the family room after Child C died.
Mr Johnson says Letby's "vague" recollection of events is untrue.
LL: "I don't agree with that."
NJ: "I'm going to suggest you enjoyed what happened, and that was why you were in the family room."
LL: "No."
Letby is asked why she did not remember Child C in police interview. Letby says she remembered once provided with further details.
She adds: "I don't know how [child C] died." She rules out staffing levels, medical incompetencies, or someone making a mistake.

​

Mr Johnson says this is a case where one of the nursing notes, by Yvonne Griffiths, was 'misfiled' to a different baby, and was, after Child C died, refiled back to Child C.
Mr Johnson asks Letby if nursing notes, timestamped by their start and end, are editable.
Letby: "No."
The court hears because of this, the note had to be re-entered into the system.
The rewritten note is shown to the court.
The note is for the June 12 day shift. It includes: '...no apnoeas noted and caffeine given as prescribed. Longline inserted by Dr Beech on second attempt...[Child C] unsettled at times soothes with pacifier and enjoyed kangaroo [skin-to-skin] care with parents."
A nursing note by Joanne Williams is shown to the court for Child C on the day shift: '...[Child C] very unsettled and fractious...[Child C] taken off CPAP while out having skin to skin with mummy. Calmed down straight away with mummy...'
Letby agrees this was a "positive picture" for Child C.
Child C was on CPAP breathing support to 10am, then was taken off it for a couple of hours, then was on Optiflow breathing support for the rest of his life.

From Sky News:

Court documents show Lucy Letby was looking after a baby in nursery three at the Countess of Chester hospital during the night shift of 13-14 June 2015, while Child C was in intensive care nursery one.
Nick Johnson KC suggests to Letby that this was "another shift" where she "migrated" from a nursery for babies with lower dependencies back into nursery one.
Letby agrees but says it was only "in response to Child C's care needs".
"No, before Child C collapsed," Mr Johnson says.
"I don't have any recollection of that," Letby replies.
The shift leader on duty previously told the court she had to order Letby to look after her designated baby rather than get herself involved in other children.
"Is that true?" Mr Johnson asks. Letby says she doesn't remember the conversation.
"I'm going to suggest you were unhappy with the arrangements she'd made that dictated where you were working, do you agree?" he asks.
Letby concedes she was unhappy but it was down to the decision of a previous shift leader.

Chester Standard, for the same evidence:

Mr Johnson moves on to the shift in which Letby was present. A shift rota is shown to the court, showing Letby was looking after two babies that night on June 13. She was in nursery room 3, with Child C in room 1 that night.
Mr Johnson says this was another shift when Letby had "migrated" to room 1.
Letby: "Yes, in response to [Child C's] care needs." She says she has no recollection of going to see Child C prior to his collapse.
Letby says she was unhappy at being in room 3 for that shift - as opposed to room 1 - but that was the decision of the prior shift leader.
Letby's nursing colleague had said Letby's designated baby in room 3 needed attention, after Letby had asked if she could be redeployed to room 1 that night.
Letby: "Yes, [they] did need attention and I gave [them] attention."
Letby had sent a message to Jennifer Jones-Key: "I just keep thinking about Mon. Feel like I need to be in 1 to overcome it but [colleague] said no x"
JJK: "I agree with her don't think it will help. You need a break from full on ITU. You have to let it go or it will eat you up i know not easy and will take time x"
LL: "Not the vented baby necessarily. I just feel I need to be in 1 to get the image out of my head, Mel has said the same and [colleague] let her go. Being in 3 is eating me up, all I can see is him in 1"
"It probably sounds odd but it's how I feel X"
JJK: "Well it's up to you but don't think it's going to help. It sounds very odd and I would be complete opposite. Can understand [colleague] she trying to look after you all"
LL: "Well that's how I feel, from when I've experienced it at women's I've needed to go straight back and have a sick baby otherwise the image of the one you lost never goes. Why send Mel in if she's trying to look after us, She was in bits over it. X
"Don't expect people to understand but I know how I feel and how I've dealt with it before, I've voiced that so can't do anymore but people should respect that X"
JJK: "Ok x
JJK: "I think They do respect it but also trying to help you. Why don't you go in one for a bit. X"
LL: "Yeah I've done couple of meds in 1. I'll be fine X"
JJK: "It didn't sound like you would be? Sorry was eating my tea x"
LL: ...Forget i said anything, I'll be fine,It's part of the job just don't feel like there is much team spirit tonight X"
JJK: "...I'm not going to forget but just think your way to hard on yourself. It is part of the job but the worst part but I do believe it makes us stronger people."
LL: "Unfortunately I've seen my fair share at the women's but you are supported differently & here it's like people want to tell you how to think/Feel. Anyway. Onwards & upwards. Just shame i'm on with Mel & [colleague].Sophie in 1 so haven't got her to talk to either."
JJK: "Work is work.
A lot of the girls say women's don't support and tell them to get on with it. I think they don't mean to tell you thou and were over caring sometimes
Yeah that's not good but you got Liz x"
LL: "Women's can be awful but I learnt hard way that you have to speak up to get support. I lost a baby one day.and few hours later was given another dying baby just born in the same cot space. Girls there said it was important to overcome the image. It was awful but by.end of day i realised they were right. It's just different here X
"Anyway, forget it. I can only talk about it properly with those who knew him and Mel not interested so I'll overcome it myself. You get some sleep X"
Letby accepts there were two babies in room 1, but does not accept she was specifically wanting to look after Child C.
Letby tells the court: "It wasn't about me wanting to get my own way."
Letby accepts she was upset, "just generally", that her feelings weren't being considered by a colleague and Melanie Taylor.
Mr Johnson says if this was the Melanie Taylor who Letby had said "potentially" caused a child's death. Letby: "Potentially, yes."
JJK: "That's a bit mean isn't it. Don't have to know him to understand we've all been there. Yep off to bed now x"
LL: "I don't mean it like that, just that only those who saw him know what image i have in my head X
"Forget it. Im obviously making more of it than I should X"
Letby tells the court she had hoped Jennifer Jones-Key would have been more understanding to how she was feeling, and was frustrated, and the conversation was not going anywhere, so she wanted to "leave the conversation".

​

Letby says colleague Sophie Ellis was the least experienced member of staff on that shift and "did not have the skills for the job" of looking after small, premature babies in room 1.
"I did not think she was qualified for the job...She did not have the skills for the premature babies [in room 1]."
She denies that Sophie Ellis did anything to cause Child C's collapse.
Mr Johnson: "She had something you wanted?"
Letby: "No."
The court hears Sophie Ellis's statement saying when she entered room 1, Letby was by Child C's cotside, saying: "He's just dropped..his heart rate/saturations" or words to that effect.
The court is shown the neonatal schedule for the night shift of June 13-14, 2015. Letby is shown recording observations for her designated babies, and made medication prescriptions for babies not in room 1.
Letby says the medications for those babies would have been drawn up in room 1. "They could not have been done in a special care nursery".
Letby says if Sophie Ellis has documented correctly, there would have been no air in Child C's stomach after an aspiration was made for the baby's feed.
Letby denies taking, in Mr Johnson's words: "an opportunity to sabotage [Child C]."
In police interview, it is put to Letby that Child C collapsed six minutes after she sent the last of her text messages.
Letby: "I don't recall where I was at the time" - Letby says she may have been in a nursing station before going into room 1.
Letby said she did not recall being cotside, but accepted Sophie Ellis's account at the time it was put to her by police.

BBC:

Johnson is now quoting from Letby's police interviews. In one she was asked about a message exchange with a colleague while on shift on 13 June.
The detective in that interview said: “The text messages suggest you were frustrated at not working in nursery one, do you agree?”
The defendant said: “Yes, I think it would have helped me if I could have been in nursery one.”
Johnson asks if she was frustrated. Letby says she was disappointed.
She's asked if she has accepted the evidence of nurse Ellis, that she saw Letby at baby C's cotside.
"I haven't accepted it, I've said I don't recall," she said.

Chester Standard:

"The death of [Child C] was very memorable, wasn't it?"
"Yes."

Court has concluded for the day, reporting appears to be concluded as well.

The letter comes the week after your funeral. I only notice it because of the hand written description of The bereaved Wife.
The envelope contains no note of sympathy, instead a Polaroid and an article that looks like a newspaper clipping. Both the photo and article are aged, yellowing and curling at the edges, but the picture itself is clear, just are the words on the newspaper. “Husband and wife perish in house fire: Two bodies have been recovered from a house on Jingle street, where a fire broke out around 9pm last night. It is not confirmed yet, but the bodies are believed to be that of Charles and Debbie Fosher. Neighbour’s are helping police with their enquiries and at this stage the fire is not deemed as suspicious.”
The photo in the newspaper article is the same photo as the Polaroid, it shows a young man in a suit and tie, standing tall and proud next to a raven haired young bride. They are smiling at the camera, and I can imagine them saying cheese! In union, as the photographer clicked the camera and captured the image. The man is my husband, but the wife is not me.
I have never seen the raven haired girl before and my husband had never mentioned being married before, let alone being dead and coming back to life under a different name. I log onto your computer and search for your obituary notice, but not the one I wrote for you, the one for Charles, who you were before me.
Until now, despite it all, I believed this was all wrong, but I began to truly remember the beginning. It was so early on in our relationship, you were living with your roommate and I was in the city. We spent weekends together at my place, your preference as you told me your room mate was dodgy. I didn’t mind, I liked having you to myself.
On valentines day you told me you were interning overseas for three months, it meant your dream job. We celebrated with sizzling bottles of cheap champagne. You came home at the start of April, you had been hurt in a mugging and were scratched up. I remember seeing the gouges that ran deep on your arms, the nasty bump on your forehead and that was when I realized I loved you. I’d felt sick at the thought of loosing you.
Your camera, which held all of your travel photographs, and your backpack with your ID had been stolen, so you had to get everything new. You’d dropped out of the internship, moving in with me to my small city apartment, after your room mate had gone missing with your share of the rent and not so much as a note.
Three weeks ago you died in a car crash.
You were unrecognizable because of the impact, only identifiable by your wedding ring. I hear a floorboard squeak behind me.
I’m not alone.