No one knows what to make of poor Maggie Evans. Normally a vivacious young woman full of spitfire and vinegar, she has been ill for several days. She wakes late and only when her father rattles her cage. She is weak and pale and unable to go to work. She doesn’t want to eat or drink anything. She sleeps the entire day away. She cries and complains of being cold. She has a pain in her neck (a real one, not her drunken father or strapping boyfriend). But worse than how she feels during the day is how she acts at nightfall.
Maggie feels better. Strong. Energetic. Ready to be up and about. Making pleasant conversation. Just as suddenly, she turns angry. She snaps at her father. She quakes at the sound of the howling dogs. She tries to sneak out of her house. She tells her boyfriend that she doesn’t need a babysitter, that she doesn’t want him for a boyfriend. She fights the doctor. She screams to be left alone.
And then there are those two puncture wounds on her neck that no one can explain.
My funny husband says he’s seen it before, thinks it all sounds like a bad case of PMS… and said that maybe he should check to the necks of the women living in his house. Like I said, he’s funny.
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