Annabelle’s mind felt like it was floating in a murky haze.

A sharp, insistent shaking pulled her back from the dark recesses of unconsciousness.

Her head lolled to the side as she cracked her eyes open, her vision blurred and her throat dry.

“Annabelle, wake up,” a voice urged, and a jolt of recognition snapped her eyes wide open.

That voice.

Patrick Shaw.

Her head spun, and a sickly sweet taste coated her tongue, making her stomach churn.

She tried to sit up, but her limbs felt weighted, sluggish.

Turning her head, she froze as she saw Cathy crumpled like a discarded doll on the floor a few feet away....