I never thought that a few careless words scrawled on a piece of paper could put two people in graves...

Panic now. Like a big, black vulture spreading his wings over me, hovering. Always there, waiting for me.

I screamed. Shredding my throat yet again. I scrabbled and clawed at the top of the coffin and thrashed back and forth, banging my shoulders against the sides of the box. The crate, Kyle called it.

God, I had to calm down. Stop. Please, please stop, Cass.

I had to live through this night.

Could I sleep? Would I wake up again? How do you sleep when you keep panic away with pain?

No, I couldn't sleep.

But, I would calm down.

What was that song my mother sang?

 
Front, petit front
Yeux, petits yeux
Nez de croquant
...
Quiriquiqui.

I would sing that song. I would breathe in and out.

I would live through this night.