I awake later to a quiet room, candlelight flickering on either side of me. I slowly begin to recognize the ornately decorated space as my eyes pan over to the fireplace, with its intermittent crackling of freshly cut wood. I'm still in the house. This is Atticus's room. But where is he? And why did he make me sleep again? Panic rises in my stomach and I have to breathe quickly to get any of air. I'm either dying or hyperventilating and now the room is starting to spin. I jerk up on ...