“Do you see what I do?”

“You do know what we’re dealing with here, don’t you?” I ask. “She’s not just a ghost. She’s a hurricane. Overkill is fine by me.”

“You know what you are, don’t you?” she asks. “You’re my salvation. My way to atone. To pay for everything I’ve done."“Anna,” I say. “Don’t ask me to do this.”

“It's like I'm trapped in one of those omniscient dreams where you just watch yourself do stupid shit, yelling at yourself about how stupid it is, and your dream-self just keeps doing what it's doing anyway.”

“Land of the Dead? Is that what you dream about?” she asks. “Boy who kills ghosts for a living?” “No. I dream about penguins doing bridge construction. Don’t ask why.”

“If this is mytstical, what the heck is Advil going to do about it?”

“I wish it didn’t have to hurt you,” she says. “Do you?”“Of course. Believe me, Cassio. I never wanted to be this tragic.”