Hell may be no further away than your welcome mat-unless fifteen-year-old Charli can keep the dead in Hell where they belong. Such a task seems impossible to young Charli who has spent her life thinking of herself as disabled. Charli can't lie. So if she tells you that you look good in something or that her neighbors have fumes rising from their skin, and they want to kill her, you know you must believe her. Charli will eventually see people differently and understand if they have evil intent. However, for the present, she can only see these odd fumes. And everyone with fumes wants to kill her. I jerk my hand away and the blinds cover me in time. "Mom, tell me the truth. What is with these people?" She doesn't answer. "Do they all want to kill me?" "Yes, they do."