“SO,” SAID BILLY DOHENY’S FRIEND KATE. “Tell me everything.”
Billy had been out of Happy Grounds Home for less than a month, but his time there already seemed a strange combination of dreamlike and immediate, as though it had happened yesterday but in someone else’s life. His voices were still talking to him, but they had somehow become more innocuous, like a chronic ache that had been there long enough it no longer defined who you were. He wondered how long before the voices defined him again.