If she could turn her head, even a little, she'd be able to see it better. But she knows it's there.
Casting her eyes round the room, she can make out more detail. Ghostly toys are stuffed onto shelves, long shadows point to an open draw, a sock maybe spilling out. The octopus turns out to be a mobile and something has flopped over the top of the wardrobe.
Fiona tries to get her bearings while she tries to turn her head because she knows it's there, right there, in the room with her. She can't see it or hear it or smell it but that's how she knows it's there.
