Page 117

It makes me wonder if my parents knew about it. Probably not. I’d like to think that had my father been aware of a secret staircase in the back of Baneberry Hall, he would have put it in the Book. It would have been too appropriately Gothic to resist.
I climb the steps slowly, taking them one at a time. I have no idea where they lead, and that makes me nervous. So nervous that the flashlight I’m gripping trembles, casting a jittery glow on the stairwell walls.
After a dozen steps, I reach a landing that could be right out of a Hammer film. It’s small and creaky, with a skein of cobwebs in the corner. I pause there, disoriented, with no clue how far I’ve climbed or where I am inside the house.
I get a better idea once I ascend twelve more steps and a second landing, which would put me firmly on the second floor. There’s a door here as well—similar to the one hidden behind the ivy. Smooth and featureless, save for another bolt keeping it shut.
I slide the bolt.
I pull the door.
Beyond it is a closet of some sort.
The flashlight’s beam lands on several little white dresses hanging inside. Behind them is a thin slice of light.
More doors.
Reaching past the dresses, I push them open and see a bedroom.
Mybedroom.
I stumble through the doors and rotate around the room, seeing my bed, my suitcases, the knife sitting atop my nightstand.
Then I see the armoire.
The doorway through which I’ve just emerged.
Shock overwhelms me. I stare at the armoire, uncomprehending, when in truth the situation is easy to understand.
There is a direct route from outside into the bedroom.
It’s why my father had felt it necessary to nail those boards across the armoire doors.
It’s how Hannah Ditmer got into the house unnoticed and without disturbing the doors and windows.
It’s how anyone with knowledge of the passageway can get inside.
Another wave of shock strikes. A real wallop that leaves me tilting sideways, on the verge of being bowled right over.
This entrance into Baneberry Hall isn’t new. It’s been around for decades. Likely since the place was built.
Someone had access to this room back when we lived here.
When I slept here.
It wasn’t Mister Shadow who crept into my room at night, whispering to me.
It was someone else.
Someone real.
JULY 14
Day 19
The first bell didn’t ring until shortly after two p.m.
The sound of it snapped me out of the waking stupor I’d been in and out of since sitting down the day before. In all that time, I’d barely moved. I hadn’t eaten. I certainly hadn’t showered. When I did leave my post, it was only to relieve myself. By midmorning, I’d even stopped doing that, fearful I’d miss an all-important bell chime. Now two bottles of my urine sat in a corner of the kitchen.