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Please, Kit-Kat. Please. I’ll only take one. I promise.
“I don’t think Virginia intended to kill her,” Lenora eventually said.“I think my father was her sole target and that my mother got caught up in it somehow. Collateral damage. And I suspect my sister felt so guilty about it that she then tried to hang herself.”
“That’s why I’ve gone along with everything for so many years,” Archie said. “Here, Virginia is safe. Here, no one knows what she’s done. It’s for her own good. I believe that to my very soul.”
“That’s why I don’t let her go outside,” Lenora added. “And why we always refer to her as Miss Hope. If others found out who she is and what she did—what we continue to do—it could destroy Virginia. Imagine her in some state facility, wasting away. At least here she’s home.”
But Hope’s End isn’t a home. It’s a cage built of secrets. And Virginia’s not the only person trapped in it. Lenora and Archie are, too.
I refuse to join them. That’s why I now stand at the foot of Virginia’s bed. It’s time to say goodbye.
“I know who you are,” I tell her.
She gazes at me, unsurprised. In fact, I detect a hint of satisfaction in her eyes, as if she’s proud of me for sussing everything out.
“I also know you murdered your parents.”
Virginia lifts her left hand, ready to tap a response.
“Don’t,” I say, in no mood for a denial. But I also don’t want confirmation. In a sense, nothing has changed since my first night here. Despite assuming she was guilty, I was also hesitant to find out if I was right. Once the typing started, the opposite ended up happening. I began to assume she was innocent and became hell-bent on being proven correct. It turns out I was only fooling myself into believing what Iwantedto be the truth, even though deep down I knew it wasn’t.
It’s likely how my father felt right before he stopped speaking to me. The newspaper in his hand, the disbelief in his eyes, the telling himself the complete opposite of what he assumed deep down in his bones.
What they’re saying’s not true, Kit-Kat.
“I understand why you felt the need to do it,” I tell Virginia. “You had your reasons. And I hope you regret it now. You’ve had plenty of time to think about your actions. And I just wish—”
I stop, unable to articulate exactly how I feel. If there’s a word for feeling betrayed, foolish, and disappointed all at once, I’ve yet to learn it. Because the truth is, IlikedVirginia. Istilllike her, despite everything. That’s what makes this so hard.
It’s likely Mary reacted the same way when she found out, necessitating that typed apology from Virginia.
im sorry im not the person you thought i was
“I wish you’d been able to tell me everything yourself,” I say.
Instead, I got only hints and half-truths. Although she never outright lied to me, she never told me the whole story, either. It would have been so easy, too. A simple sentence, typed with her left hand, telling me that she was Virginia Hope, that everything I thought I knew was a lie, that she was guilty.
If she had done that, I might have been able to stay. The job was to take care of a killer. I knew that from the start. And I think I could have done that for as long as necessary. But now? Now I don’t think I’ll ever trust or believe Virginia again.
Which means my only option is to leave.
“Goodbye, Virginia,” I say. “I hope whoever’s assigned to care for you next never tries to learn the truth.”
Giving her a sad little wave, I move into my own room, forcing myself not to look at Virginia on the way out. I feel her stare anyway, the heat of her green eyes following me as I go. Then, as promised, I leave without packing.
No suitcase of clothes.
No box of books.
No medical bag.
I decide to arrange for Carter to bring them to me later. Or maybe I’ll just leave them here, joining Mary’s belongings. A growing collection of things abandoned by previous caregivers for the next unfortunate one to discover.
The only thing I take is my car keys, which I clutch in my hands as I hurry down the service stairs. The kitchen is empty, thank God. Idon’t know where Lenora or Archie went, and I don’t care. I’m in no mood to see them again, either. Before leaving, I go to the phone hanging on the wall and dial quickly, knowing either of them could enter as the phone rings and rings.
When my father finally answers, he sounds groggy and confused. I check the kitchen clock. It’s almost midnight. I woke him up.
“Daddy,” I say.