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“Don’t you love Mother?” I said, trying hard to halt my tears.
“I do,” my father said. “In a very complicated way. Do you love her?”
“Of course.”
“Then it’s best not to tell her about this. It would kill her. And you wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“No, sir,” I replied, my eyes downcast because I couldn’t stand to look at him.
He chucked my chin like I was a baby. Or, worse, a dog. “That’s my good girl.”
As my father turned and left the ballroom, I almost called out that he was the parent I wanted dead. After all, he deserved it. I didn’t because I felt the need to behave like the good girl he expected me to be.
But here’s the thing--I wasn’t a good girl.
Not in the least.
You’ll see for yourself very soon.
ELEVEN
Sleep doesn’t come easy.
Granted, I never sleep well the first few nights with a new patient. Different room. Different bed, some more comfortable than others. Different house, with all its unique nocturnal sounds. At Hope’s End, the dominant night noises are the ocean and the wind—a discordant duet that keeps me awake. The waves are low and steady, crashing into the cliff below with a rhythm that would be soothing if not for the wind, which hits the house in irregular gusts. Each blow rattles the windows and shimmies the walls, which in turn creak and groan, reminding me where I am.
A mansion teetering on the edge of the ocean.
Inside of which is a woman most people assume murdered her family.
A woman who has now offered to tell me everything.
The pattern repeats itself. Thinking about Lenora, being lulled to sleep by the waves, then startled awake by the wind. Every time it hits, I grip the edge of the mattress, certain I can feel the house leaning toward the sea. But then the wind calms, my thoughts roll, the waves continue, and the whole process starts anew.
This goes on until I hear another noise.
Not the wind.
Not the waves.
It sounds like a floorboard, emitting the faintest of creaks.
I sit up and scan the room, looking for—well, I don’t know what to expect. An intruder? A burglar? The mansion beginning its inevitable slide into the Atlantic? But there’s nothing to see. I’m the only person in the room, making me conclude it was just the wind causing Hope’s End to creak in a way I hadn’t yet heard.
I crawl out of bed, crack open the door to my room, and peer into the hallway. Right now, it’s empty. Knowing I could have just missed someone passing by, I step into the hall and listen for the sound of departing footsteps or a door closing.
“Hello?” I say, my voice hushed. “Is someone out here?”
No one answers.
Not another sound is heard.
Until I return to my bedroom.
When the creaking resumes, I realize exactly where it’s coming from.
Lenora’s room.
I press my ear to the door between our rooms, listening for signs of movement. Again, there’s nothing. Just nocturnal silence and a sliver of moonlight from Lenora’s room slipping through the crack between the door and the floor.