Page 69 of All the Things We Buried

“Fake.”

When the pain started to drown out my thoughts, I continued.

“Faith.”

But before I cut deeper, I turned toward the bath. The water was warm now, rising, waiting. I stepped in and lay down. Mybody sank slowly into the heat. I blinked, and in that single blink, I saw her.

Someone was above me.

The wet lady.

She haunted me.

Her hair hung in drenched strands, dripping cold water onto my face. I was too numb, too terrified to open my eyes again. So I tried to dive beneath the surface, to escape.

But her hands reached for my neck.

Her grip was ice, and all I could see was a heart-shaped medallion hanging from her throat.

I gasped, but blood water flooded my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. Every sound became distant. Every movement slowed.

Maybe this was my punishment.

Maybe this was how I was meant to die.

Maybe it was because I envied Sophie. Because she was better than me. Or maybe it was because I longed for Dorian’s touch in ways I shouldn’t. Maybe it was because loving him was killing me slowly. So slowly, I had to finish the job from the inside.

But nothing was dying.

I kept gasping. I kept trying to breathe.

And then, everything went quiet.

I just floated.

TWENTY ONE

DORIAN

Isat in the basement, staring at the photo of the chosen ones. Ezekiel, Vivian, Lenore, and I. A green background. A gold frame. Smiles stretched across our faces like we were some happy family.

But we were anything but that.

The wall where the old black phone used to hang was open now. I had to cut it myself. Behind the drywall, I found eighteen bodies, crammed like forgotten dolls. Faces I recognized from the missing persons flyers taped up after the robbery. Salt circled them and masked the stench, dried their skin until it looked paper-thin, enough to see the carved letters, identical to the ones Lenore carved to her skin.

But none of it matters now.

She’s gone.

And I’m the one left to bury what’s left.

She was broken. More than I ever was.

After a few pulled nails and some shattered ribs, Ezekiel finally confessed. He took her when she was just three. Said he and hiswife couldn’t have children. At first, she was meant to go behind the wall, like the others. But his wife got attached. Too attached. She built that room upstairs just for her.

What she didn’t know was that the room had already been there. And it had changed. It always changed.

For Ian and me, it was a hiding place.