Page 8 of All the Things We Buried

SEVEN

DORIAN

M y eyes opened slowly, and the attic was still in the dark, except for a few rays of sunshine brushing across my face. The first thing I saw was Lenore.

She was sitting on the floor beside the mattress, her body leaning forward. Her long, dark hair spilled across my chest. For a second, I thought I was still dreaming. But her breath was steady, and her eyes were wide open, watching me.

“Vivian wants you to come down for breakfast,” she said, standing up.

I blinked, trying to shake off the confusion. Realizing she wasn’t a dream made my stomach turn slightly. I pushed myself upright, still feeling the stiffness in my shoulders.

Nagi slithered from under the sheet. At the sight of her, Lenore screamed and stumbled back. I couldn’t stop laughing.

“Scared?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

She didn’t respond immediately. She took a few cautious steps forward, then stopped.

“No,” she finally said. “Just surprised. That’s all.”

I rolled my eyes and lifted Nagi into my hands. She coiled lazily around my fingers.

“She’s harmless,” I said. “Tell Vivian I’ll be down soon.”

Lenore nodded and turned, rushing down the stairs without looking back.

I glanced at Nagi. Her tongue flicked the air.

“Did she hurt your feelings?”

I placed her back into the white plastic tank beneath the heat lamp.

Turning away, I looked down at the floor, trying to remember how I had even fallen asleep last night. Everything was a blur. Nothing came to mind, not even the moment I had closed my eyes. It felt like someone left a fog where memory should have been.

I walked down the attic steps into the hallway. It was too quiet. As I passed, I noticed a door that hadn’t been there before. My chest tightened. From behind the door came the soft sound of music—I recognized it immediately.

It was Für Elise .

But as I stepped toward the door, it vanished, and I was back at the edge of the staircase. The music still played, so I followed the sound, moving down the main staircase into the sitting room.

There, Lenore sat at the piano, completely focused. Her posture was perfect, her back straight, her hands gliding across the keys. Light filtered in through the tall windows, casting soft lines across the floor. She almost looked holy, but nothing holy lived in Gloomsbury Manor.

She looked different in the sunlight. Healthier. Almost glowing.

I approached slowly, watching her fingers as they danced across the keys.

“I used to play,” I said. “But I stopped when I turned twelve.”

She didn’t respond at first. The song continued without interruption.

“I didn’t really have a choice,” I added, quieter now.

“I heard if two people know the same notes, they can speak through music,” she said softly, thenpaused. One wrong note, quickly corrected.

“And if you ever can’t talk,” she added, “you can leave me music instead.”

I watched her profile, the curve of her cheek, the stillness in her shoulders.

“You really think you know me already?” I asked.

“They told me,” she said, still facing forward. “They said you didn’t speak for years. That maybe you wouldn’t ever again.”

Then she turned her head. Her ocean eyes found mine.

“I like your voice.”

I didn’t answer right away.

I just smiled, a little lopsided.

“You’re trouble,” I said.

She gave the faintest smile and then looked back down at the keys. Her fingers resumed playing.

So young.

And still, I felt like I’d known her my whole life. Or maybe I just saw the parts of myself buried in her silence.

I turned away from her and walked toward the kitchen.

The kitchen hadn’t changed. Same tiled floor, same copper pots no one ever used, same smell of expensive nothing. I sat at the table, my hands on the edge of the wood, waiting.

Vivian entered moments later. She sat across from me, her lips were red as always, her eyes scanning mine for answers. She lit a cigarette with a snap and drew it to her lips, watching me over the smoke.

“How did you escape?” she asked casually.

I smirked. “Ghosts.”

She exhaled through her nose. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

I nodded once.

A maid entered quietly, placing a plate of bread and a dish of butter on the table. She didn’t speak. Didn’t look anyone in the eye. Just lowered her head and left.

Moments later, Lenore came with her father. He reeked of smoke and bourbon, and Lenore had that smell of lavender that kept calming me down. Lenore sat without a word. She didn’t look at Vivian. Not once. And Vivian didn’t acknowledge her either.

Vivian poured me a cup of coffee, her long nails tapping gently against the porcelain.

“You’ll find the attic good for you,” she said smoothly. “It clears the mind.”

I reached for a piece of bread, dragging the butter across it. My hand paused halfway through.

“Is that what it did for Ian?” I asked without looking up.

Her face didn’t change. Not entirely. Just a tiny twitch in the corners of her lips.

“Ian made choices,” she said. “We all live with them.”

Across the table, Lenore’s head moved up. Her blue eyes locked onto mine.

“She talks to him,” she whispered.

Vivian froze.

Lenore didn’t break her stare.

“In the mirror,” she said. “She said his name.”

I stood slowly. My fingers curled around the edge of the table.

“Who said his name?” I asked.

“The girl who doesn’t leave,” Lenore said. Her voice was too calm. “The one in white. With the cut throat.”

Vivian’s voice sliced in. “That’s enough.”

But Lenore kept going. “She lives in the walls. She watches you sleep. And she said your brother is still here.”

Vivian slammed her hand down on the table. The plates rattled. The room went still.

She rose, smoothed the front of her dress, and offered me that same fake smile she always did when she wanted control.

“Dorian, take Lenore outside. The garden needs tending.”

I looked at the girl. She didn’t move.

“She needs the sun,” Vivian added. “And you need a shovel.”

So we did. She gently got up, and I followed. We walked in silence through the back door and down the stone path until we reached the gazebo. I sat on the stone edge, and Lenore stopped a few feet away, turned slowly, and then sat beside me without a word.

Red roses were all around us. Too red. Like they had fed on more than just soil. All of them faced the house.

Lenore looked toward the barn in the distance, then spoke so quietly I almost missed it.

“Sometimes I hear their screams.”

She shook her head, eyes fixed. “But no one believes me.”

I looked at her, at those ocean-blue eyes, and said, “I believe you.”

She swallowed hard.

“Do you know,” she whispered, “do you know why they don’t leave?”

I shook my head. “Maybe it’s the house. Maybe it’s just our minds messing with us.”

“Does that mean I’m crazy?” she asked, blinking twice, like she already believed the answer.

I looked back at the house.

“Aren’t we all?”

She folded her arms. “I think ghosts are just afraid to leave. And the living are afraid to stay.”

“Maybe,” I said, rising to my feet.

The wind stirred the roses. They moved like something breathing beneath the ground.

Vivian was watching us from the window, her eyes trying to reach mine as her hands held a teacup too close to her body. Her eyes didn’t blink. They just tracked us.

“How long have you been sick?” I asked Lenore.

She tilted her head. “How do you know I’m sick?”

I shrugged. “Just a hunch.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “I guess I’ve always been a little tired.”

“Do you drink the bedtime tea?”

“Every night,” she said.

I smirked. “How about I bring you new tea from now on?”

She gave me a look, then smirked back. “Are you trying to poison me, brother?”

I laughed. “Maybe.”

I paused, watching her carefully. “Would you drink it?”

She grinned, stepping away toward the rose bushes. She plucked one in full bloom and brought it to her lips.

“Maybe,” she whispered, then disappeared around the side of the house.

I turned and walked back to the house, entering through the side door near the kitchen. Vivian was already there with her arms crossed, and her lips pressed tight.

She didn’t bother with a greeting. “Why are you really back?”

“Business,” I said, brushing past her.

Her hand snapped out and caught my wrist before I could move any further.

“Dorian,” she hissed. “Ezekiel doesn’t want you here. Neither do I. But you know, things I had preferred to stay buried. So I’ll let you stay. But the second you open your mouth—“ she leaned in, “you’re out.”

I smiled.

“Sure,” I said.

I slipped my arm free. She stared at me like I was that little boy she used to know, and now, no longer recognized. That scared her. It thrilled me.

Furious, she leaned back against the counter. I left her there and walked into the living room.

Ezekiel was on the staircase, flirting with the housemaid who was dusting the railings. His hand slid up her skirt, and she just smiled, giggling softly. He winked. Like this house had no rules.

The doorbell rang.

My stomach tightened for a moment. Cops? Something worse?

I moved to the door and peeked through the side window. Just a girl. About Lenore’s age. She had her blonde hair tied in a ponytail, wearing a white dress, and holding two pairs of roller skates in each hand.

I opened the door slowly.

She blinked at me, mouth slightly open. I thought I saw a thin line of drool slip from the corner of her lips.

“Is... Lenore... here?” she asked, the words a little delayed, like her tongue didn’t want to cooperate.

“Yeah,” I said, stepping aside. “Come in.”

She entered with awkward steps, eyes scanning the room, but they landed on me again. Stuck there.

Then Lenore came running in, bright-eyed for the first time all day.

“Sophie!” she beamed. “Are you going to teach me to roller skate today?”

Sophie nodded, still glancing back at me between smiles. She leaned into Lenore and whispered something. I caught my name. Or at least the shape of it.

Lenore just giggled.

Great.

I leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.

She has a crush on me.

Cute.

But no chance.

I sat on the front porch, trying to lose myself in a book, but I wasn’t really reading. I couldn’t.

Around the house, I could hear Lenore and Sophie circling again and again in their roller skates, laughing like the whole world belonged to them. They flew past the doorframe for what must have been the thirtieth time, lollipops stuck between their teeth, voices high with sugar and joy.

I tried to stay patient.

Turned another page I hadn’t even looked at.

But the sound of those wheels grinding over the floor and their giggles cutting through the air scraped at something in me.

I looked up, fixing my eyes on Lenore.

“Hey, Trouble. Will you stop?”

She slowed, smiled at me, and asked, “Stop what?”

“That,” I said, pointing at her skates.

“Okay, fine,” she replied, dragging the words over her tongue, then put the lollipop back into her mouth and moved toward the stairs.

For a second, I thought she was going to listen.

Instead, she turned around and started skating again, this time slower, tighter circles right at the front door. Just to spite me.

I breathed in, deep and slow, trying to hold onto what little calm I had left. They both giggled like they had cracked some code to drive me insane.

I stood up without a word, walked to the front door, and shut it in their faces.

“Bye-bye,” I said through the glass, giving them a wave.

Brat.

If I had known she would annoy me this much, I would’ve stayed in the attic with the dust and the ghosts. At least they didn’t laugh so loud.