Page 111 of Arranged Addiction

It looks like it hasn’t been used in years. There’s dust on the banister and most of the furniture is covered by drop cloths. It smells musty and stale. I look around, wondering if my mother stood in this same spot, before I notice something hanging on the wall near the hallway.

It’s a photograph of a woman. She’s young and pretty. I frown a little, reaching out to touch it.

“Don’t do that.” Declan stops me. His grip on my wrist is firm.

“Look at her.” I’m trapped between horror and pure fascination. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

He seems uncertain. “Who are you talking about?”

“The woman in those pictures. It’s my mother.” The second I say it, I’m completely sure.

That’s her. No doubt in my mind.

She’s young. Her hair’s lighter than I remember. I have her nose and her cheeks. Her skin’s glowing and she’s laughing about something. There’s an ocean behind her even though she’s in jeans and a sweater. I’m guessing the beach in winter maybe, but it’s hard to say. The picture’s faded and clearly very old.

“There’s more.” Declan moves forward into the dining room. He snaps on a light and I have to cover my mouth to keep from screaming.

There are hundreds of pictures. Some of them are low-quality printouts. Others look like they were professionally developed. They’re stacked in layers almost like someone was using them for wallpaper. The sheer number of them is overwhelming, but as I move closer, squinting and staring, my heart feels like it completely stops.

All of them show my mother at various stages in her life.

I recognize her from the pictures Sheila showed me. A few of these look like they’re straight from our family photo album.

Some show friends and acquaintances, others include family members, but my mother is the focus of each and every one.

Her face is circled in some. In others, all the people except for her are scratched out. There’s one showing me when I was a baby, but my eyes are removed. Another where she’s leaning against my father, but his head’s been cut off. There are so many I feel like my legs are going to give out.

They’re stuck to the walls with tacks in swirls and explosions like the ground vomited up this documentary of my mother’s life.

I grab Declan’s arm to keep myself from falling over.

“I’ve got you,” he says, his voice calm and smooth. “It’s okay, baby, it’s going to be okay.”

“They’re her. They’re all her.”

His expression hardens. “You should go back outside.”

“No!” I try to pull away but he’s holding on tight. “No, I can’t go now. Look at all this. He’s been…”

“Obsessed,” Declan whispers darkly.

It crystallizes for me. The sharpness of it cuts my insides. Declan’s beautiful face stares around him, his expression unflinching and uncaring, almost like we’re standing in some museum instead of an exhibit of pure insanity.

This could’ve been him.

If circumstances had been different, maybe he might’ve been like this with me.

He certainly watched me from afar.

Except this, it’s pure insanity.

Suddenly, that letter my mother left makes more sense.

Senesi is a menace. His obsession went too far. It didn’t matter what I said or what I did. He couldn’t release me.

“He was in love with her.” The words are like bile in my throat. “That’s what she meant. He was in love with her and wouldn’t leave her alone.”

“She was afraid for herself.”