Page 1

Trey

Don’t ask Father where the bodies are buried.

At ten, I’d lost track. The housekeeper, the gardener, the tutor, the nanny?—

But there was one I’d never forget.

Mother took my hand and led me outside to the stars. We lay in the grass, the ground cool against our backs as Mother pointed out the constellations. Orion, Aries, Ursa Major, Cassiopeia. “As soon as I found out I was pregnant with you, I wanted to name you Aries.”

Her hand flattened over her belly as if she’d transported back to those days. Before I was born and became Father’s greatest disappointment.

“Why didn’t you?” Aries was a much better name than Trey. I wished that had been my first name, not my middle name. I wished I’d been named after the stars.

Her lips flattened together, so hard I thought they might bruise like her eye. She told me she’d hit it on the edge of the table when she’d bent down. “Your father liked the name Trey better. It’s a family name.”

“But you didn’t.”

Father may have expected her to feed and bathe me, but every decision made about how to raise me was his. My name, my education, my hobbies, my punishments. Even when he was too busy with the housekeepers and tutors, he always made time to tell Mother and me everything we did wrong.

Under the stars and moonlight, crickets chirped and fireflies flashed. My chest clenched as the warm night air hugged my bare arms and legs. I wasn’t ready for summer to be over. Wasn’t ready to be away from Mother. “I don’t want to go to boarding school next week.”

She knew I didn’t want to go. I’d been telling her so since Father made the announcement after last semester ended. My private school wasn’t good enough. I needed an education at the best boarding school in the country, hundreds of miles away.

Mother squeezed my hand. There was nothing she could do. “I know. I don’t want you to go either. I’ll miss you very, very much.”

“I’ll come back, right?”

Her head tilted toward me, her familiar green eyes as soft and warm as her smile. “Of course you will. This will always be your home. Wherever I am, that’s your home. You’ll come back for the holidays, and we’ll eat so much food and open so many presents.”

I nodded and blinked away the tears. I’d give up all my presents if it meant I got to stay with her. “Who’s going to count the stars with you?”

We didn’t have friends out here on the island. Even at school, I’d learned to keep to myself. Get too close to someone, and the next day, they’d be gone. That’s what it was like for anyone who got too close to my father, and I’d learned not to be their friend before they disappeared like all the others.

I didn’t want to imagine how lonely Mother would feel without me.

She squeezed my hand again before pulling me to my feet. “Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be just fine. Let’s go to bed, okay?”

“I think you should get glasses.” I pointed at her eye when she tilted her head, confused. “So you stop running into things and hurting yourself.”

Tears glistened before she turned away from me and held out her hand. “Come on.”

She tucked me into bed and read me the next chapter of our book. A story about a prince locked in a tower who wanted to be good but couldn’t figure out how. Every night, I listened to Mother read with my fists clenched, hoping he’d figure it out and reveal the answer to me.

But he didn’t figure out the answer by the end of the chapter, and Mother closed the book to sing me to sleep.

I shut my eyes, but sleep didn’t come, even after Mother kissed my forehead and whispered goodnight.

A shiver skittered down my spine in the silence. The three-story home with nine bedrooms was Father’s pride and joy, but inside was cold and lifeless. Fear gripped my throat every night I lay in the darkness alone. Every time a floorboard creaked as I crept down a hallway. At night, I didn’t count sheep—I counted ghosts. Ghosts made by my father’s hand.

The housekeeper, the gardener, the tutor, the nanny ?—

An ear-splitting scream echoed through the silent house.

I should’ve leapt out of bed and run to see who it was, what happened. But I was frozen, spine rigid and fists clenched around my blanket. Eerie silence fell, not even the tick of a clock breaking the quiet.

Until another shattering scream.

Heart racing, I crawled out of bed and crept to my door, easing it open with an almost imperceptible creak. Father didn’t like when I left my room at night, not even if I was thirsty. But I had to find out who screamed. I’d spent too many nights ignoring the screams, and the next day, Father would tell me we wouldn’t be seeing the housekeeper or the gardener or the tutor or the nanny anymore.

Grunts came from the opposite end of the hall. A small, flickering light trickled from Mother and Father’s room. Mother liked to light candles before she went to bed. She said she didn’t like the dark. I didn’t either.

As I snuck down the hallway, a shadow broke through the light and I stopped, holding my breath until my lungs burned.

The shadow was tall and broad-shouldered. Father.

He’d yell at me if he saw me out of bed at night, or worse. But what if he hadn’t heard the scream? It could be Mother, and she could need our help.

I had to be like the prince in that story. I had to be brave, for her, even if it meant not being good.

With every careful step, I cringed at the slight creaks beneath my feet, but Father didn’t barrel out to find me in the hallway and shove me back to my room.

Finally, I reached the threshold. Beside the flickering candlelight, Mother lay in her bed on her stomach, her face buried in her pillow and hair splayed out all around her like she was underwater. She wasn’t moving.

In the corner of the room, Father moved quietly like he was trying not to wake her. He was gathering up towels, but his hands were leaving prints. Bloody prints.

“What happened?”

Father whipped around, eyes wide. I’d never seen him afraid before, and it only lasted for a flash before his gaze returned to its usual quiet fury. “Go to bed, Trey.”

“Is Mother okay?” I’d never seen her sleep on her stomach before.

We both fell silent until Mother’s head slowly turned. My heart squeezed in precious relief.

She managed a small smile beneath her bloody nose. “I’m fine, Trey. Go to bed, okay?”

“But—”

“Listen to your mother.” Father’s sharp tone made me flinch. He stomped to the laundry chute and threw the bloody towels into it. “Get back to bed.”

“You’re bleeding, Mother.”

“It’s just a nosebleed,” Father snapped. “We all get them.”

“Then why is there blood on your hands?”

“There isn’t.” Father held up his hands, wiped clean of the blood. “That’s your imagination running wild again.”

My imagination ran wild a lot. Father didn’t like that.

But I wasn’t imagining the blood that had been covering his hands. Why would Mother scream if it was just a nosebleed? Why wasn’t she getting up and escorting me back to bed like she normally would?

“Your mother’s fine.” Father strode over to the door. I backed up, heart leaping to my throat and bracing myself for his hand, his belt, his foot, his fist. He gripped the door and loomed over me, rage like I’d never seen burning in his empty eyes. “Get to bed now .”

I’d awoken the beast. The one that lay dormant just beneath the surface, never fully asleep and always ready to be unleashed at any moment. His next move would be the belt or his fists, so I nodded and backed away, turning on my heel to get out of there.

“And Trey? Don’t tell anyone what happens at home. Family matters are family business only. Don’t talk about your mother or me or anyone else who steps foot into this house. Understood?”

When I nodded again, he dismissed me with a wave and I took off. Climbed into bed like he ordered, heart thumping, and naively thought that Mother must be okay like he said because she didn’t scream again.

At fifteen, all I wanted was to stay at boarding school. At least there, I wouldn’t be locked in my room at night. Or during the day when words came out of my mouth that Father didn’t like.

Fuck you. Fuck this. Fuck all of it.

An angry man raising an angry kid. Shocker.

Up on the top floor, sounds from the first story were muted. That was why he liked to keep me up here, so I wouldn’t be around to fuck up his business meetings or hosted dinners or whatever the hell he got up to.

Some nights, Mother managed to break away and free me from my cage. Most nights, she didn’t. Most nights, she took the beatings he doled out.

I never questioned why she didn’t leave. I knew why.

He’d do way worse than hit her.

The question isn’t why do we stay? The question is how do we ever leave?

One more night. Then I’d be heading back to boarding school. Tomorrow. I could last a few more hours in this hellhole. I’d made it fifteen years.

I climbed into bed and squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for sleep to come. My mind had nearly slipped away until a shout came from outside.

I bolted upright, scrambling out of bed and pressing my face against the window, trying to peer out into the darkness.

Small beams of light darted back and forth across the dark, perfectly manicured grass. Flashlights. A search party.

What the hell were they looking for? Who?

Shouts that I couldn’t make out. Flashlights that disappeared into the trees that lined the edge of the property for miles before making way for the cliffside and the awaiting ocean waves.

A figure in the dark. Two? Maybe more. They didn’t have flashlights, but they put the car in neutral and rolled down the driveway in silence before turning the engine over, leaving the headlights off to avoid detection.

Someone was fleeing the island. Only wish they’d taken me with them.

Neither of my parents ever came up to explain.

The next morning, dawn had barely cracked over the horizon when Father was barking at me to wake up.

I blinked dry eyes at him. He never came into my room. Never spoke to me unless he had to.

“Get up.”

I straightened and yawned. “My flight isn’t until afternoon.”

“Your mother is dead.”

My spine went rigid. I couldn’t have heard him right. He wouldn’t tell me my mother was dead the way he might deliver news of a flight delay or overcooked chicken. “What are you talking about?”

His eyes hardened. They’ve always been cold, lifeless. Nothing more within that shell of a man. “She’s dead, Trey. You need to get up.”

My pulse picked up speed. Mind buzzing. Panic mounting. This couldn’t be real. “What happened?”

“She drowned.” He stomped to my closet, tired of waiting for me to roll out of bed and get dressed.

“Is she the one everybody was searching for last night?”

He stiffened. He didn’t like when I revealed how much I knew about what went on in this house. “Yes.”

Unbridled rage slowly came to a boiling point in my chest.

My mother went missing while I was locked up in my room. They searched for her, only to find her dead. Drowned.

While I slept soundly, anticipating the hours until I could leave her behind.

My legs leapt out of bed of their own accord. I could’ve put my fist through his skull. A bullet through his chest. “You shouldn’t have locked me in here! I could’ve helped look for her. I could’ve saved her.”

My knees were about to buckle. The weight of my new reality finally settling over me like a boulder and crushing me underneath.

If I hadn’t been locked up here like a prisoner, I could’ve been out there searching for my mother. I could’ve found her before she ended up in the water. Could’ve jumped in and pulled her to safety. Or died with her. That would’ve been better than living without her. The only person who ever loved me.

“You couldn’t have done anything for her.” Father tossed pants and a jacket to me. “Now put on your suit.”

I fisted the stiff fabric reeking of mothballs and dust, the details of my suit blurring as the tears stung. “For what?”

“Her funeral.”