Page 147 of Their Little Ghost

“Listen to yourselves,” Lex mocks. “We’re all fucking crazy, or haven’t you realized that by now? We’ll never be sane!” He rolls his eyes. “We’re not like normal people. We won’t get to live happily ever after. We’re cursed. We always will be. Acacia made sure of that, but we still have a chance at freedom. That’s what we want, isn’t it? That’s whatshewanted.”

Aiden cracks a tiny smile. My shoulders sag in relief. He’s back again.

“We’re breaking her out,” Aiden says with a newfound determination. “She’s our fucking property, and we’re bringing her home.”

I grin. “Yes!”

“And then we finish what we started?” Lex asks.

Aiden nods. “Acacia’s going down, then we’re getting the hell out of Pasturesville and away from Sunnycrest for good. All four of us.”

CHAPTER

FORTY-FOUR

SARAH

I pore over the diary,reading about my punishments and the times Dad locked me in Sunnycrest to stamp the spirit out of me. It’s easy to see why Dad paid Officer Blackwell to dispose of my diary, and even easier to see why Officer Blackwell kept it. This is pretty damning evidence. It lays out what a monster he is. If anyone read it, they’d be sure to question my father. Maybe Blackwell is sharper than Erin thought.

When writing, I omitted any details about the guys and our hookups to avoid getting them into trouble. I regret that now. I can’t trust my own memory, and I’d like to remember exactly how I felt back then.

Although returning, my memories are still a little fuzzy, but the more I recall, the sharper they become.

Our relationship revolved around sex at the beginning. I liked knowing we were doing something forbidden, as well as getting the best orgasms of my life. It soon turned into more than that…

I continue flicking through the pages, laughing at how he thought letting me stay there for one weekend would change who I am. I chortle as I read a passage.

Dad took me to Sunnycrest this weekend. He wanted to show me what would happen if I broke his rules again. I was terrified! I was sleeping in a cell next to murderers and psychopaths! One of them threatened me with a knife. I thought I was going to die!

Okay, so I had a flair for the dramatics. In fact, the truth was very different. Another memory comes back from that weekend…

“Seriously?” I face off against Dad as he hauls me into a cell. “You’re going to leave me here?”

“It’s only for the weekend,” Dad says. “I want you to see what could happen if you don’t change your ways.”

I huff and flop down onto the firm bed, where a mound of disgusting gray clothes lies in wait.

“I’m not wearing that,” I say, picking up the sweatshirt and dropping it in disgust. “It’s not my color.”

“This is a hospital.” Color creeps up Dad’s neck as he tsks in exasperation. “Not a catwalk!”

“Clearly,” I mutter sarcastically. “Look, it’s bad enough that you’re making me stay here. It doesn’t mean I’m going to look terrible doing it. I don’t care whether this is a hospital. I’m not sick, remember? I’m just a disappointment.”

Dad looks like he wants to tear the clothes off my body and force me into the horrible shapeless items. Thankfully, a knock on the door spares me another tirade of abuse.

“Enter!” Dad barks impatiently. He checks his watch and frowns.

“We need you, Doctor Acacia!” An orderly barges in, then casts a nervous look in my direction. “We have a… new arrival… who needs orientation before this evening.”

“I’ll be right there,” Dad snaps, then narrows his eyes at me. “You will see the therapist this afternoon. Lord knows, they may help you.” He points at me menacingly. “If I find out you’ve caused any trouble in the meantime, you will pay dearly. Do you understand?”

“What’re you going to do? Send me to Sunnycrest?” I arch one eyebrow. “I’m already here.”

His lips purse like he’s sucking a very sour lemon, then he scowls and stomps away. I hear him picking faults with the orderly as they get farther away.

I run a hand through my blonde hair and shake my head to give it added volume. Annoyingly, Dad confiscated my purse, so I can’t reapply my makeup.

The cell door isn’t locked, and I saunter into the hall. I’m greeted by a swarm of identically dressed girls. Silence descends. Obviously, they all know who I am. Their stares are full of curious intrigue, anger, and a sprinkling of bitter resentment. Maybe they just like my outfit. My denim shorts and crop top are better suited to a frat party than an asylum.