Sometimes I think he talks just to hear his own voice, or maybe he’s trying to convince his friends that he owns me. Not sure why. Everyone in this room knows he does.
I drop my eyes to my hands resting in my lap and see a piece of fuzz on my nightgown. It’s the most I’ve gotten to wear these past few days. It’s high up on my neck and falls to my knees. I might as well be naked, considering it’s sheer. You can see right through it. And it’s really itchy. I’d rather be naked.
I start to pick at it when the door opens.
I’m not allowed to speak. I’m to be seen, not heard.
“Hello, darlings,” the woman’s voice calls out. It sounds nice and comforting. Much different from the gruff and commanding ones I’m used to here at home.
Keeping my head down, I peek up at her through my lashes. She’s standing with her back to me, hugging my father in greeting. I’m surprised he gives her the time of day. He hates everyone. Especially me.
She wears a pair of black heels with red bottoms. They’re really tall and skinny and come to a point at the end of her toes. I would think that they’re hard to walk in, but she seems to do it flawlessly.
Turning around, I avert my eyes to my hands quickly, but I know I was too slow when her pointy shoes turn to face me.
A hand grips my chin and yanks my head back. Her eyes scan my face, neck, and nightgown. “Pretty little thing.” She smiles at me, and I no longer like the sound of her voice. It went from comforting to threatening with one compliment.
“Well, you would know.” One of my father’s friends laughs.
“I suppose.” She lets go and steps away from me.
Something out of the corner of my eye gets my attention, and I glance to see what it is. I sit up straighter when I see it’s a girl. Like me. That’s new. “Hi,” I whisper, so as not to get the others’ attention.
She stands in the corner with her back straight, hands gripping a vibrant red purse. It matches the bottoms of the older woman’s shoes and stands out against her black dress. Her hair is the color of the sun. Bright and big curls. I wish I could do mine like that. It looks so pretty on her.
“Hey,” I whisper, unable to contain the smile on my face. “What’s your?—”
“Everett,” my father snaps.
I slump over, and my pulse races. “Yes, sir?” I ask with my eyes now on the floor.
“Who the fuck are you talking to?” he demands.
I frown, looking up at him. All eyes are on mine, and I look to my right to see the girl standing there as still as a statue.
“Well?” he barks, and I jump.
“It’s okay.” The woman walks back to me and gives me a smile that she’s trying to play off as nice. I’m not buying it. I know what the devil looks like, and he’s in the room with us. “Who were you talking to, dear?”
“Uh.” My eyes shoot back to the girl again, and she’s not paying me any attention. I watch to see if her chest moves in her black dress, and I can’t even tell if she’s breathing.
“It’s okay,” the woman assures me. “You may speak.”
I lick my lips nervously. “The…the girl.”
She frowns and looks around the room. “You’re the only girl I see, Everett.”
No. “She’s right there.” I point at her in the corner.
“Quit fucking around,” my father snaps at me. “You’re wasting our time.”
I rub my sweaty hands on my thighs, causing my nightgown to ride up. The woman leans over and pulls it down, fixing it for me. Then she faces my father. “Have you had her tested?” she asks.
“For what?” he barks.
“Schizophrenia,” the woman answers, and I wish I knew what she was talking about. “The poor girl is clearly seeing things.”
I stand on the second-floor balcony of the cathedral, looking down over the pews filled with Lords. All of them in black cloaks and masks.
