There are clay sculptures, and bronze castings, and even a cross stitch. All of me. All of them packed haphazardly into this secret room. And those are only the ones near the entrance.
I whip out my arm, thrusting the candelabra into the gloom, and I see that the entire secret room is stacked almost tothe ceiling. Only a narrow gap leads through the centre, the path invisible in the gloom. I hear another whimper.
Isis is back there.
She’s buried under all this stuff. She’s suffocating. Bugs are crawling all over her.
The world spins. My skin prickles. I slap at the bugs crawling up my legs, tearing at my dress, trying to get them off me. It’s infected.I’minfected?—
Strong fingers wrap around my wrist. “You’re okay, Winnie.”
It’s Gideon. And he looks more serious than I’ve ever seen him. But his features are fading in my vision, blurring as I fight to stay in the moment. I’m being dragged into my nightmares by the musty scent, the sound of piles creaking and rodents burrowing, the crinkle ofthingsbeneath my feet.
“What’s the matter with her?” Someone shakes me. “Hey, Winnie? What’s happening? You’ve gone white.”
I turn to Alaric. His jaw trembles as he stands shin-deep in broken art projects. The king of his mountain of stuff.
Histreasure.
And I realise that I’ve uncovered the biggest lie of all.
He hasn’t got better. He hasn’t given up on his hoarding ways. He’s been hiding everything away in this room, hoping that I’d never find it, trying to manipulate me into believing this could work.
The Winnie Wins System is a complete failure.
I’ma complete failure.
I couldn’t stop my mum from ruining our home. I couldn’t stop Patrick from cheating.
I couldn’t even help Alaric.
He’s been lying to me all this time.
“Winnie, I can explain …” He sweeps his hand over the broken frames. “These were all for you. I was trying to?—”
My heart thrums in my ears, an ocean of trauma that sweeps away Alaric’s excuses. The stuff rushes up at me, and I grip Gideon’s arm, certain I’m going to pass out.
But the nausea recedes, and I remember why we’re here.
“Isis is in there, and he’s hurting her,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “Someone has to clean up.”
Gideon drops my arm and darts through the hole in front of me. Komal tries to haul me back but I duck under her and fling myself after him. I have to turn sideways to fit through the gap. Piles of stuff brush my skin, and the invisible bugs crawl all over me. I shut my eyes and urge myself forward.
It’s just rubbish. It can’t hurt you. It’s just stuff?—
I feel my way through the horror, listening for Gideon’s footsteps and the horrific slurping sound that must be a vampire feeding. But it’s almost drowned out by the groaning of the piles and the crunch and scrape of papers beneath my feet.
During the worst years of her hoarding – the two years before I left – my mother’s house was like this.
The panic rises in my chest. My ears ring. I can’t hear the slurping anymore, just grunts and groans and scuffles, but I don’t know what’s real and what’s a memory.
But Isis is in there. I have to get to her. I can’t let the mess claim her, too.
“Winnie, it’s okay. Back up. I got her.” A dark shape lurches towards me. Rough hands pull me out of the dark tunnel so that Gideon can come out. He waddles sideways, sending more glitter raining down on to the gathered women as he lays Isis gently at their feet. Dora drops beside her, cradling her sister’s body in her arms.
I stagger back from my friend’s glassy eyes, the horror rising in my throat.
Is she …
