Imogene licks her lower lip and finishes off the wine in her glass. “They’re all the same,” she says. “But you’re free to make your choices, Philomena. I won’t be another voice in your programming.”
Imogene walks over to put her glass in the sink. “I’ll be in my room. You’re welcome to use the rest of the house. There are five other bedrooms upstairs that you can use. We’ll discuss this further in the morning. In the meantime, enjoy your freedom.” She smiles. “It’s intoxicating, isn’t it?”
Marcella nods at her in a placating way. It’s impossible to tell if Imogene is being earnest or delusional. If the effect of the wine on her personality is a complicating factor.
Imogene grabs the bottle off the counter and heads toward her room with it, pausing in the hallway when Brynn exits the bathroom. She looks her over and then smiles.
“You feeling okay?” Imogene asks softly. Brynn nods, but I can tell something is wrong from here. Her posture is rigid, her hands clasped in front of her. Suddenly, Imogene hugs her, and Brynn falls back against the wall, momentarily stunned before bringing her arms up to return the hug.
“It’s so good to be around girls again,” Imogene says. “My husband kept me from you. I’m glad he’s gone. I’m glad.”
We all watch them until Imogene pulls back, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Good night, my girls,” she announces. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” Marcella calls back, matching her tone. But the moment Imogene disappears into her room, Marcella waves Brynn over to us and looks around worriedly.
“We stay the night and then we leave first thing in the morning,” Marcella says. “Got it?”
“Yeah,” Sydney agrees. “It smells super weird in here.”
Brynn reaches our group and looks back toward the bedroom before leaning in closer. “The fireplace,” she whispers. “There are burned things in there. Like, personal-looking things.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. “Like a body?”
Brynn falls back a step. “What? No.What?” she repeats.
“What kinds of things?” Marcella asks.
“Like papers and metal, picture frames. Objects she’s burned,” Brynn says. “I don’t know what they could be.”
“Notbodies,” Marcella says, turning to me. “Pretty dark, Mena.”
I guess after the night we’ve had, my mind immediately imagines the worst. Then again, we’re in the worst of it. Dr. Grogerdidburn up girls. I sway at the thought, closing my eyes to block it out. Marcella sighs deeply and leans in closer to talk to us.
“Maybe after her husband left, she got rid of stuff,” Marcella says. “I would do the same. He sounds awful. And you saw her wrists.”
“He hurt her,” Sydney says somberly. “Probably for a long time. She doesn’t even look the same.”
“Then I’m glad he’s gone too,” Marcella says.
We stand silently before I look out the window. It won’t be long until the sun is up. “We should get some sleep,” I suggest. “I’ll grab Annalise and the others, and then we’ll find our beds.”
“Brynn and I will head up now,” Marcella says. “I need to washthisoff.” She holds up her arm, and I see streaks of Annalise’s blood on her light brown skin. I think we’re all soaked in it.
“Good night,” Brynn tells us before reaching out her hand to Marcella. The two of them walk toward the staircase to the second floor. “See you in the morning,” she calls back to us.
“See you then,” I reply.
Sydney loops her arm through mine, but there’s no relief in her touch this time. We’re both tired and sore. We want this all to be over, but we know it’s just the start of our fight. We’re already exhausted. Sydney walks out to the car with me, and I find Jackson sitting in the backseat with the door open. I relay to him what Imogene told us, but because Quentin is listening, I leave out the part about her knowing about our programming. Annalise has her eyes closed, but I’m not sure if she’s asleep or just quiet.
Jackson looks at Quentin. “What do you think, man?” he asks him. “Should we stay here tonight and figure out where to go tomorrow?”
“I don’t know, Jackie. Is this girl’s … husband …” He looks at me. “You said she’s married?” I nod. “Okay, is this girl’s husband going to show up and cause a scene if we stay here?”
“She said he’s gone,” I tell him. “It doesn’t sound like he’s coming back.”
Quentin seems to debate what to do. “What kind of school … ?” he murmurs, and climbs out of the passenger seat. Just as he does, Annalise opens her eyes.
“I need a shower,” she says. “I feel like death.” She walks ahead with Quentin and Sydney, leaving Jackson and me at the car.
