Ring. Ring.
I start praying, frantically reciting the childhood prayers my grandma taught me.
“I don’t think anyone’s coming for me, Emily,” she says. “I think the person who’s been threatening me is already here.”
Ring. Ring.
Tim. Please.Please.
“You did it, didn’t you?” she says quietly. “The notes. The threats. All of it.”
My knees tremble. “Lovie,” I say shakily, holding out my hands, “I had nothing to do with the notes. It wasyou.”
“Gaslighting,” she hisses, eyes glinting madly. “You’re gaslighting me.”
I hold my hands up like I’m at gunpoint. I step back, heart slamming. The attic stairs, I tell myself. Run for the stairs!
She sneers. “It was you! You were the one who knew about my past. You were the one who knew I was on meds. It was always you! Why are you tormenting me?”
“Hi! This is Tim’s voicemail! Sorry I’m—”
She inches forward, and for the first time I realize she’s holding something in her right hand. I’m about to run when I see it. Oh God. My heart drops; my feet freeze.
She’s holding a fucking hammer.
“Please leave a message after the…”
With an animal cry, she lunges forward, raising the hammer.
“Don’t kill me!” I cry out in horror. “Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!”
I jump out of the way as she brings the hammer down. She swings again, the hammer glinting in the dark. I scramble back, panting with terror, adrenaline surging through me. The stairs, the stairs! I’ve got to get to the stairs. I can’t see Sarah, but I hear her animal cries in the darkness. I press my back against the wall, trying not to breathe, squinting at the exit, desperate to get out. But the hammer shines softly, swinging back and forth. She’s blocking the stairs!
Gabe, I think desperately. My babies. I’m going to see them again. Iam! I grit my teeth and creep forward, keeping my eyes on the hammer. It’s frozen in place. She’s listening. She’s waiting for me.
“Emily?” she breathes in a singsong voice. I charge forward and throw myself at her, grabbing for her arms, trying to pin them as we fall back into darkness and crash heavily to the ground. I groan as my elbow hits a floorboard, but I scramble forward on my knees, panting in terror. Sarah swears, grabs my plait, and yanks hard. I scream when my cheek hits the floor with a sickening crack.
She grabs my waist, tries to throw me off her. Dazed, I realize her hands are empty. She’s dropped the hammer. I shove her down with my left hand as pain roars through my head. Sarah kicks at my legs, and my sandal flies off. She swears in rage, gobs of spit landing on my chin. The hammer. The hammer. Where’s the hammer? Gabe. The kids. God. I choke on tears. My babies, my babies.
Sarah goes still. I glance down. Her eyes are so dilated they’re black. Her face is dripping sweat, and she’s staring at…We see it at the same time. The hammer. Just inches above her head. For a brief moment, we stop struggling.
We both lunge for the hammer.
Chapter 39
Twelve days later
Dear Diary,
I’m going to burn you! I can’t have someone finding this.
The waiter sets my tea down. Lavender. It detoxes the body and boosts the immune system. “Lovely cat,” the waiter says, smiling. “Enjoying the sun, is he?”
I shield my eyes from the afternoon sun. Reaper is lying in his cat carrier, purring contentedly, watching the small stream of customers come and go from the Power Plant Café. It’s got a vegetarian-friendly, sort of hipster vibe. They sell crispy salt-and-pepper tofu pieces, king oyster mushroom skewers, and silky steamed spinach. I discovered it yesterday. I’d placed Reaper on the passenger seat of my rented Toyota Tarago (family van, seats seven!), and we cruised the town streets while I pointed out the sights.
“Yes, he is.” I smile gently, pushing my plait over my shoulder. I spent eight hours dying it yesterday. It’s honey blond and tied with a blueberry bow.
“Haven’t seen you here before?” He raises an eyebrow, grinning.
