I stare at it and take a step closer. My hand reaches out, and the moment I lift it, a thorn pricks my finger. I hiss and drop it back onto the bed, then bring my finger to my lips, sucking the blood away until it stops.
My mother used to get white flowers from my father whenever he wanted to apologize. I once asked her why, and she said,“It’s a new beginning for your father and me, leaving some chapters behind and opening new ones.”
Sometimes I hoped Daniel would buy me white roses to apologize, but he never did. I got white lilies instead, because the florist down the road always had them on sale.
We lived near the funeral home.
I let out a quiet chuckle.
The irony.
I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that they were never found. Part of me thinks they might still be out there, alive. But another part of me is sure they’re dead, because every time I close my eyes, I see their bodies floating away.
My stomach twists. The thought makes me sick.
I pick up the rose again and set it on the nightstand. I take L.R.’s diary into my hands, and sit on the bed, pulling myself closer to the wall. I turn the pages slowly until a date stops me.
Something crashes downstairs.
I snap the diary shut and jump to my feet. The room feels too small all of a sudden, and fear again creeps in. I shove my feet into my slippers and step into the hallway.
The house is quiet again.
I edge toward the staircase, fingers brushing the wall as I lean forward.
Nothing.
Turning back, I grab the vase and raise it above my head as I make my way down the stairs. At the bottom, the window is open again. Cold air slips in, crawling over my skin.
I lower the vase at the end of the staircase and move toward the window, wanting to shut it. But halfway there, the phone starts to ring.
I swallow hard, my head turning toward the sound.
This time, I don’t let it ring twice. I rush to it and pick it up.
“Listen, asshole, whoever you are, if you call again, I swear I will cut every cord in this house and strangle you with it.”
“Miss Vale,” a sharp female voice says, “language.”
“Miss Danvers,” I say, my voice shaking. “I...”
She sighs into the phone. “Save excuses. I’m calling to make sure everything is alright, and to ask you for a favor.” She pauses.
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
“It’s been bothering me. I lit a candle in the church for Lilibeth and Helena, and I can’t sleep knowing it might still be burning.” Her voice lowers.
“It’s been two days. Wouldn’t the candle burn out?”
“Sometimes they last longer if they tip over.”
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll check.”
“Thank you,” she says. “And Miss Vale...”
“Yes?”
“Next time, answer with ‘This is Rosewood Residence.’ Lilibeth would turn in her grave if she heard you curse on the phone.”
