Chapter 22 #2
“Well, perhaps you need to remember what it was like feeling like one,” Marina asserted.
And then, suddenly, something shifted in her expression.
Rachel narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“That is exactly what you need.” Marina’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile.
Rachel’s stomach tightened at the mischievous look in her sister’s eyes. It was the same look Marina had when they were younger, right before she roped Rachel into some scheme of hers.
“Whatever you are thinking, stop.” Rachel crossed her arms.
“No,” Marina grinned. “This is perfect.”
“I do not like that tone.”
“Oh, you will.”
“Marina—”
“Do you remember how we used to play dress-up in Mother’s old gowns?” Marina interrupted, eyes gleaming.
“I—what does that have to do with anything?” Rachel blinked.
Marina waved a hand and continued anyway. “And how we used to sneak out into the gardens at night, pretending we were princesses hiding from an evil king?”
“That was a long time ago,” Rachel exhaled sharply.
“Exactly.” Marina clasped her hands together, delighted. “Which means it is overdue.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“Why not?” Marina shrugged. “You are miserable. I refuse to allow it. And I happen to know the best cure for misery is reckless nostalgia.”
But somehow, against herself, Marina managed to convince her. A few moments later, they were curled up in bed, just as they had as children. Marina had insisted on braiding Rachel’s hair, a tradition from their youth, and Rachel let her.
“Do you remember when we used to sneak sweets from the kitchen at night?” Marina mused, fingers weaving through Rachel’s hair.
“I would always get us out of trouble.” Rachel smiled at the memory. It seemed like forever ago now.
“You were always the better liar,” Marina laughed.
“Not anymore, it seems,” Rachel hummed.
“He will come back, you know.” Marina’s hands stilled for a moment before she resumed braiding.
“And if he does not?” Her heart ached at the possibility.
“Then he is the fool, not you,” Marina said, squeezing her shoulder gently.
Rachel closed her eyes, allowing herself, for the first time in days, to simply exist without the weight of disappointment. For now, she was just a sister with her sister, and that had to be enough.
“For heaven’s sake,” a groggy voice called out to her from beside her, “Go to sleep. You have been fidgeting around for too long.”
Rachel should have been tired after how long the day had been, but instead, she lay awake in bed.
She looked at Marina with a guilty expression. “I cannot sleep.”
“You should try,” Marina grumbled. “Because this is very distracting for me.”
Rachel wondered if she should try picking at her sister’s brain for a bit. Perhaps Marina could keep her company for a while—that was what she had come here to do, had she not?
But then, she decided to have some mercy on her.
“I will try,” she muttered, defeated.
Marina mumbled something incomprehensible under her breath, turning the other way and settling back into sleep. Rachel envied her.
She had been having trouble sleeping ever since Simon left, so much so that she had developed eye bags under her eyes.
It was not a pretty sight, but what did it matter, anyway? It was not as though her husband was there to praise her or look at her.
She could not decide which was worse—staying awake and thinking of him or drifting off to a nightmare-ridden sleep? A part of her preferred the latter, but even then, sleep did not come.
She needed air. Maybe she could take a walk to clear her mind. It was far too cluttered, anyway.
Slowly, she left the bed and made her way towards the door. Immediately, she was hit by the cold gust of wind from an open window nearby. The house itself felt dreadfully empty as well.
I wonder how Simon managed to survive here all alone all those years.
Rachel swallowed hard and shook the thought away. No more thinking about Simon.
It was how she had gotten into this rotten mess to begin with. If she had kept to the original terms of their marriage and not let herself fall in love with him, then his absence would not have impacted her as it did now.
Rachel reached the grand staircase, glancing down at the steps. The downstairs area looked far too dark.
“One of the staff must have forgotten to light the lamps,” she muttered to herself.
It must have been an oversight. She decided to take it upon herself to do the task. If nothing else, it would give her something to do.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and began to feel around the room. It was too dark to see anything properly, but she spotted one of the lamps.
“There,” she said, feeling the wall with her hands. If she could just light it up, then it would be fine.
Slowly, she reached for the matchbox that was usually kept in one of the drawers under the lamp, but before she could light it, there was a crack in the air. Like someone had lost their footing and stumbled.
“Is someone there?” she called out, startled. “Agnes?”
Maybe the housekeeper had heard the sounds of her moving about and came out to inspect.
But there was no reply. With shaking hands, she returned to the lamp, though she chided herself for being so scared.
“Don’t be so foolish,” she muttered under her breath, struggling to light the match. “No one can be here at this time of the day.”
She struck the match and finally lit up the lamp, and light spread around her. But that was when she noticed the shadow on the wall in front of her.
A cold dread curled around her spine as she realized she was not alone. It all happened very quickly after that. Hurried footsteps snuck up behind her, and then a pair of arms grabbed her from her sides.
A blood-curdling scream escaped her lips, and then everything around her seemed to dim.