Chapter 45
45
I can’t bear being around the Belladonnas. The vibes are off. But most of all, I’m disappointed in myself. At how I didn’t speak up for Iz. Sure, she could have been nicer, but she wasn’t entirely off base. I knew where she was coming from.
I wander around the island and wind up in front of Iz’s bungalow. I’m tempted to knock. To say sorry and offer an ear. But something pulls me back. The whole island has this heaviness, an overwhelming sensation of someone observing, breathing down my neck. I’m reminded of Bella Marie the day we arrived, how she stood on the tarmac with an empty gaze, and shiver.
I wish things could return to how they were this morning. I’ve lost the heady energy and I yearn to have it back.
Instead of going to Iz, I wander around pointlessly. I pass by some staff, dressed in their spotless white linen as they trim grass, manicure trees. They smile at me with their straight teeth, eyes sparkling, looking like models out of GQ or Vogue . What the hell is in the water here that gives their skin that uncanny glow? I wonder if they have a community dentist or if they pop out of the womb with perfect pearly whites, artificially selected for their teeth and luscious skin. “Good morning, Miss Van Huusen,” they chirp, tipping their heads. “How are you doing? Need any help? Where are you going?” As much as I love the attention, it’s getting annoying. Everyone is too keen on my actions, like a doctor observing a recovering mental patient.
To avoid eager eyes, I walk to the edge of the island, around the shore. My bare feet make imprints in the soft sand, each granule warm against my skin. The slosh of waves gathering and retreating, tasting my toes. I lose track of time. Somehow, I end up near the back of the island, where the sand merges into rocks and green. Putting on my sandals, I hike uphill and navigate through spindly trees that aren’t as manicured as the ones in the front. I come to a clearing that leads to a rocky bluff. Blue sea and endless skies stretch before me. The wind cools my damp skin and I spot a rock that would be a perfect place to take a break. Maybe some positive meditation to calm my thoughts. Sophia would be proud.
I’m situating myself on the rock when I hear branches snapping. A figure bursts through the trees. An old woman. She’s thin, dressed in brown-and- white linen, moccasins on her feet.
I knit my brows. Something is familiar about her.
She’s in a daze, doesn’t notice me. Her skin is wan under the harsh summer sun, blue veins running up her jaw. Eyes red and bleary. She creeps closer and closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, rocks crackling under her shoes. I glance from her to the edge and back to her, as the gap between them draws uncomfortably thin. Three more steps and she’d go plunging to her death.
Why isn’t she stopping?
Should I say something?
“Um. Excuse me? There’s a cliff there, so be careful.” My voice comes out weak, childish.
She stops, dust kicking under her shoes. Her head creaks toward me, her neck twisting like ropes. She stares not at me, but beyond. Behind me.
Goose bumps prickle my arms as I gulp, following her gaze. Nothing is there. Only trees, rock, and blue sky. I return my gaze to her, unsettled.
“Um… Hello?” I say, managing a smile.
She registers my words this time. Sharpness enters her eyes, and she darts toward me in fast, short steps. I jump off my rock, alarmed by her approach.
“You’re not from here,” she says, her voice hoarse and raspy like a smoker’s.
“N-no, I’m not. I’m a guest of—”
“You should leave before it’s too late.” She grabs hold of me, her dry, skeletal fingers prodding into my warm skin. “Leave before they get you too!”
“Um. What—”
Then, the sound of approaching steps. People running. Shouts. “Mrs. Melniburg!”
Mrs. Melniburg?
Now that I look at her carefully, I see the resemblance. Their long, swanlike necks, pointed chins, delicate frames.
“What are you standing around for?” she asks, breathless. “Go! Run!” She pushes me away.
I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the desperation in her irises or the sound of people approaching in search, but my legs move before my mind catches up. I stumble in retreat while my eyes are still on her.
Four workers dressed in gray appear beyond the trees and they lunge for her, grabbing her arms. I’m far enough away that they don’t notice me.
“Let go!” She struggles against them violently.
“It’s dangerous here, Mrs. Melniburg. Let’s get you back inside.”
A branch snaps under me. Four heads whip my way.
Fuck.
The biggest one, tall and menacing, separates from the rest. He glimpses me through the trees. My limbs are frozen, heart pattering up my narrowed throat. I only manage a squeak as I urge my legs to move. Move.
Move!
Fight or flight finally takes over. I spin around, legs breaking into a sprint as I dash in the opposite direction. He charges toward me. I risk a look over my shoulder as he closes in, burly hands reaching, grasping. I slam into something hard and fall onto my ass, knocking the wind out of my lungs. The world spins. A pale face looms, casting me into cold shadow.
I scream and shield myself. But there are no fists or kicks or grabbing arms. Only the sound of waves.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
That voice. It’s familiar. I peel my eyes open and glance through my fingers.
Viktor. He shakes his head at the other man, gesturing at him to back off. “She’s a valued guest of Miss Bella Marie.”
The other man grumbles something under his breath and jogs back to the group, who have a screaming Mrs. Melniburg wrapped tight in their arms.
“Are you all right?” Viktor offers his hand.
I’m apprehensive as I take hold. His fingers are rough, calloused. He pulls me up in a quick swoop, air rushing into my face.
“Y-yeah,” I stammer. Dried grass pricks my thigh through my linen pants like needles. I dust them off. “What the hell was that?”
“Sorry about my friend there. He’s under strict orders to watch Mrs. Melniburg. He can get quite protective.”
“Protective enough to run after me like he’s ready for murder? A bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”
“Not to us. Don’t you get jumpy when you think your family is in danger?”
I don’t have any family of value, so maybe I don’t understand. Swallowing hard, I wipe my forehead, which is slicked with sweat. “That woman said some weird things to me.”
Viktor nods, unsurprised. “The doctors say she’s sustained many traumas to the brain. Her falls as a gymnast, and now her addiction and her recent stroke. We’re also suspecting dementia. Sometimes, she says things that don’t make sense. It’s a shame what old age brings.”
She did seem in a daze. Like her head isn’t in the right place.
I think back to the Van Huusens. The two of them, vegetables in their hospital beds. It’s fucking depressing.
“Shouldn’t she be in a home or something?”
“She receives the best care here on the island. And she’s surrounded by family. There’s no better place to be.”
I guess he has a point. There’s clean air and fresh food here. Plus, knowing the Melniburgs, they probably have fancy doctors up their assholes. I wonder how much Viktor gets paid.
“You look frightened.” He puts his hand on my shoulder with a grin. “I have something that might cheer you up.”