Chapter 54
54
You are humble,” the girls affirm after yoga. The zap of heady confidence I usually feel is absent. I mask my antipathy with a broad grin. No one questions me.
In the afternoon, we have acai bowls for lunch. As soon as I have time for myself, I purge my stomach since I’m now certain they’re drugging me.
I wonder if Chloe’s vices were rooted in these island trips. If she developed an addiction to euphoria and happiness that crumbled into a dependency on pills and alcohol. I can understand it. That golden energy inside me is something I was desperate to have.
But that’s exactly why I can’t take risks with anything they feed me. One wrong step and I’ll be swallowed into their addictive stream of I love you s, lungs clogged with so much liquid ardor, it’ll be impossible to breathe.
It’s movie night in the chateau. I’ve tucked myself into the corner of the room.
The girls are debating between Beauty and the Beast, Miss Americana, and Midnight in Paris.
“Didn’t Woody Allen groom his daughter?” Maya asks.
“It’s important to separate the art from the artist,” Kelly replies.
Everyone claps and nods like what she said was oh so poignant.
There’s a knock on the door.
“Who is it?” Bella Marie calls.
“Viktor.”
The room breaks out in giggles as the girls tuck strands of hair behind ears.
“Come in,” says Bella Marie.
The double doors swing wide. He smiles at us. “Hello, ladies.”
“Hello, Viktor,” they purr.
I wonder what Viktor’s life must’ve been like. Born on a small island, molded into a little plaything. I had thought him brainless at first, but now I pity him. Could he still break out of it? Or is he permanently tainted?
He hands Bella Marie a flash drive and whispers in her ear.
Her eyes grow wide with delight.
As Viktor leaves the room, he catches my gaze. He must know I’m Julie now. I wonder what he’s thinking. He shuts the door behind him.
“I have an update on Angelique,” Bella Marie says, hopping over to the projector.
Pressure releases from my chest. The fact that she’s smiling must mean Angelique is okay.
“I miss her so much,” says Lily, though this is the first time she’s mentioned Angelique since last night.
Bella Marie plugs in the flash drive and clicks a few buttons on the projector.
It’s a screen recording of a YouTube video. The title is only: “.”
Yes. A period.
It has three million views.
Angelique’s eyes are bleary, tearstained. Sommer has one arm wrapped around her shoulders. He’s staring into his lap.
Bella Marie dims the lights and presses play.
The video starts with a beep… beep… beep. Sounds that remind me of the Van Huusens’ hospice. The couple is silent, holding hands. Angelique’s hair is unusually messy, lips pale. She’s wearing an ugly white gown—a hospital gown. My chest tightens when I realize they are in a hospital room. The beeping is her vital monitors. Five seconds into silence, she sighs and makes eye contact through the camera.
“I really didn’t want to make this video.” Her voice cracks, at the cusp of a cry. “But I promised to be transparent and vulnerable at every step of our pregnancy.”
My mouth dries, heart pattering. I know what will follow.
“Last night,” Angelique continues, tears welling in her eyes, “I miscarried our baby.”
And there it is.
I bite my lip, cover my crumpling chest with my hands. My heart breaks as I listen to Angelique express the dreams she had for her child; the names, Celine if girl, Thomas if boy.
But then.
“This is so sad,” Lily says.
“So, so sad,” Emmeline echoes.
“The saddest. I might cry,” adds Ana.
“So sad,” says Maya, “but she still looks so beautiful.”
“Yes, gorgeous,” says Kelly.
I glance at the Belladonnas. They’re staring at the screen—smiling, white canines bared, catching the light of the projector, like they’re filming a sponsored video for a tooth-whitening kit.
“She’s glowing,” says Sophia.
“Like an angel,” adds Lily.
“And Sommer is so handsome,” says Kelly.
“Not just handsome,” says Maya. “Hot.”
“ So hot,” Emmeline coos.
“The hottest,” Ana concludes.
They turn to each other and giggle, their dainty little fingers covering their mouths as if this video is oh so sweet, beaming as they watch their friend bawl for her lost child. I repress the urge to slap each of them in the face, to roundhouse kick in their fake lips so the silicone explodes, break their veneers so their collective giggles sound like whistles.
The only silent one is Bella Marie. She’s stoic, emotionless. And perhaps that’s even worse. It’s as if the sight of her weeping, grieving friend doesn’t bring her sadness. Just… nothing.
I curl my knees into my chest, hug myself tight.
The video is short but heartbreaking. Five minutes. No ads.
The next slide is comments. I can barely read them because my eyes are clouded with tears and confusion, but I get the sense that they are overwhelmingly positive, from how the Belladonnas coo and smile and giggle and clap.
The next slide: YouTube analytics. In the span of five hours, she’s gained over 30K subs. Millions of views. Thousands of comments. The next slide: Instagram analytics. Similar growth and numbers. Finally, her TikTok. Angelique has cut the video into two parts. Each with about five million views. She only gained 2K followers, which is par for the course on TikTok, where views rarely translate to follows. But then Bella Marie shows us another screen recording. A TikTok live where the only thing in frame is Angelique’s ultrasound and a pair of yellow newborn shoes with cupcakes on them. The corner graphic indicates there are 10K live viewers. Next to the ultrasound is a piece of paper that says: all gifts to the live will go toward my baby’s memorial fund.
Donations are turned on.
The thirty-second screen recording begins. There’s background music. “See You Again” by Charlie Puth from the Fast and Furious franchise. I’m horrified not just by the song choice, but by the donations that roll in. Twenty roses. A hundred more roses. Someone sends a cowboy hat. The animation clips onto the ultrasound, like the dead fetus is wearing the hat, the uterus growing a little mustache. A different viewer donates a disco ball. It spins near the top of the screen, holographic lights pointing to the black-and-white picture. A corgi now, its tongue lolling out in delight as it shakes its little butt at the gray fetus.
“Angelique wanted me to show you this,” Bella Marie says as she flips to the next slide. A screenshot of her earnings from the five-hour live. $32,982. TikTok will take a 50 percent commission, which means she netted just over $15K.
My jaw drops as the Belladonnas clap and squeal, elated, their slapping palms ringing into my ear.
The projector shuts off and we’re cast in momentary darkness. Bella Marie flicks on the light. It beams over her head like a halo, her hair the color of piss.
She floats to the center of the room, her hands clasped in front of her heart. “I am just so delighted for Angelique. Thanks to Eto, her growth has been explosive. And with how special and holy her sacrifice was, in due time the whole world will see how kind and beautiful and lovely she is.”
My blood runs cold.
Sacrifice.
The baby.
Her firstborn child.
Of course. How did I not realize?
She sacrificed her firstborn child to Eto for followers.
Well, I guess it’s official. There’s no more denying it.
They’re all batshit insane.
“Angelique is so kind,” says Emmeline.
“So kind.” Kelly.
“And so beautiful.” Maya.
“Gorgeous.” Sophia.
“Incredibly lovely.” Lily.
“Just so lovely!” Ana.
They all turn to me, waiting for me to join along. There’s a rock stuck in my throat, it doesn’t budge even as I try to swallow it down, the primal urge to scream: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU ALL? But not now. Not when I’m stuck in this room with them. Their long, pointy acrylics could rip into my flesh at any moment. Their white teeth could chomp my fingers like carrots.
“So lovely, so beautiful, so kind,” I say, urging the tears that threaten to leak out of my eyes to suck themselves back in. “And I miss her so much.”
Bella Marie smiles. Her features are so symmetrical, it’s almost uncanny, inhuman. “I knew you’d understand, Julie. You’re just too beautiful to not understand.” She shakes her head, a single finger tapping her lips. “Darlings, I have a really wild idea.”
“Wild?” Ana asks.
“What type of wild?” Maya asks. “Fun wild?”
“No, no, no.” Bella Marie looks at me. “I think we should make it official.”
My pulse jumps into my throat. “M-make what official?”
“Make you one of us.” Bella Marie’s eyes are wide, stretched, revealing the bloodshot webs in her white sclera. “Part of the family.”
“I thought I already was. I ate—last night by the campfire.”
Giggles ripple across the room.
“Oh, silly goose,” says Bella Marie. “That was just the first step. An initiation.”
Sweat breaks across my back. Eating a fucking mouse was an initiation ?
“It was a gesture to Eto to show what you are willing to do,” Bella Marie explains. “To swallow down your fears, to put away morality for a brief second. A show of dedication.”
“Right.” I gulp. “Dedication. So, um, what’s the real thing like?”
She smiles wide, so wide I can see her uvula. I think of the mouse again. How easily she swallowed it, like a snake. She grabs my arms and rushes me out of the movie room, into the grand entrance hall with all the paintings of the Melniburgs— Eto worshippers, cult leaders—crawling up the wall.
“Viktor!” Bella Marie screeches. “Ohhhhh, Viktor! Where are you? Come right this instant!”
“Yes?”
I jump, his voice to my right. He’s appeared out of nowhere.
“Ready the main hall. We’re about to let Julie into our family!”
Someone steps behind me, too fast for me to turn around. A whoosh. Bang! I topple onto the ground, ears ringing. My temple throbs with pressure as my vision goes in and out. Pretty little ankles dance around me, the sound of their cooing voices.
Darkness.