19. Dollie—present day #2
“I found out he cheated,” I say, stepping on the first step.
“Oh, and it’s suddenly your fault. Of course! Come on, death by intruder sounds better for you, too, but don’t worry, it won’t come to that. This guy was your hero, after all.” Annabelle winks and taps the purse hanging over her shoulder. “But I have pepper spray, just in case.”
“Annabelle.” We stop at the gargoyle, the blood just around the corner. “Their blood is still on the carpet.”
“Why haven’t you pulled it up?”
“I can’t come up here. Tonight was my first time, and that’s only because Shane and whoever were fighting, and everything was happening downstairs.
” Vomit rolls in my stomach, making me feel ill with everything that’s happened.
“I fell backward and don’t know what happened after that.
I don’t know how I got to the reading room. ”
“Maybe you have a concussion. We should get you checked.”
“I feel fine, I just…”
“But you might not be.”
“I’ll take my chances, I just don’t?—”
“You don’t want to be up here?”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Okay. Go back down. Wait wherever you feel safest, and I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“What if you get hurt?”
“The chances of whoever hurting me after saving you are slim. I’ll be fine, and if you’d rather wait in my car, that’s okay, too.” She reaches for her keys and drops them into my hand. “It’s yellow. You’ll love it.”
Her key is yellow, too, and I smile as I accept it. “It’s okay. I’ll just wait in the foyer.”
A nod from Annabelle and our hands unlinking have us moving our separate ways. She disappears out of sight after opening Mom and Dad’s bedroom door as I reach the foyer.
A familiar chill returns, almost like a cold hug from someone who isn’t here.
“Princess.” The whisper is cold against my neck, raising the hairs there.
The pace of my breathing increases, and the cold in this damp space causes a fog around me.
“Dad?” I whisper back.
There’s no sign of him as I look around.
There’s no reply, either.
The only sound is the piano and a tune I remember trying to learn in childhood, coming from the music room.
“Who’s there?” My lip trembles, along with my whole body.
The offer of Annabelle’s car grows more tempting. I glance down at the key in my hand before eyeing the second floor.
There’s no sign of Annabelle, and depending on where in the house she is, there’s no guarantee she can hear the music, but from where I stand, there’s a chilling echo around the tune.
The music stops, and I wonder if it was ever really there.
“Fuck, I really am not getting enough sleep.” I run my hands over my face, feeling the hollows beneath my closed eyes.
My father stands too close at my side with his stomach gaping open when my eyes open.
I gasp in a pathetic attempt to catch my breath as I fall away from him.
The thick wood below me assaults my body, hitting hard against my bruises.
Dragging myself backward, I rush to the music room, not caring who is in there because my father’s ghostly figure walks behind me, and it’s more frightening than anyone else could be.
Pushing open the heavy door, I close it with him still on the other side. I feel to the left for the switch to bring light into the room.
It’s too dark.
I hate the dark.
Panic washes over me when trembling fingers can’t find the switch, and I freeze when I feel someone’s breath on my neck. I inhale the sweet, spicy scent of the other person in the room, not knowing what else to do.
A big hand covers mine as it trembles against the old, flowered wallpaper—his other hand feathers up my body from my waist to my neck.
I stutter out the words, “Thank you for saving me. I appreciate it.”
He nods, his face close to mine.
“But you frightened me, too. And you shouldn’t be here.” The words are hard to voice. But maybe by him standing so close to my spine has me realizing I have one. “So please, can you go now?”
There’s a pause where neither of us moves before he squeezes my hand in acknowledgment and gives me another nod. His fingers move with mine, placing my hand on the switch.
He pauses as if he hopes I’ll turn on the light and turn around to face him.
But if he is dressed up like a clown, I can’t see that makeup again without feeling a fear I can’t shake.
So, I keep us in the dark.
Space between us grows, making me more aware of a chill in the corner of the room—there’s a window open. Almost silent footsteps move toward it.
So, he is just an intruder.
An intruder whose sweet aroma is no longer around me.
The click-clacking of Annabelle’s boots as they come down the stairs gives me the courage to turn on the light, comforted by the sound of her close by.
Turning slowly, I see no one else in the room. No clowns. No intruders at all, but?—
“Oh, my god! Duggan La’Darragh, is that you!”
Racing around the room and all the instruments scattered everywhere, I land on my knees at the piano seat, plucking my little stuffed antelope—that looks more stuffed than I ever remember him being—from the chair.
“Dollie?” Annabelle enters the room. “There’s no one upstairs.”
No, because he’d been in here with me.