Chapter 32
I stared at the woman lying on my bed. Her willingness to share with me, and the extent she was, shook me. Her words from before seemed cryptic, almost. I struggled momentarily to differentiate between the haunting tone and how it coincided with boarding school friends, young ones at that.
And what on earth would I need tissues for?
For whatever reason, she felt my heart was going to be ripped apart by the revelations.
I shook my head and settled back in the chair.
I looked at the worn pink journal. If I wanted to know, then I needed to get on with it.
I cracked the book open, and my eyes landed on the date first.
Then time froze as I read the words right under it. They practically leaped out, attacking my senses in the address alone.
Dear Mischa Natalya,
Goosebumps erupted across and down my arms. I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of those three little words.
An overwhelming rush of emotions hit. The name she’d meticulously scrawled across the page was somewhat faded, but the distinct purple color was clear.
I inhaled slowly as I tried to make sense of it, but breathing became difficult, as if I’d taken a sledgehammer to the chest.
20 April,
Dear Mischa Natalya,
It couldn’t be the same girl, my mind screamed. I forced myself to read more.
I’ve decided to write down all the things I ever wanted to say to you in a journal.
I’m going to get one for each of you girls.
Since it’s still your season, I’ll write to you every day until summer comes.
Every year, I’ll start a new one for you.
Saying goodbye to you was the hardest thing ever.
I wish you could have been awake for it, but you were in so much pain that night.
How could you not be with your back torn open?
You’ll be surprised to know that Autum spoke.
Not directly to me or Winter, but she spoke to you.
Her voice carried out into the hall, and her tears did too.
She has a sweet voice, by the way. Do you remember the painting she did of you sitting, resting your head on your knees?
It was always my favorite one of you. You looked so normal in it.
Of course, she could always make things look normal.
My emotions churned like a storm beneath my calm facade.
While shock coursed through me, my mind was mentally putting pieces together.
I swallowed hard, trying to control the shaking of my hands.
This couldn’t be. My mind couldn’t comprehend the reality on the page.
She knew Kinsley as Mischa Natalya. She mentioned her back and being in so much pain.
I knew Kinsley’s story now, in its entirety.
That meant…goddamn bloody hell.
I knew absolutely nothing.
Victoria’s poem from the night at the teahouse flashed through my head. It had been centered on seasons, coming and going. She also mentioned carousel animals and a castle. There were other distinguishable things that came with a resounding clarity.
The seasons represented her friends—these girls. And Mischa had been one of them. She was the ballerina sitting on the swan. The other two carousel animals were a faded red fox for Winter and—
My brain fired on all cylinders as things fell further into place. No fucking way. A white rabbit for Autumn. And sitting on it was a quiet girl with blue eyes. The painting of Mischa with her head on her knees. A signature move, drawn by this illusive Autumn.
Isabella?
My eyes shot up from the book and landed on Victoria. I worked at controlling my breathing and grappled with the revelation that Tori, my angel, was connected to Kinsley and—for the love of God—Isabella too.
I had what I could only associate with an out-of-body experience. In my mind, I recalled how upset Isabella was that first morning when she met Kinsley. How she’d stormed from the house and gone home. How the Carusos ended up cutting their holiday short and how she refused to leave her room again.
Then, when she showed up at the beach house after all, the two of them had a private conversation. And now? Now the two of them were so incredibly close and attached to one another. I originally attributed it to Kinsley’s persuasiveness and desperate need to connect with those around her.
But it was so much more than that. The guys and I chalked it up to the shared experience of being ripped from everything they knew. Kinsley’s with her horrific captors and Isabella with a lonely woman who wanted to replace her dead daughter.
Now, it all made sense. Not only had Kinsley experienced one of the most tragic and heart-wrenching stories I’d ever encountered in my career as a trauma counselor, but our little Bellaruso had too.
My eyes lifted to the bed once more. The shaking in my hands increased, and my palms broke out in a sweat.
This also meant that my sweet girl had similar secrets and sorrows far beyond that of Cameron’s treatment of her.
I took several deep breaths to control my inner turmoil and the chaos running rampant through my body.
I instantly knew what I had to do. So, with practiced ease, I masked every one of my emotions and feelings. Hiding them safely behind a calm exterior, I turned my attention back to the book.
After I finished the first one from beginning to end, I reached for the next. Each entry gave me more insight into their world. My heart broke over and over as one by one Victoria detailed their lives, giving voice to their fears and pain in a new, horrific way.
So consumed with the meticulous entries, I couldn’t stop. I devoured them one after another. Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Kinsley, Victoria, Isabella and… an unknown girl. Or well, woman now. I finished hers and pulled out another.
I couldn’t recall when, but Victoria eventually closed the journal she was writing in and fell asleep.
A short time later, she awoke and turned her pretty face to me.
I gently sat Kinsley’s second journal down and patted my lap, and she rushed over.
She nervously chewed on her bottom lip, noticing how far I’d gotten.
“I will reunite you with these girls. I vow with everything in me. I will not stop until every last one of you is under the same roof.”