“I—I slipped.” I can hardly believe I’m saying this. I’ve never lied to Salma before.
“Did… was someone… in there?” she asks softly.
Every punch of my pulse feels like an earthquake.
“I don’t know,” I hear myself whisper.
After a long pause, Salma says, “I’ll grab your toothbrush,” and I hear the door swing open as she and Tiffany head upstairs.
I try not to think about the fact that I’m in here alone.
They’ll be back any second.
Still, my hands are shaking so hard that it takes me a moment to throw out the old pad and stick on a new one. After what just happened, the sight of more blood makes me feel lightheaded, so I just sit on the toilet with my head in my hands.
Then I hear the bathroom door whoosh open.
“Lore?” calls Salma softly. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, almost done.”
“I’m going to rinse off,” says Tiffany, and I hear a shower faucet turn on. “I’ll be quick.”
“Same,” says Salma, and a second shower goes on. “Lore, I left your toothbrush on the counter next to my toiletry bag.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, and once it sounds like they’re both showering, I grab my toothbrush and dart up the stairs.
I change into a long T-shirt that falls to my knees, then I shut off the lights before crawling into the lower bunk bed.
There are no curtains, so even in the dark, silver light floods the room. I stare past Tiffany’s bed and beyond the floor-to-ceiling window to the black canopy that holds up the crescent moon and twinkling stars. The real world feels far, far away and out of my reach.
It’s like upon entering this manor, we’ve stepped into a different universe.
A universe without phones or internet or parents.
A universe with secret rooms and blank books and monsters.
Come here.
The demon speaks so clearly in my memory that it feels like he’s in the room with me.
Cold sweat trickles down my face, and I burrow so deep under the covers that I have to take bigger breaths to get enough air. I still can’t process what happened tonight. It can’t be real. It’s more likely I had a break with reality.
The way he controlled my body, as if it belonged to him.How did he do that? Why is he here? Could he really be a—a—
But I can’t even think the word.
It’s too outrageous to consider.
The door swings open, and I hear Salma and Tiffany come in. Even under the covers, I inhale a waft of floral scents, and I peek out to see Tiffany setting her toiletries on the dresser, her hair wrapped in a pink silk bonnet. Then the edge of my mattress is weighed down as Salma lies next to me.
Our faces are close together, and as we look at each other, this is the first part of tonight that feels normal.
“What happened earlier?” she whispers in the semidark.
I can see the whites of Tiffany’s eyes as she looks our way, watching and listening intently. If I saythatword out loud, she will know I’ve lost it. And if she tells anyone else, soon it could get around that Viviana Navarro’s daughter is a messy attention-seeker.
“Nothing,” I lie again. “I’m tired.”
