Page 16
I wrap my arms around myself and sit on the toilet, shivering and listening to the pipes clang inside the walls like old bones rattling in protest. Hell probably feels like this. Cold, vast and watchful.
Before a shower, I return to the main room to rekindle the fire. Warmth, it seems, is not in abundance here.
Soon, fresh firewood crackles to life in the hearth, orange flames leaping up the stone and warming my shoulders as I crouch before them. Outside, the wind whips through the treetops and lashes the waves into white froth. It’s beautiful—if beautiful were dangerous.
How did I end up in your grasp? I look to the shore where I arrived. It’s as cold and barren as everything else around here. Did someone try to kill me? Was I running from someone? These questions will haunt me until I either answer them or surrender. I don’t foresee surrendering to anything, even myself.
A soft tapping breaks the quiet. I walk to the door and open it, finding Daisy, bright-eyed and unreasonably awake in a dreary ivory outfit. Behind her, the same older woman from last night slips inside without a word and deposits a tray of bread and steaming coffee onto the side table before attempting to flee.
“Hey!” I call after her.
She pauses at the threshold, both hands balled into tight fists.
“Thank you for all of this. Maybe next time let me help? You don’t have to work this hard over me.” I try to make conversation. She gives a stiff nod before walking off down the hallway. I watch her steady stride until she rounds a corner. What a strange woman.
I return to the table and Daisy drops into a chair opposite me, crossing her legs as if she owns the place. She could own the place. “Ms. Tania loves cooking,” Daisy announces. “She used to be a chef once.”
A pang of sorrow stabs unexpectedly at my chest. I rub the spot, unsure why it hurts.
“Are you okay?” she asks, immediately springing from her position.
“Yeah, just weird body aches.” I pour coffee and offer her a cup, which she politely refuses.
“So…” She begins with a brightness that borders on suspicious, “what do you want to do today? It’s just us in the house. Kieran had to leave on business and will be back in a few days.”
A sting of disappointment cuts through me. I had hoped to corner him with more questions.
Daisy watches me closely. Was she assessing me too? I didn’t trust the allure of her kindness. “I want a hot shower. Not a bath. The tub reminds me too much of the sea.”
“There is a freestanding shower in your bathroom. Also, I put some clothes in the closet.”
I proceed to devour the breakfast of bread and tart jam like a feral creature, while she speaks.
“Do you remember your way to the foyer?” Daisy asks, studying me as she stands to leave.
“Yes,” I reply around a mouthful then I swallow and clear my throat. “It’s weird. I can trace every hallway you walked me through last night. I’m certain I can find my way downstairs.”
“I think we should work on regaining your memories.” Daisy twiddles her thumbs. “I think Kieran is curious to see what you know…”
Her words linger, unsettling and oddly hopeful all at once. Did he have a special interest in my memories? I suppose it isn’t an unreasonable concern. He was harboring a stranger in his home, after all. If I were him, I too would want to know what demons lived in the shadows of this stranger’s mind, what doors her memories would open, what dangers they might usher in. The only problem is, everything is blank.
“Okay, I’m going to take a shower,” I say, wiping my mouth with my sleeve.
“I will see you in a few. Take your time,” Daisy assures me, offering a soft smile. The door closes behind her, leaving me with only the trailing echo of my uncertainty. What if I don’t like what I find out? Did I even want to know? Could I simply crawl beneath the blankets and pretend I was a seed waiting for spring, forgetting the world beyond the blankets entirely?
I pinch the bridge of my nose, silencing the maelstrom of questions within me. A migraine feels inevitable at this point. And I was doing nothing to help myself. I stand and shrug the blanket off my shoulders, then walk over to the shower alcove and turn the knob to the hottest setting. Steam unfurls in thick curls as the pipes clank and groan deep within the walls.
Something knocks repeatedly above me, like a creature pacing along the inside of the walls. I peel off my clothing and step beneath the scorching spray until my skin flushes red. Ice and thunder still rise in my chest when I close my eyes, the memory of nearly drowning claws its way into the present. Only when the heat becomes unbearable do I twist the knob cooler and breathe through the lingering ache.
I study my naked form in the fisheye reflection of the brass shower knob. Short legs, small breasts, an enormous head. A warped caricature of myself, the kind you would see in nightmares where mirrors could could speak.
My mind drifts back to the owner of this house. How strange that he simply left me here in the care of Daisy and that aloof older woman. Do people in this town trust too easily? Or does this owner have his own agenda?
After I have wasted every drop of hot water the house had to give, I step out and dry with a towel that feels more like an itchy wool sweater. The bathroom had filled with steam so dense, wisps of vapor trail after me into the closet.
Daisy’s array of clothes isn’t appealing, but I eventually settle on a woven ivory dress that hugs every slender curve. With no mirror to determine if I look good or not, I leave the room and attempt to navigate the labyrinthine hallways.
I find my way to the foyer within minutes. In daylight the space shimmers with its own cold glory, giving the illusion of inviting grandeur, but as I descend, dread unfurls along my spine. It feels as if the house is holding its breath, awaiting something, someone, or for life itself to return.
