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But maybe it is.
Maybe I am crazy.
Maybe Dr. Stevens hasn’t been helping me at all.
Maybe….
Ms. Evans runs past Louisa and tries to reach for my hand as I grab another vase and throw it against the wall as I scream to the world. Rage fills me. A pure, uncontrollable rage. Why? Why did this happen to me? Why did Papa Rich do this to me? Why do I have to live in New York hating every day that passes because I feel like a stranger in my own body and in my own existence?
I don’t belong here!
I don’t belong!
“She’s lost her goddamn mind,” Louisa shouts as she reaches in her pocket for her phone. I know she’s going to call Christopher.
“Stop!” I scream as I lunge for the woman’s hand. “Don’t you call him! Don’t you dare!”
The ringing in my ears won’t stop. The voices are getting louder. They’re screaming at me to leave. To run far away and never look back. The straw is here. They are here.
But maybe I want them to be.
Maybe I want to run to them instead of away.
Maybe I want to beg for forgiveness and hope Papa Rich will take me back.
Is that crazy?
Yes, that’s fucking crazy!
“Ember,” Ms. Evans says with an even voice as she takes a cautious step toward me. “Calm down. It’s just us. Calm down. Everything’s going to be okay.”
I can see Ms. Evans is scared. So is Louisa. I don’t blame them. I’d be scared of me too. But they should be so much more terrified of who is lurking in the shadows of this house. Papa Rich will kill them both for keeping me in this house. In his eyes, he’ll see it as the ultimate sin. They will pay.
“You better run,” I warn. “He’s here.” I pick up another glass vase and hold it like a weapon, ready to attack. “If he finds you, if he finds you both, you’re dead.”
“No one’s here,” Ms. Evans says calmly. “It’s just the three of us.” She tries to reach for the vase, but I only lift it higher and angle my body so she can’t. “You don’t need that vase. You’re safe.”
Louisa takes this opportunity to dial her phone. She takes several steps away from me and calls Christopher. I know she is. And good. He needs to be here. Not to protect me, but to protect them.
“Look,” I say, bending down to my knees and pulling the pieces of straw from the broken glass. “Straw!” My finger is bleeding from cutting it on the glass, which drips off the straw. “You see it now, don’t you? Straw!”
Louisa screams into the phone. “She’s holding a vase, ready to hit us. She told us to run and that we’re in danger. She’s breaking all the vases and screaming. Christopher, she’s out of control. Hurry! Hurry! She’s going to hurt us.”
I’m not going to hurt them. Not me. But yes, they are in danger!
20
Ember
“Go to our room now!” Christopher shouts as he points to the stairs.
“You don’t understand! They’re here! They’re here!”
“You’re out of control!”
“Listen to me. He’s here! Or at least he was!”
Christopher marches toward me and places his hands firmly on my shoulders. “Ember, listen to me. I just searched this house from top to bottom. There is no one here! No one has ever been here. This is all in your head. Do you hear me?” He’s screaming now. He’s shaking me as tears run down my face and my heart beats out of my chest. “You are losing your mind and bringing me to the loony bin with you!”
“You have to listen to me—”
“I warned you, Christopher,” Louisa interrupts. “I told you that the girl needs help. Serious mental help that we aren’t equipped to handle here. She’s needs to be committed. She needs to be put away, so she doesn’t hurt herself or someone else.”
I spin on my heels, breaking free from Christopher’s hold. “Shut up! Shut up!” I hate her words. I hate that she is telling my husband I need to be away from him. “Shut up!” My screech is so loud and high-pitched that I wonder if it will shatter the vases I haven’t managed to ruin.
Christopher takes hold of my upper arm and shakes me. “Our room, now! Ember, I swear to God, go to our room!”
Louisa has her hand on her chest and acts like I punched her. I want to punch her. I do. How dare she tell my husband I need to leave him and that he needs to leave me? How dare she?
“I have a very important party to be at tonight,” Louisa says as she fans her face. “How am I expected to function when I have a madwoman living under my roof?”
I look up to Christopher’s dark eyes and consider engaging further but decide we need to talk in private. So rather than saying another word, I charge to our room and throw myself on the bed, crying in rage, fear, and frustration.
