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Chapter 16
“Have your run of the house.”
What I first interpreted as a cruel joke turns out to be far more nuanced once I inch my way into the hall, alternating arms to wheel myself along. Things I never noticed before take on a newer context. Like how, despite the obvious age of the manor, the rooms sport newer doors, slightly wider than most. Or at least I assume so given how easy I can maneuver my chair through them.
Aljona. Perhaps, after all this time, I’ve finally learned the real name of the woman haunting Mischa. Not Anna-Natalia, but his sister. A twin.
They left her there, twisted in the wreckage.
Was this chair hers once upon a time?
I wander aimlessly, creeping down the hall at a snail’s pace, hunting for clues from a new perspective. I wonder if her room was the red one. Perhaps those clothes were hers. The perfume. The red bed with its heavy canopy.
No. Mischa would hide her memory somewhere more sacred than that. Perhaps down this hall I can’t remember venturing in before? The soft carpet cushions the wheels of the chair and I only have to use half the effort. At random, I stop beside a door and open it.
I don’t find a bedroom at the other end—or a figurative crypt. Instead, a section of the floor pitches gradually into shadow. Almost like a stairwell, but devoid of steps. Without thinking, I run my hand along the nearest wall, finding a light switch.
Orange light illuminates what could be a wooden slide that curves toward the interior of the house.
My throat goes dry as I ease myself along the curving path. It’s no longer than the servant’s staircase at Winthorp Manor. Within seconds, I’m on the lower level of the house. Back near the dining room, I suspect.
So Mischa wasn’t lying about having a sister.
The reality of that fact stuns me, leaving me motionless in a shadowed section of the hall. All the things he said take on a new context. The pain in his voice. More than that: the skill and care with which he cleaned me. Cared for me.
And maybe now I know the real reason as to why he was so angry with me. Ironically enough, I doubt even he knows the answer. At its core, it’s the same reason why Robert Sr. hated me.
I’m not his sister. If anything, I’m just a stark, painful reminder that she’s gone.
And what he’s become.
A monster.
A murderer.
My tormentor.
Lost in thought, I maneuver myself backward and escape up the ramp. Minutes later, I’m back inside the white room, and I risk injuring myself again just to crawl onto the mattress. It isn’t long before Vanya delivers another meal.
When he’s gone, I wait, somehow knowing what’s in store before I even hear the heavy footsteps thud against the floor. When he appears in the doorway, he looks more ragged than he did earlier. His hair has been scraped into a messy knot on the top of his head, his jaw lined in a five-o’clock shadow. With little fanfare, he strips his shirt in the darkness but leaves his jeans on as he advances on the bed.
“I know you’re awake, Little Rose,” he calls to me. “I can smell you there, fucking festering in your haughty little pride. You got pretty far, even hobbled. Maybe I’ll take the chair? Make you crawl? I’d love to see you always on your knees…”
I stiffen beneath the sheets. Did he sense me there in the hallway after all? But no. He sounds more callous than vengeful. Aggravated. Once again, something has him itching for a fight.
And a part of me feels exhausted enough to give him one. Let him play his silly game.
“Tell me about your sister,” I demand, lunging for the one topic that I suspect affects him the most. “What was she like?”
He stops in his tracks, impossible to read in the shadow. “My sister?” he echoes thickly. “She was better thanyou.”
“You never mentioned her before,” I point out, ignoring his insult. “Why? You talked about your mother. Anna. Never her.”
My skin prickles, and I can imagine his expression: eyes narrowed, spitting fire.
“Maybe you aren’t worthy enough to hear her fucking name?” he challenges.
But there’s more to it than that. It’s in the pain lurking in his voice. The gritted, grated undertone to every word.
