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“Now, Violet.” Wolfgang kneeled next to my chair, stroking my hair. “If you’re going to make such a commotion, I’m going to have to tape your mouth shut. Do you want me to do that?”
I wanted to get the fuck out of here!What was he doing? Why wasn’t he screaming, too?
I saw the wallpaper behind him and froze. Violets.
My face grew cold as the blood drained from it. Holy fucking shit! He had me in the upstairs bedroom.
Wolfgang tucked a curl behind my ear. “You promise not to make a peep if I remove the cloth?”
I nodded, trying to focus on his blue eyes, wanting to forget the three dead girls sitting at the table with me. A table covered with pink tissue paper, a tiny teapot, and child-sized cups and saucers. A grisly tea party for four, and I was the only living guest.
His teeth gleaming in the candlelight, Wolfgang pulled out the gag. He waited, watching my mouth, then stood. “Good girl.”
I swallowed the taste of cotton and frowned up at him. “What am I … why did you …” I paused, found my left brain, and then with what little calm I could apply to my vocal chords said, “What the fuck is going on?”
He pointed at the nearby dresser. A cake sat on the top, a pink plastic tiara next to it. “It’s a going-away party.”
“For me?” My voice squeaked. I didn’t want to go anywhere. Just home, please. Now!
“No, for Wilda.”
Wilda? Wasn’t that his dead sister? “Why am I here?”
“Wilda insisted.” He grabbed the tiara and placed it on my head. “You’re the guest of honor.”
