Page 174
I am gone.
Chapter 88
Tress
I am helpless, and there is no one to help me. I will do it myself, like always. I grit my teeth, spit, come to my feet. Behind me, a shadow, some movement. I turn in time to see a black tail slip out the front door.
“Run,” I tell it. “Go far.”
Back to the kitchen, I unscrew a light bulb, propping myself against the table for a second to catch my breath, watching as a glimmer of sunlight reaches through the grime on the window.
“I’m coming, Felicity,” I say, making my way to the door.
The steps are hard, my good hand clutching the light bulb, my bad one holding the rail as best it can. I follow the glow of my phone, find the empty socket, screw in the light bulb.
“I’m back,” I tell Felicity.
She doesn’t hear me.
Felicity is dead.
Chapter 89
Tress
There is no movement upstairs as I finish my work, the trowel heavy in my hand, the bricks impossible, but made possible, by dint of my will. I began something, I will finish it. Slowly, I entomb the body of Felicity Turnado.
My best friend.
Chapter 90
Tress
Upstairs again, my bad hand, purple and numb. I pick my way through the people, children no longer, my head clear now. Too clear. I know what I did.
I wake Ribbit, who smiles at me as soon as he opens his eyes. Naked. Trusting. A child. He sees my arm and wants to help, wants to fix it, wants to make everything better. I tell him it is unfixable, and he nods, still drunk, but seeming to understand the finality of unfixable.
We move through the yard, past what used to be William Wilson.
We put the Allan house behind us.
A house that will soon be torn to the ground.
Chapter 91
Felicity
I ask for the boy, as always.
“Hugh?”
His name bounces back to me. Echoed. Rejected.
“Hugh?”
There’s no answer but my voice, saying the same thing. Again.
“Hugh?”
