It’s not been long since I last saw her, and yet it feels like eons of time exist between us. She has on an avocado face mask, and the sight causes a pang to slash across my heart-face masks and pedicures were our Friday night thing growing up, and not being there now to indulge in it with her is more than a little unnerving. My sister Ariana answers on the fourth ring, her face lighting up the screen as she shifts it into a video call. Reaching into my pocket, I take out the phone Marcelline set up for me, pulling up one of the few contacts available. Just over the fence sits a stretch of beach, blue water kissing the distant horizon, making me more than a little homesick.
She did, however, assist me in unpacking the belongings Kal had shipped to the island, though seeing the sets of lingerie I’d gotten at my bridal shower made her face flame the color of her hair.Įxhaling, I turn with my hands on my hips, surveying the rest of the yard: the concrete wall bordering the property and hedges left untrimmed, probably to deter peeping Toms the stone patio with sparse furniture, a rusty charcoal grill, and a hot tub in need of a good cleaning the partial garden across from the kitchen windows that seems to function as a bed of weeds only. Marcelline, despite being a permanent fixture in the renovated hotel, refuses to participate. I hadn’t planned on another round across the acreage, but since the internet here is spotty at best and I’m not fully interested in continuing the program I’m currently enrolled in at Boston U, I figured why not. In truth, I’ve already scouted out the Asphodel three times since the day Kal left me in our room. You won’t give me a guided tour so I’m making it up as I go along.” “Are you talking to yourself?” Marcelline calls from the window in the kitchen, close enough that she doesn’t have to scream.
What else could the building possibly be used for?
“You’re not fooling anyone, Kal,” I murmur, narrowing my eyes at the metal bars framing the opaque window and the boards nailed to the front door, barring entry. It’s the only other building on the property, sitting far off to the side like the separation makes it somehow less conspicuous.
The small shack stares silently back at me, the green vines twisting and growing through the stone siding seeming to mock me as I converse with myself. “This is definitely where he tortures people.”
0 kommentar(er)
