“She would come.”
“He’ll get her.”
And I need to tell him what I know—know—is true.
“If Nori goes into those trees, he’ll get her. He wants her.”
“Who?”
I take a deep breath. “The Creeper Man.”
When I’ve explained everything to Gowan—all the illogical parts, like the moving trees (which he’s seen for himself), the shape in the woods, Cath’s story, the fact that I’ve seen the Creeper Man—he is pale. I’m not sure if it’s because he believes me, or because he finally realizes I really am off my rocker. Just like I fear.
I don’t mention my theory about my father being in the house because… because his presence in this house doesn’t explain anything besides his voice. And, what, is he sitting in an endless hole just trying to scare me? He’s a monster, sure. But he’s not that patient.
Gowan doesn’t say anything. But then he moves and I think: He’ll leave me now. He’ll finally just go.
Instead, he puts his head on my legs.
We stay like that for a long time, his head resting on my lap, my fingers curling into his hair.
“You asked me once if I loved anything,” I whisper. This time of night, alone in this library, feels special. Our secret. Outside of time. Outside of reality.
“You said you loved your sister, and that was all.”
“And there’s a reason.” I hesitate. Where do I even start? It might be a bit much to say that I find the world lacking. If that’s true, I couldn’t place the blame at the foot of the universe. I’d have to lay it squarely at my own feet.
Instead, I say, “My mother was a weak woman. She married a man who… should never have been a father. For anyone to be cursed with his genes would be punishment enough, without having to cohabit with him.”
“Nori doesn’t seem so bad,” he jokes, smiling up at me.
“She got a lucky escape, unless you remember her teeth, her arm.…”
His smile falters and dies. “You’re perfect, Silla.”
And you’re a fool.
“My mother was like a leech. Needing someone to lock on to. She needed someone stronger than herself. But my father wasn’t strong. He was weak. Weaker than her, even. I was born from weakness, and that’s why I’m so flawed. And that’s why I love my sister and nothing else. She’s a victim of their dependency and cruelty. And I love her for it. But I love something else, too.… I love my anger. It’s solid, pure. Anger doesn’t lie. Anger allows me to carry on.” I close my eyes. “It’s all I have.”
“Silla…”
“Don’t say it again, please.” I can’t hear him tell me I’m perfect one more time.
“You can’t take my opinions away.”
“Even if they’re stupid?”
He grins. “Even then.” He goes very still, eyes taking me in. Eyes, to lips, back to my eyes. “Silla… I want—”
“Don’t.”
But he is going to. He leans in, and my treacherous body responds in kind. The gap between us, which seemed a gulf, is suddenly gone, and his lips are on mine, and his hand is on my cheek and I am losing myself to this kiss.
I fall asleep in his arms, and I think, Maybe there is hope.
My father’s voice is cackling downstairs, calling me on my bull.
16
the mad always are
Four corners around my bed
four demons round my head
one to watch and one to prey,
two to eat my soul away.
Come, little darling, don’t say a word
I am trying to ignore
Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.
his voice as it seeps
And if that mockingbird don’t sing
out of the black hole
Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.
which has gotten bigger again.
No one else can hear it. Only me. So I’m imagining it. It isn’t real. But how perfectly the sound mimics his voice. How clear and ringing and deep the tones. I can believe, just for a moment, that my father—cruel, hard, and (horribly) beloved—is down there. Waiting for me.
I find myself leaning over.
Looking down.
Wanting so badly to just—
give in
—but I can’t. I won’t.
This isn’t real. It’s a hole, for crying out loud. The floorboards have fallen away, that is all. So why does it seem like there may be a tangle of twisting roots, reaching to receive me, lurking down there in the pitch? I sometimes think I half see them.
I step away, which is very, very hard to do, and the hole seems to sigh with disappointment. I sigh, too.
And then I run into the dining room and begin to gather all the chairs. One by one, I place them around the edges of the tiny gulf, a barrier between the pull and me. I call Nori and tell her, while she stands looking solemnly at me, that the hole is a hazard and that she should go no farther than the chairs, not until Gowan has fixed it.
She nods that she understands, but I can see she doesn’t. Not really. She thinks I am being overprotective and maybe just a little bit nutty, but at least I have an excuse.
You won’t get me, I think.
Oh, Silla, darling, the hole laughs in Father’s voice. We’ll just see about that.