The Dead Girls of Hysteria Hall

 

And then I understood why Aunt Cordelia had dragged herself out to the road before committing suicide. Why she hadn’t let herself die on the property.

 

Because then she would have been stuck forever.

 

Like me.

 

 

 

 

 

My voice turned to granite. “No,” I said. “Maybe the rest of you couldn’t do it, but I can. I will.”

 

Theo shrugged. “Maybe you can. Best of luck to you.”

 

Then he disappeared.

 

I felt a beat of sadness and then turned to check on the car. It was nearing the trees—which meant the gate.

 

Which meant the exit.

 

I ran ahead. Between the rusted metal gates, I could see the line where the rubble of the asphalt met with the smooth gray ribbon of highway.

 

Theo’s wrong, I thought again. I want this more than they all do. They just never wanted it enough.

 

And then I plunged forward, toward the road. Best-case scenario, I’d go right through the gate. Then I could just walk home to Atlanta. Who cared, right? I had all the time in the world. Worst-case, I’d be bounced back like when I tried to cross the walls inside the house.

 

What I hadn’t counted on was an absolute rock-bottom scenario—

 

—In which a stunning electric shock went through me, tensing every nonexistent muscle in my nonbody, sending my upper and lower jaws slamming into each other, setting my ears ringing, and landing me flat on my back, stunned. Possibly paralyzed.

 

I lay on the ground staring up at the trees, feeling like I might have melted into the earth, wondering if I had somehow become fused to the dirt itself—if, instead of being condemned to roam the house and grounds, I was now essentially buried alive. Unable to move, but able to look up at the sky … to see every raindrop and snowflake that might fall on me. To be gradually overgrown by the tall grasses in the spring.

 

Then Theo appeared again. I felt a rush of gratitude as he stood looking down at me, his expression significantly softer than it had been before.

 

“I tried it, too,” he said gently. “Just do yourself a favor and don’t do it again, all right?”

 

Theo leaned down and slowly, carefully, helped me ease up into a sitting position. Then he knelt beside me.

 

His eyes squinted slightly as he stared at the road. “It’s early days,” he said. “It’ll get easier, I promise.”

 

I don’t believe you, I thought.

 

My parents’ car seemed to be speeding up a bit. Only about twenty feet of driveway separated it and the gates. In the amount of time I used to spend doing my eye makeup, my family would be out of sight forever. Dad, Mom, Janie, and Uncle James were all looking ahead toward the highway, probably glad to be leaving and shutting the door on this terrible place.

 

But how could they not know, on some cellular level, that what they were really leaving behind was me? How could they not feel it?

 

I needed something to hold on to. Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed Theo’s hand.

 

He tensed and yanked his fingers out of mine.

 

“I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling embarrassed. I hadn’t meant anything romantic by it—that was absolutely the farthest thing from my mind—but things were probably different back when Theo was alive. Maybe the gesture signified more back then. My cheeks burned.

 

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry,” Theo said, staring at our hands, which were inches apart. “It’s just that I haven’t touched anyone since I died. To be honest, I haven’t even talked to anyone.” He paused. “Not until you.”

 

I nodded, and then a moment later, I felt his hand reach out and take mine.

 

He swallowed hard, like there was a lump in his throat, then gave me a self-conscious grin. “You don’t know how much you miss something until you get it back,” he said.

 

I was too miserable to smile back. But his touch gave me strength. I thought, I can do this. I have a friend now. The unbearable pain of knowing my family was leaving lessened a little.

 

Until I looked back at the car.

 

It was halfway through the gate.

 

Before I could stop myself, I was back on my unsteady feet, staggering toward the gate.

 

“Come back!” I screamed. “Mom, Dad, Janie—come back!”

 

Theo grabbed me by the elbow a couple of feet shy of the property line. “They can’t hear you,” he said. “You’re just going to tire yourself out.”

 

All at once, time ramped up to normal speed. And the car stopped—this time for real. I held my breath as my father’s door opened. But then he walked past me and grabbed one of the rusted gates, and slowly pulled it through the brush and dirt until it was blocking half the driveway. Uncle James got out of the car and came to help him drag the other side. Then my uncle handed my father a metal chain and a spinning combination lock.

 

As Uncle James got back in the car, my father stood on the other side of the metal bars, about two feet away from me. And he locked the gate.