“You did this,” Cathy whispers, looking out into the woods. “You tricked her. You lured her, wooed her, then you crept up and killed her. You’re a monster. A Creeper Man. You’re the Creeper Man.”
A legend born, right here.
I close my eyes for the aunt I never knew, for the pain I never realized Cath and my mother shared—for the darkness born that day. When I open them, we are inside, and Cathy is standing, drenched, in front of Pamela. My mother, but as a child. So strange.
“This is on you,” Cathy says. She slaps my mother before I even see it coming.
Pamela cries out and grabs her cheek. Starts to cry.
“This is all your fault,” Cath spits. “I will never forgive you.”
“Cathy—”
“Don’t talk to me again. You’re a killer. You let her go out there alone while you hid in the closet, and he killed her. The Creeper Man killed her! It should have been you.”
With that, she turns away, leaving my little mother sobbing behind her.
Oh, no. Is this what I am born of? Is this the pain that is passed on in my family?
We have no right to children if despair is all we bring with us.
30
s i n k i n g
Hush now, baby
don’t mind the roar
that’s just your tummy
asking for more.
BROKEN BOOK ENTRY
A man was in the woods today. Nori told me that she spent a long time talking to him. His coat was ripped and his face was blotchy with red sores, but she said she wasn’t afraid because he had a friendly smile. She even took his hand to prove she wasn’t afraid and drank some of his water. She is a stupid child sometimes. Do I teach her to be afraid, as Mam would have me do? To feel fear when something unfamiliar comes? Do I teach her to be defensive, as Dad would? Is that the right thing to do? Or do I bestow kindness, the way Cath might tell her? I’m just glad he’s gone.
I’m in the cave again. “You knew.”
Gowan looks tired. So tired. “Yes.”
“You weren’t just here to fix the garden.”
“No.”
“You were in my past. I just didn’t remember.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I couldn’t. I can’t.”
“Why… where did you go? Why?”
“I came back.”
“I don’t remember.”
“I know.”
I close my eyes.
“Please,” Gowan says. “Keep going.”
I can’t hold on anymore. I am so tired.
When I open my eyes, I’m standing on the lip of the hole in the entrance hall. Only there is no entrance hall now, the hole has taken over the entire space. A chasm at my feet.
I understand, my father’s voice says. It is so warm. I understand, my daughter, about being tired. Rest now. Come with me and you can rest your head.
I sway. I want to. How easy it would be.
“Please, Silla…” Gowan whispers. “You’re strong. You’re so close.”
I look at him. “Why are you here?”
I recognize that tension in his face. It’s been there ever since he came to La Baume to “fix the garden.” It’s like he wants to say something to me, but he can’t.
At last, he says, “To help you.” His eyes fall, and I see his hopelessness. “To love you.”
His words. His face. His voice. I remember him. I remember my love for him, and I feel a new love for him, one that grew all over again when I didn’t know who he was.
And I fall into him. His arms come around me right away, and my lips meet his. Perfect fit, something inside me says. I kiss him and I hug him and I never want to let go. This feels urgent and desperate. Completely vital.
“Help me,” I whisper.
“I’m trying,” he says.
I allow him to lead me back through the Python manor, away from the hole—far away from it—but I can’t stop my mind from thinking about everything I’ve seen. Especially… that…
My little Nori, reduced to that. It can’t be real. It just… can’t.
Not again. I can’t take this anymore.
La Baume. The kitchen. I watch myself mash up peanuts, like I’ve done a million times before. The other me adds sugar and a little butter. She mixes it up, fiercely. I can see she is trying not to cry. When she’s done, she turns, revealing Nori standing behind her, and hands the mess over.
I step forward without thinking. But something is wrong.
Nori eats the peanut butter slowly
something is wrong
and it looks
like the effort is gigantic.
She swallows it down and smiles at the other me something is wrong
trying to reassure the other me—I’m okay, Silla, I really am, her eyes say—but then she vomits it all back up, curling over and heaving like her body won’t take the food it is offered. So familiar. I know this feeling well.
And now I see it.
Nori is sick. She’s very, very sick.
The other me says, “Don’t worry,” because Nori looks so ashamed of herself, but then Nori sits down very suddenly, looking dazed and thirsty, so the other me gathers her up and carries her upstairs.
I don’t want to follow.
I follow.
I stay.
I watch.