Who could mourn for a murderer, a demon in human shape? Instead she tried to go Charlotte's throat felt tight, bitter. When she woke they were in Cambridge and almost home, but her head ached and her throat felt dry and sore. Beyond, Anne and David appeared at the top of the stairs, followed by her father.
And the beast was real life. Tears made pin-pricks of light in his daughter's eyes. She's only happy hiding with her books—aren't you, Charli? Charlotte hated their attention, hated the unthinking cruelty of Madeleine's words. Others might not have been.
Join the newsletter to receive news, updates, new products and freebies in your inbox.