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never to spy on him again. For his part, he didn't

appear to notice or care about my observations. He

talked about Destiny's illness as though it had just

recently been diagnosed, and he always retreated to

his lecture about people who loved each other

standing by each other through thick and thin. If he

realized he was living in an illusion, he drowned the

realization in his drinking. For him, it seemed to be

the answer.

One day, however, he drank a little too close to

a performance. For the first time since I had joined

him, he fumbled and messed up an illusion so badly

the audience actually gasped. He got hold of himself and completed the performance. but I could see the

theater owner looking at him suspiciously afterward. I thought about warning him, talking to him

about the drinking, but every time I started the

discussion, he grew tight-lipped and slightly angry. I

was sure that if I nagged him about it, he would surely

choose the whiskey over me and ask me to go home. I

even considered hiding his whiskey in the hopes he'd

forget and think he had run out of it, but despite his

stupor, he always was quite aware of what was going

on around him. It was troubling. but I didn't know

what to do.

And then, one night, after he had brought the

doll back to the motor home and placed it in the

bedroom, an idea occurred to me. It was a little

frightening even to consider doing it. I was worried

about his reaction. He could easily think I was teasing

or mocking him, and it would surely make him very

angry at me. It could be the cause of his asking me to


Tags: V.C. Andrews Shadows Horror