As I undressed for bed, I couldn’t stop myself from checking my reflection in the mirror on the door. Back in the hospital I hadn’t gotten the chance to take a good look at this strange body. With shaky fingers I traced the red A under my bra. The skin was rough and tender. It didn’t exactly hurt but it was uncomfortable. The scar would never fully fade; the knife had cut too deep.
Hesitantly, I raised my eyes to examine myself. Though I’d gained some weight over the last few days, Madison’s body was still frighteningly thin. But even pale and emaciated, Madison looked pretty with her blue eyes, high cheekbones, and long blonde hair. I slipped a nightgown over my head and went to close the blinds, when sudden movement outside the window made me pause.
A figure stood on the other side of the street, clearly watching my window. His hoodie hung low over his eyes and the evening fog obscured the rest of him. It was impossible to make out who he was. Spotting me, he turned and took off running down the street.
It wasn’t Alec. Who was it? The killer? I doubted he had the audacity to show up in front of my house so soon after my return. It was probably just some curious snoop who wanted to have the rumors confirmed.
I rubbed my arms and let down the blinds, double-checking that the window was locked before I finally crawled into bed.
I woke so early that the sun hadn’t even risen. I lay in bed for a while, my eyes taking in my surroundings, my body throbbing dully. I’d managed to keep Madison’s form overnight. That was probably why I felt so sore. I smiled. If I could keep it up during a full night of sleep, maybe the next few weeks wouldn’t be that difficult after all.
My mind returned to the window stalker from the previous night and goose bumps flashed across my skin. Might it really be the killer or just a local reporter pursuing a good story?
The sound of raised voices downstairs made me bolt upright, but it was impossible to hear what was being said. I slipped out of bed and tiptoed into the hall. The rich fragrance of coffee greeted me. My feet were noiseless on the staircase as I lightly padded downstairs. Linda, Devon, and Ronald were all in the kitchen. I pressed myself against the wall and listened.
“He’s only doing his job. They’ve already interviewed her teachers and friends. At least they waited until she was released from the hospital to contact us. That was very considerate of them,” Linda said. Her voice was calm but it was impossible to miss the tension behind it.
“Considerate? They know she doesn’t remember anything. They’ll only make it worse if they interrogate her,” Devon said and he was anything but calm. It was hard to believe that the same guy with the permanent grin was capable of sounding so furious.
A moment of silence followed before Ronald’s deep voice sounded. “I don’t like it either. That’s why I told the police they’ll have to wait a few days. But we’re supposed to keep them updated. If Maddy tells us anything, even if it doesn’t seem significant, we have to report it.”
“If they’d done their job, they would have caught him by now. They don’t have a clue. When Sheriff Ruthledge interviewed me, he seemed totally lost. Maddy doesn’t even know what happened to her. If she hears all the details, she’ll be terrified,” Devon said.
“It’s in the newspapers and all over town. There’s no way we could keep it from her. We have to talk to her before school today, there’s no other choice.”
Linda’s sniffing grew louder. “I don’t want her to find out. I don’t want her to go to school or out of this house. I just want to lock her in her room until they catch that monster.” A chair scraped over the floor. I peeked around the corner. Ronald had moved his chair next to Linda’s and was embracing her.
Devon’s face was buried in his hands. “Who’s going to tell her?” he asked, his voice muffled.
Ronald brushed a wisp of hair from Linda’s face before giving a resolute nod. “I will.”
I turned and hurried up the stairs, my insides churning.
When I entered the kitchen an hour later, Linda didn’t stop fussing, constantly asking if I was sure about going to school, if I felt well, if I’d taken my pills—really placebos that Dr. Fonseca had given me. Ronald looked as anxious as his wife while his gaze followed me from over his coffee cup.
Linda set down a mug in front of me and filled it with coffee. She didn’t say a word, her smile fleeting. In my normal life, I didn’t drink coffee. Had Madison liked her coffee black, or with milk and sugar? That hadn’t been in the file. I turned my attention to the plate, giving Ronald time to gather his courage. Linda’s homemade blueberry pancakes melted on my tongue, my fingers becoming sticky with maple syrup. Ronald folded the newspaper, smoothing over the edges. His hands shook. I wiped my fingers on a napkin, knowing what would come.