OLIVIA. It’s just a cold. You don’t run to doctors for just a cold.

CATHY. You don’t, maybe. It isn’t warm enough up here now. He needs fresh air. This has to end!

Carrie starts to cry.

CORRINE [softly but firmly]. You’re making it all worse, Cathy.

CATHY. Yeah, right. It’s my fault we’re locked in an attic.

CORRINE [to Christopher]. I’ll get cough medicine for him and bring up a thermometer. Get him to drink hot tea.

OLIVIA. I’ll give you some honey.

Corrine tries to put Cory back to bed, but he clings.

CORY. Momma, I’m sick.

CORRINE. You’ll be all right, Cory. I need to go get you some medicine. Just do what Christopher tells you. Please.

She peels his arms off her, and he sobs. Cathy turns away.

CORRINE. Keep him warm. I’ll be back soon.

Corrine starts out.

OLIVIA. I’ll bring some hot soup later.

Olivia follows Corrine out and closes the door. The lock clicks.

CATHY. Angels of mercy, both of them. If he was having an appendix attack, the old witch would use a bread knife.

CHRISTOPHER. Stop, you’re scaring him.

CATHY. I was hoping to scare you.

Scene 13

Older Cathy steps into the spotlight as the lights dim. For a moment, she watches Christopher and Cathy calming both Cory and Carrie. They tuck them in and look at each other before lying down beside them.

The lights darken, and Older Cathy turns to the audience.

OLDER CATHY. Cory got better, but it took ten days. He was weaker because of it, and Carrie, because they were so close, was as depressed as he was. The two of them would sleep longer and longer. No matter how hard Christopher tried, coming up with new ideas, games and things to do, they drifted farther and farther away from us.

She starts across the stage, then pauses.

OLDER CATHY. To keep myself from going mad, I worked out as much as I could. Christopher got his laptop, but he had no Internet connection. The whole concept was alien to our grandparents, apparently. Our grandmother said that Satan had found a new way to get into people’s hearts and souls. Christopher did what he could, using the computer to keep the twins intrigued, but their concentration levels got lower and lower. I hoped he was losing his patience, too.

She continues walking and pauses at stage right.

OLDER CATHY. Momma tried everything, bringing the twins more toys, Christopher more books, and me more cosmetics, shampoos, and hair sprays. “What for?” I would ask her. “Where am I going?” We had lost track of time and didn’t even realize Thanksgiving had come and gone. Christopher had lost interest in his laptop, because he couldn’t get on the Internet and do real research. I started to use it. He asked me what I was doing, and I told him I was writing a diary. “About what?” he asked. “About ‘Flowers in the Attic,’ ” I said. That’s what we came to call ourselves. He tried to make a joke of it, telling me to be sure to include our theatrical performance, but I knew he realized that I was writing something I would throw back into Momma’s face someday. Of course, Momma was promising us all sorts of wonderful Christmas presents to come. And my brother . . . my brother continued to believe it would all come out wonderfully. Especially when she gave us our present that special night.