A curious expression crosses Mrs. Green’s face. “Are they here?” she asks. Her nostrils flare. “What are they saying? What secrets are they telling you?”

“Please…” I say. “We’ll never tell anyone. I promise. Just let us go.”

With wide eyes Mrs. Green studies the corner, scanning the walls and the dirt floor. She seems lost in a distant memory, the past unfolding before her. “And Claire? My Claire, is she here?”

I don’t answer Mrs. Green at first. The reality that my curse could give me some leverage is a small victory.

“You answer me, girl,” Mrs. Green says. She places the sharp end of the scissors against my cheek. The pain is succinct and piercing. “Is she here?” Mrs. Green asks again.

Tears wet my face. The girls stand silently, but something’s happening in the shadows behind them. Something’s stirring from the darkness. Four more pale faces appear, all little girls. They drift into the light, joining the others.

“Oh, God,” I say. “They’re all here.”

Mrs. Green blinks. “All…of them?” She falters, studying the corner. I’m amazed how my words affect her. She slouches, her eyes scanning the walls. The fact that she can’t see them and I do unnerves her in a way I never would have expected.

“Where?” Mrs. Green says. “Where are my girls? I think you’re lying. What do you see? Tell me what you see.” She pushes the scissors harder into my cheek. A small bead of blood drips down my chin.

“There are seven of them,” I say. “They’re…disfigured. Some have stitched lips. Shattered jaws. Missing tongues. Teeth.” I close my eyes, trying to get away from their sad stares. “They’re looking at you and only you,” I say.

Mrs. Green backs away from me, stumbling to the corner. I breathe deeply from this small respite, but it doesn’t last long. Soon, I feel other eyes on me.

Herman. He looks me up and down, as if assessing my flesh. I’m not sure what sick things he’s thinking, but I never want to find out. His towering frame comes closer and then slips behind my chair. I strain to see what he’s doing, but can’t move my head very far. Oh, God. Oh, God. What is he doing? I feel the bindings loosening.

Before Herman can get all the tape off, Mrs. Green whirls around. “Wretch,” she hisses. “You’d betray the woman who protected you? And for what? A pretty face?”

Herman slowly moves away from my chair. It churns my stomach to think of what he’s capable of, and what he would do to me if Mrs. Green weren’t here. “Please,” I say. “I can be useful to you. You want them gone? You want peace? I can help them go away. I can talk to them.”