Every time Mum walked in, she frowned at my blank walls and said something about making it my own. It’s her way of saying this is forever. But that makes it worse. I’m happy that she’s happy. I don’t need new wallpaper to feel that.

“So where are these holes again?” Jay asks.

When I show him, he nods and says, “I doubt it’s anything sinister.”

It worries me how some people dismiss things because they don’t want to have to deal with anything “bad.”

“Bad” happens…a lot. And there are always clues if you know where to look. But some people suffer too long, and others get away with so much because people like Jay can’t or won’t see it. That’s not me ragging on him. It’s a fact. It’s why murderers like the Magpie Man and the Tinder Trap killed again and again.

I’ll always look for people’s secrets and question why a door has more holes than it should.

“You are super paranoid,” Nia says, like it’s a bad thing. I want to ask her about St. Gregory’s Academy, because that’s what Amy was upset about. I want to ask if it’s bad there. But we don’t have actual conversations. Mum and Jay never forced us to like each other. I think they knew that wouldn’t work, because my stepsister has two real friends and treats everyone else like a bad smell. She’s not a mean girl. She’s just selective with who she’s nice to. “What the fuck?” she mumbles.

When Jay says, “Nia!,” she points at the wall.

I can’t see it until Jay steps back and turns to Mum with a weird look on his face. But, when I do, I can’t take my eyes off it.

Under the wallpaper, in tiny black letters, it says HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME over and over again.

“That’s creepy,” Nia says. But it’s more than that.

It means I was right about the locks. Even if it happened before Amy lived here, someone was trapped, pleading for help.

Jay touches the words, then breathes out slowly. “We’ll paint over that.”

And maybe it’s my imagination, but, as he leaves, it looks like he glances at the holes in my door, his eyes showing the fear he’s been trying to ignore.

24

“Did you decorate your old bedroom?”

Amy raises her eyebrows and says, “What?”

“Your old room—my new room—did you choose your own wallpaper?”

She doesn’t reply right away, and, when she does, she sounds doubtful.

“I think so. Dad probably did it. We lived there a long time.”

“How long?”