She had a landline in her office. She could get to the phone and call 911, tell them there was an intruder in her home, and that she feared for her life.

She liked that idea more so than attempting to escape her house undetected.

The door opened with a creak.

Shit, Grace is going to hear that, she thought, cringing. But she moved forward across the threshold. The room was dense with shadow, but she had spent so much time in there that she could have navigated the space in full dark.

The wireless handset stood in its cradle on the edge of her desk. The red battery light blinked.

With a sinking feeling, Monica plucked the handset out of the cradle anyway.

No dial tone. She examined the telephone base. The power cord had been snipped in half.

The bitch has been planning this.

“My child?” Grace said. From the nearness of her voice, it sounded as if she were ascending the stairs. “Your mother has returned. Did you slip your bonds? Hmm?”

Monica crept to the office door. She heard Grace’s footsteps on the staircase.

She hid behind the door.

“I brought someone home with me.” Grace chuckled. “It’s an old friend I think you’d love to meet.”

Monica was so focused on the nearness of Grace that couldn’t think about what her mother was saying. Her mother’s heels clicked along the second-floor corridor.

Grace passed by the office doorway, leaving a scent-trail of her beloved rosemary fragrance. She headed toward the bedroom, where Monica had left the door ajar.

Monica edged from behind the door and crossed into the hallway.

“Aren’t you a plucky girl?” Grace said, out of sight in the master bedroom. “I’m quite impressed. But you are my child, so perhaps I shouldn’t be so surprised by your resourcefulness.”

Monica reached the staircase. Gazing down the twenty or so steps almost made her dizzy. She clutched the railing, and started going down, each step driving stakes of pain into her weakened legs.

“You and your many, many sisters have so much in common,” Grace said, from somewhere above and behind her. “All of you tend to fight so valiantly once you realize the end is nigh. But ultimately, your mother always wins.”

Monica kept going down the stairs, sweat trickling into her eyes.

“To be forever young is my destiny,” Grace said. “To think I once believed it was a curse. I was such a fool in my youth, so many, many years ago.”

When Monica made it to the bottom of the steps, she heard Grace’s footsteps closing in. She risked a look over her shoulder.

Grace stood at the top of the staircase. She appeared amused by Monica’s escape attempt, lips turned in a gentle smile.

“You can’t leave, child,” Grace said. “We have a guest waiting for you in the living room. Don’t be rude, go say hello.”