“That’s quite a story. You know, that was never my problem, being seen. Oh, I had plenty of problems when I was your age, but being seen was never one of them.” She tries to laugh but lets out a choking sound instead. “But I get it. Or at least, I can be sympathetic to it.” She wipes some spittle from her lip. “I’m not going to tell my husband what you’ve said about us. He’d fire you in an instant. He’s very worked up about this death thing and so nostalgic about the past. If he hears you’ve been bad-mouthing me, it’ll be the end of everything for you. I’ve told the school not to interfere with you either. They are going to let Suzy stay. You may get some glances, some gossip, but that’s nothing compared to what you’ve said about me.” Annie looks down at her gnawed nails again. The floorboards are so clean in this room, immaculate. The outside light bounces off of them.

That must be Christine’s doing, or even Serena’s. Annie and Claudette, the housekeeper, were never instructed to clean this room.

“But I do have a favor to ask of you, the task I mentioned earlier. It actually may benefit you as well. And it shouldn’t be too difficult, since we both know your feelings toward me.” Again, that heavy weighted silence.

“Yes?” Annie all but whispers.

“I’d like you to kill me.” She says it so simply that Annie drags her chair forward, toward the bed, as if she misheard. “It won’t be too difficult. I’m hooked to a morphine drip, and I’ll up the dose so I’ll be totally sedated. Then you can take this pillow right here—” she pats a stray one near her head “—and just put it over my nose and mouth, press down, and wham! I’m gone.”

Annie opens her mouth, then closes it, like a marionette.

“Obviously Nicholas won’t do it. And don’t worry, I’ll get the nurses out of your hair. It’ll be easy. You hate me enough as it is, and I’m not exactly myself, am I? No one will ever know. I’ll make sure of that.”

Annie leans back, tugs at her hair. Her brain hurts. Her companions are silent.

“I only have a week or so left, don’t I? And I’m telling you, this is no way to live. I want out. I want the great beyond. Or nothing. Preferably nothing. As soon as possible.” Annie is silent, gathering her words, a vibration like a trapped insect thrumming behind her left eye. “It’s the least you can do.”

Annie stares at Mrs. Keller, at her wanness, her skeletal frame, her bulbous, alien head. And she feels something soft twist at the very bottom of her stomach, almost like pity.