Chapters (38)
- Cover
- Dedication
- MARCH
- CHAPTER
- CHAPTER
- CHAPTER
- CHAPTER
- CHAPTER
- CHAPTER
- CHAPTER
- CHAPTER
- CHAPTER
- CHAPTER
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- CHAPTER
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- CHAPTER
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- CHAPTER
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- EPILOGUE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Then she pulled my jaw open and, using some kind of plastic device, shot something into the back of my throat. I began to cough and almost spat it out, but she held my lips shut.
“Swallow,” she said firmly. “Swallow and I’ll let go.”
I had no choice.
“I have a question for you,” she said. “When you get to the institution, what will you tell them about us?”
She stared down at me.
“Will you tell them I give Agatha too much medicine?”
I goggled at her helplessly.
Her eyes narrowed. “You come into my home. You lie, and steal, and sneak around. You poison my daughter’s mind against me. You make my son forget his duty to his family and entice him to put his hands all over your filthy body.” She was looking at me with hard, glinting eyes. “You make up theories about terrible crimes that you think I’ve committed. You snoop through the house and stick your nose in my family’s own personal business. Our history. Our secrets.”
I stared up at her in horror.
“And then you decide one day, after upending our family’s peace and happiness, that you’re just going to saunter out the door? No. No. That’s not how it works, Margot.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Yes,” she said, standing back. “Good. You should be. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“Please—”
“There is nothing you can ask for that you will get tonight,” she said. “You’ve crossed a line. And you’ve hurt my feelings. Now, sit back and relax.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t trust me?” she asked. “You think I’m just a clueless housewife? You think I don’t know what I’m doing? Is that what you’ll tell them? That I give my children too much medicine?”
“No, I won’t,” I said. “I promise.”
She stared at me. “You will, because you’re a child, and you have no idea how important any of this really is. Families like mine built this country, and if anyone is going to keep it moving forward with dignity and honor, it will be us.”
Honor?
“What are you going to do to me?” The loudest I could manage was a whisper. I felt so weak. Exhausted.
“I’m going to do for you exactly what I would do for my own family,” she said crisply. “Take excellent care of you and make sure you get all the medicine you need to be a good girl.”
Then, unceremoniously, she walked out. I heard the click of the lock.
After she left, my head lolled to the side, and I looked around the room. I was far too tired to get up and look for an escape route. Now suddenly I noticed that the windows had bars, and the door was reinforced with metal panels.
No food. No water.