Alva was surprised to find she had any tears left, but at Rose’s simple statement they pressed against her throat. Resolutely she pushed them back down and pinned a cheerful smile on her face. She could feel the sunshine through the window, the first bit of warmth she’d experienced since entering the haunting.

“Do you want to go outside?” Alva didn’t know why she asked, except there were no walls outside.

“I’m not allowed,” Rose said, looking longingly at the window. “Mother and Father said they’d take me outside, when they brought me here, but nobody ever does.”

As she spoke, the rest of the walls flickered to white paint and Alva heard the bangs and painful screams she associated with the Bloomingdale Insane Asylum.

She kept the smile on her face. “There’s been a change of rules,” Alva said. “You’re allowed to go outside now, whenever you want. You don’t even have to wait for someone to go with you.”

Rose’s trembling became more pronounced, until it seemed as though her entire chair was shaking. “Not allowed,” she said. “Not allowed, not allowed.” Her voice rose in volume with each word so that by the end she was almost screaming. The light from the window faded.

Alva told herself to be calm.

“Rose, it is allowed,” she said, attempting to blend compassion and firmness in her voice. “We’re going to go outside.”

The woman was sobbing, hunched over in her chair, and Alva saw her hands were tied behind her with thin twine that had cut into her skin. Rage burst in her chest.

“I’m going to untie you,” she said briskly, “and then we’re going outside.”

She looked around the room for something to cut with and found a pair of small manicure scissors on the vanity. They would have to do. She crossed the room and touched Rose’s shoulder to let her know she was there. The woman gasped at the contact and looked up, her eyes wild and vivid.

“Hold still,” Alva said, and hoping desperately Rose would go along with her plan, she leaned over and cut through the twine.

Rose moved her arms in front of her, holding her wrists up in wonder. The deep wounds from the twine healed immediately, so there was nothing but smooth skin.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she said, looking at Alva. “You made it not hurt anymore.”

“It’s never going to hurt again,” Alva said. “Come on then; the sun’s not going to wait for us.”

As if on cue, sunlight flooded the room. They were fully back at Liefdehuis once more. Alva crossed to the door and opened it on to a hallway she barely recognized. The walls were painted a light gold, and an intricately patterned rug covered the smooth wooden floor. This was Rose’s Liefdehuis, Alva realized.