Chapter 6

After dinner, I step outside and walk across the front porch, leaning up against the stone railing. The evening air is cool and quiet, except for the sounds of crickets and frogs singing from somewhere in the woods behind the house. Down beyond the gate, I can vaguely see the lights of the houses next door. It must be some of the women who were here before—the ones I don’t know.

I’m not sure why it bothers me so badly that Cole knows things about Vera’s life that I don’t. Of course he does. He remained here, and I didn’t. I still remember the day I moved into Bitter House—he was skinny as a rod back then, dark hair hanging into his eyes, that same cocky grin. I’d seen him around before, of course, during holidays when I was younger, but I never thought much about him. He and Edna kept to themselves and gave our family plenty of space. After I moved into Bitter House, he’d lock himself in his room for hours listening to that stupid metal music that sounded like someone was screaming at him. He acted like I didn’t exist, as if it was his house and I was the intruder.

Perhaps that’s why this has triggered so many conflicting emotions for me now. In a way, not much has changed since I was the little girl with two dead parents moving into a house with people who didn’t seem to want me there.

For the most part, Vera was locked away in her room, too, or traveling on some luxurious vacation that didn’t allow children.

If it wasn’t for Edna, I would’ve been alone in this big old house, filled with nothing but silence. She taught me how to braid my hair, how to play mancala. She introduced me to rom-coms and helped me with my school projects. I spent more time with her than her own son did, and yet she’d still choose him again and again. And so would Vera.

So had Vera, in fact. While I was kicked out at eighteen, Cole was allowed to stay here, and to come around in general, for much longer.

I’ll never understand what was so wrong with me that no one wanted me around. That I was a burden and a nuisance to everyone who wasn’t being paid to be kind to me.

A shiver runs over my body, and I turn back toward the house but stop short. On the mat is another letter, bent in the middle where it’s clearly been stepped on.

I didn’t notice it when I came outside. This envelope has no red ribbon around it, but it is marked clearly with a number one in the center. The first of six secrets.

I pick it up and tear it open this time, no longer trying to maintain the condition of the packaging. Inside the house, I lay the envelope down on the counter and open the folded letter.

The typed font is the same as the last one.

Bridget,

I’m sure by now you’re questioning why you should trust me and, of course, who I must be. Don’t worry. If you’re still here, if you’ve stuck with me on this, you won’t have to wait long for one of those answers. I’m going to earn your trust right now.

I have proof, you see. Proof that Vera Bitter was never the woman you thought you knew. She was a very good actress who never took off her mask, even for those who knew her best.

Vera Bitter was dangerous. She hurt people.

In her bedroom, there is a false wall in the back of her closet. Move it and you’ll see what I mean.

Remember: whatever happens, don’t make any decisions yet. There are more secrets to come soon.

Signed,

A friend