Chapter 18

EIGHTEEN

"Hello, Miss Rao."A woman's voice woke me from a deep sleep as I gradually opened my eyes. I fully expected to awaken and be on some weathered park bench where a police officer was asking me to leave.

But instead, I was in the room from last night. My new room. A woman with bright blonde hair and thick wrinkles across her forehead and eyes was looking down at me.

"Who are you?" My voice sounded hoarse, my eyes sticky, and my mind completely disorientated.

"Miss Rao, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Carla Cross. I was the one you emailed your inquiry for this position at the Ivory House."

"Carla… Cross." I nodded slowly, remembering her name. "I don't know what happened last night…" But that was a lie; I did remember as I looked around my small new bedroom. I remembered Misha's body gushing blood; I remembered her striking face, lifeless, as her thin body folded over. I remembered lifting a sharp knife as Dr. and Mrs. Ivory walked out and assumed I had done the heinous crime.

But I didn't. I'd never… right?

My heart began to race as my chest tightened. My mind desperately tried rationalizing with itself, not knowing fact from fiction.

"Miss Rao, you were found covered in Misha Stover's blood after her throat was slit, and your fingerprints were all over the knife that matched the cut. Here are the images from the cameras that point at the gardens." Carla neatly lined up the black and white photos across my lap as my mouth parted in shock. This was huge misunderstanding.

I didn't murder her, I didn't…

I had found her.

"No, I swear to you, I didn't do it." I lifted an image as tears began to pour out of my eyes. It looked terrible. There I was, holding the knife with Misha's body in my arms, faced away.

It didn't matter what I said. According to these photos, I was guilty.

They were going to call the police. Then the police would find out about my past. They'd find out that these pictures weren't lying because this wasn't the first time I held a knife in my hand with a young girl bleeding out in front of me.

The difference was yes, I had killed her, but not Misha. No, I didn't. I'd never hurt someone. I was forced to the first time. I was…

"Demi." Dr. Ivory came in, followed by a woman pushing a small silver cart, who was wearing a short dress and an old-fashioned nurse's hat. The cart didn't make a sound—the wheels didn't even screech against the floor. My breathing hitched as panic settled in. What is this place?

"Dr. Ivory! You have to help me! I didn't do this…" I began, waving the images around.

"Demi, how can you deny what these images are clearly depicting?" He glanced back at the nurse who stabbed a needle into the small vile. Tap, tap, tap. Her nail clicked against the needle as contents of it sputtered out.

"No, I swear to you. I found Misha out there, and she was… swinging and bleeding, and then I think I fainted?" The words coming out of my mouth sounded incoherent and so loud, my ears were ringing.

But he wasn't looking at me; instead, he nodded at the nurse behind me, who moved slowly and held the needle as if it were an award.

"Demi, you murdered Misha. We have the images here and video footage from our security staff." My lips parted as I stared at the man in front of me. Platinum blonde, meticulously brushed hair, the sharpest and brightest green eyes imaginable, and not a wrinkle in sight.

"Dr. Ivory, I think I just need to leave. Can you call Raina? She lives down the road…" I started as the nurse grew closer and stopped right by my arm.

I felt exhausted and my body ached. It had to be well past midnight. The entire day had come and gone, but it felt like it was ten days built into one. Attempting to pull myself upright in the plush bed, I couldn't, as if my limbs were paralyzed.

"Demi, the thing is, once you're a part of our… family, we protect you. Luckily, you signed the contract and now are ours." Dr. Ivory wiggled his index finger at the nurse, who immediately flashed me a smile before bending and grabbing my arm.

"Oh no, I'm not sick, I'm fine!" I looked between both the nurse and Dr. Ivory.

"You need rest, darling Demi. Tomorrow is your first work day and, my dear, you made quite the… bloody mess out in the peony garden. You'll need to clean that up as your first task." Dr. Ivory patted the top of my head before leaning down and kissing my forehead. "Sweet dreams, Demi." He turned and left.

What? He wanted me to clean up Misha's blood? They thought I killed her?

No… I didn't. Looking at the nurse as she slid the needle into my flesh, it occurred to me…

What if I did kill her?

The problem with trauma is that when you experience something that disturbs your mental equilibrium, you don't know if you can even trust yourself. You don't know if your mind is honest and if it's capable in remembering things accurately. Considering, I had… I had held a knife in my hand and taken an innocent life before—one I loved with all my heart. What if I blacked out? What if I blanked?

Is the Ivory family now protecting me? Is this what it's like to have a family?

Grinning at the nurse, I let go of the tangled breath in my lungs. I closed my eyes and went to sleep.