“What?” I whispered, trying and failing to look away. Why couldn’t you look away from something bad? It’s like we’re all programed to punish ourselves.
“No, please. Clover, I’m sorry, please don’t,” she begged, holding her hands out in front of her and crouching slightly in surrender. He shook his head. Deep, heavy breaths burst from his lungs. I could only see the side of his face from where I was standing, but what I saw of it was cold and detached. “You’re right. I am so sorry. We are a family. You’re my family, and I forgot that for a second. Please forgive what I said. I should have never doubted you.” She shook her head. “You’ve always done what’s best for us. If it wasn’t for you, we’d all probably be dead now. You saved us. All you do is take care of us, and I treated you badly just then. I’m so very sorry.”
He tilted his head and his eyes softened. He stood taller with pride. What just happened? Was that how it worked, stroke his overinflated, screwed-up ego and you had a chance?
I held my breath as time stretched in front of us. The only noise was his and Violet’s heavy breathing. Rose and Poppy stood wide-eyed as they waited for his decision. The atmosphere was heavy and tense.
Rose was the first one to relax her shoulders as he lowered the knife in his hand. “I forgive you, Violet,” he said and turned to walk away without another word. I watched on, eyes bulging and frozen from the shock and fear. My lips were dry, and my nose stung from the citrus smell of lemon cleaning products.
Rose, Poppy, and Violet silently sat on the sofa and held hands while I stood stock still, like an idiot waiting to wake up.
3
SUMMER
Saturday, 24th July (Present)
“What was that?” I whispered, staring at the closed, heavy cellar door. The thing was thick, like it’d been reinforced or something.
“It was my fault. I shouldn’t have questioned him,” Violet said from behind me.
I recoiled in horror and turned to look at her. “Your fault? What you said was right. Was he seriously going to stab you then?” I wanted at least one of them to say no. Their silence said everything.
“Come and sit, Lily. We’ll answer whatever you want to know,” Rose said, stroking Violet’s shaking hand. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know anything.
Gulping my fear down, I sat on the end of the sofa. We just about fit on it all together; he must have bought it especially for four people. I was surprised that it was so comfortable. Everything down here, minus the smell, was comfortable and homey. The soft light-blue of the walls and light wooden surfaces and table made it look inviting. If the cleanly smell weren’t so potent, it would be a gorgeous room. It was completely out of place in this psychopath’s house.
“What do you want to know?” Rose asked. Her blue eyes were as calming as the color of the walls.
“He was going to stab her, wasn’t he?” She nodded once in reply. I took a deep, ragged breath. “Because she tried to stand up for me?” I was aware that I was talking to Rose as if we were alone, but from the second I got down here and she offered me her hand, she’d been the one taking the lead. She was like the big sister.
“That’s correct.”
I licked my dry lips. “Has he done that before?”
Her eyes darkened, losing that friendliness. “Yes, he has.”
“You’ve seen that?”
“Yes.”
“They died,” I said just above a whisper.
She nodded, her body tensing. “He’s killed, yes.”
I looked behind her and saw Violet shrinking into Poppy. He had killed people and no one knew a damn thing. How was that even possible? I shook my head in disbelief. “I don’t get it. How does he get away with it?” Surely people would notice someone missing? I’d never seen Rose, Poppy, or Violet on the news or stuck to lampposts.
“The girls he chooses are usually living on the streets. If no one notices they’re missing, then no one will suspect anything is wrong,” Rose said and tucked her dark hair behind her ear. “I ran away from my family when I was eighteen. We had never been close and our relationship was…strained. My father”—her eyes darkened and her posture shrank—“liked to drink and didn’t like us.” It looked as though sadness and terror suddenly consumed her. “Shortly after my eighteenth birthday, I left home. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I’d been living on the streets and in hostels for ten months when Clover found me. I’ve been here almost three years now.” She shrugged like being here was nothing.
I was stunned. How did she do it? I would have gone bloody crazy after three weeks. My chest tightened so much I felt like I was gonna collapse. This wasn’t temporary.
“Please don’t cry, Lily. It’s really not that bad down here,” Rose said.
I stared at her, trying to work out if she had actually lost it. She sounded crazy. Not that bad? He’d kidnapped us. He was keeping us locked up in his cellar. He would rape us when he “fell in love” with us, and if we dared to fight back, he would kill us. How was that really not that bad?
“Please don’t look at me like that. I know what you’re thinking, but if you do what he says, everything will be fine. He’ll treat you well.”
She must be crazy. “Apart from raping me, you mean?”
“Don’t call it rape in front of him,” she warned.
I looked away from her. I couldn’t believe what she was saying. How could she think this was okay? It was beyond screwed up, but she was still defending him. She couldn’t have always been like that. They must have been a time where she knew it was crazy and hated him as much as I do. How long did it take him to brainwash her?
Poppy, Violet, and Rose stood up at the same time—in perfect synchronization—and walked to the kitchen area. They spoke in hushed voices. I could barely hear their whispers, but from the way that Violet looked over, it was obvious they were talking about me. I didn’t even care. I didn’t even try listening. They could say whatever they wanted, but I was never going to think it was okay to be down here or that Clover wasn’t a psychotic arsehole.
Someone would find me soon. I wasn’t on the streets like they were. I had a family and friends—people that would know I was missing. Soon enough, the police would be called and they would start searching. Who would be the one to realize first? My parents when I didn’t return home? Or Lewis when I didn’t answer his calls or reply to his texts? Would he even try to contact me any more tonight? If we were out separately with our friends, we wouldn’t usually text each other until we were home, or if we did, it would only be once or twice.
Squeezing my eyes together, I tried to push the image of Lewis’s face out of my head. I couldn’t even think about my parents. Gulping down the rising lump in my throat, I pressed my fingernails into the palm of my hand. Don’t cry.
“How long have you been here, Poppy?” I asked.
She half smiled and walked the few steps from the kitchen table back to the sofa. Sitting down beside me, she squeezed my clenched fist. “Just over a year. Mine is a similar story to Rose’s. I was living on the streets when he found me, and I was eighteen too.” An adult. Was that why Violet got so angry? Not that it mattered how old any of us were. It’s not like she could know my age. How young do I look? Did he even care?