Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 120230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“Oops.” A kiss pressed to Grace’s cheek before the two continued on downstairs.
Vansi and Nix, however, kept on walking toward their room and from the way they were whispering to each other, there’d be another kind of fire burning in that room soon.
Well, at least Vansi’s marriage issues seemed to be working out.
“ ’Night, Kaea,” I said, the thought of Beatrice dying in this cold and dark place stuck in my head like a tiny stone in a shoe.
But he fell into step with me. “I think my room’s along here. Nix took my bag to put into my room when I volunteered to help Ash grab more logs from the barn.” But when he tried each of the doors in turn, one proved locked, the second a toilet, and the third an empty shell.
“Has to be that one.” I pointed out the room opposite Vansi and Phoenix’s. “It’s the only one left.”
Hands on his hips, he frowned. “You don’t mind being out here by yourself? You’re on the far end of the hall. You can bunk with me if you want.”
“You forget—I’ve heard you snore.” We’d shared many a tent during our student days when we’d hired a van and driven out to the bush for a budget vacation. Hiking, swimming in the water holes along the way, cheap beers with equally cheap sausages.
Some of the best memories of my life.
“And I’ve heard you snuffle,” he murmured darkly. “Snuffle snuffle, snort snort, snuffle snuffle, then a weirdo little giggle.”
Laughing, I shoved at his chest with one hand. The worst of it was that he was right. I did make odd noises in my sleep. One boyfriend had taped me and played it back. I’d been mortified, but he’d told me I sounded cute and if I’d ever been meant to be in a relationship it would’ve been with him. But he’d deserved to be loved—and I’d only loved one person that way my entire life.
“Go to bed,” I said to Kaea.
“Want me to grab a couple of logs for you?” He frowned. “Don’t tell the others. I’m only doing this because you’re all by yourself at the end of a dark and badly lit horror hallway.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t strain your chivalry muscles. I’ll probably go down to make myself a cup of tea anyway. I’ll grab a couple of small logs then. Enough to warm up the room before I fall asleep.”
Kaea gave me a small salute before backing off and heading toward his room.
I waited at the doorway to mine until he looked into his, then gave a thumbs-up to indicate it held his bag. Waving good night, I walked in and shut the door quietly behind myself.
Then I looked at the doll in my hand.
The doll that hadn’t been with Bea’s belongings.
10
My room had the same lighting as Darcie and Ash’s, the entire space drenched in a dirty yellowish cast. Digging my phone out of my pocket, I turned on the flashlight function. Cold white light, crisp and bright. I’d been right about the new wear and tear on the doll. It definitely hadn’t looked like this when Bea’d had it on the little shelf in her room.
“I never played rough with her.” The memory of Bea’s husky tones, the two of us sitting by the window in her room, sneaking a cigarette.
Neither of us had kept up the habit after the first week, but back then we’d wanted to be cool teenagers. I’d have invited Vansi, but I’d known she’d balk. My best friend might’ve strained against her parents’ strict rules, but the only time she’d ever rebelled was when it came to her secret love affair with Nix.
Bea’s full lips curved in my mind. “She was too pretty, and I didn’t want to mess her up.” Her eyes danced, so intense they seemed to see right through to the secret truth inside me. “My mom says that when I was younger I’d hide her anytime we had visitors. I didn’t want anyone to damage her.”
The doll had been all but spotless at that time. I’d had the chance to take another closer look at it some years later, about a year before Beatrice’s disappearance. Still in pristine condition, with not even a coating of dust on her.
That was how I’d always known that even though Bea laughed along with the Creepy Bea jokes, the doll was important to her even in adulthood. Likely because it had been a gift from the parents who’d died in a fiery crash before her eighteenth birthday.
The others must’ve understood, too, because jokes or not, no one ever picked up the doll or threw it around. Creepy Bea always got a seat of honor on a table or chair in our annual Halloween photos.
Darcie wasn’t as attached to her own doll. Last time I’d seen it was when we were around sixteen. If Bea’s was pristine, Darcie’s had been through the wars. Per Darcie, she’d brushed out her doll’s hair, put makeup on its porcelain face, changed its clothes, and otherwise treated the handcrafted object like a department-store Barbie.