Chloe didn’t blink. She had known. Her father, Richard, had spent the last three years of his life in a fog of opioids and guilt. In the end, he had given everything to Irene — not out of love, Chloe suspected, but out of fear.
Chloe shook her head. “That’s not — he was sick, but he never —” PureTaboo - Aaliyah Love- Kristen Scott -The In...
Irene stood at the top of the stairs, still in her gallery coat, rain glistening on her hair. Chloe didn’t blink
Chloe had not slept in the east bedroom since she was seventeen — since the night she heard the floorboards creak outside her door and saw Irene’s silhouette pause, then continue down the hall. In the end, he had given everything to
At the bottom, a single bulb illuminated a room that was not flooded. It was a bedroom — small, windowless, immaculate. A brass bed with white sheets. A nightstand with a glass of water. And on the wall, photographs: Chloe at twelve, Chloe at fifteen, Chloe at her high school graduation. Beneath each photo, a date and a notation in Irene’s handwriting.
“I was hoping you’d find it,” Irene said softly. “I was hoping you’d come down here. So we could finally talk.” Chloe backed against the cold stone wall. “What is this place?”
“Am I?” Irene reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Chloe’s face. “You had nightmares for years. You wet the bed until you were fourteen. You flinched every time a man raised his voice. That wasn’t imagination, Chloe. That was memory. And I buried it for you — in this room. Every photo, every date, every notation. I took the pain and put it in these walls so you could live.”