Chapter 58

Celeste

The next morning, the cold light of day accentuated the throbbing in my temples.

My night had been restless, filled with tangled sheets and even more tangled thoughts. I had half a mind to bury myself under the blanket and shut out the world, but the jingling of my phone snapped me back to reality.

I squinted at the screen, my heart skipping a beat as I saw Fiona’s name. With a sigh, I picked up.

“Hey,” Fiona's voice echoed, a touch of concern evident in her tone.

“Hey,” I mumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“How was your ‘date’ last night?”

I let out a soft, wry chuckle, before glancing over to my bedroom door. Lowering my voice, I responded.

“He asked me to be his girlfriend.”

On the other end of the phone, I imagined Fiona’s blue eyes widening in shock. “And?” she asked. “What did you say?”

“I… I said I would think about it,” I replied. “And then Jack texted me. He found out that I snuck out, and he’s onto me. I’m on really thin ice now.”

There was a pause, then, "Look, I've been thinking. I know it feels like I’m pressuring you, but you really need to get out of that house, Celeste. Jack’s behavior isn't normal."

I sighed. "Fiona, it's complicated."

"No, it isn't!" she fired back, "You're living under constant surveillance, and it's not healthy."

I bit my lip, my emotions a whirlwind of anger, fear, and guilt. “I know... I know.”

She took a deep breath, her voice softening. “You can stay with me for a while, Celeste. Just until you find your footing.”

The offer tempted me. The thought of escaping Jack's scrutiny and finally tasting freedom made my heart race in more ways than one. “I’ll think about it,” I whispered, more to myself than to Fiona.

But she continued. “And about Matt... You need to decide, Celeste. Either come clean or end things. The longer you wait, the messier it’ll be.”

“I can’t,” I choked, tears threatening to spill. “He... He doesn’t like me. Not the real me. He’s in love with Rose. Every time he sees me, every time he texts me, it's Rose he’s thinking of.”

“Maybe,” Fiona hesitated, her voice full of doubt. “But you can’t keep this up. It’s not fair to him or you.”

That hurt, but she was right. I knew she was.

“I’ll... I’ll see him one last time,” I decided, my voice shaky. “Then I’ll end it.”

Fiona exhaled, her relief palpable. “Good. It’s the right thing to do.”

Our conversation trailed into other topics, but Matt loomed in the back of my mind, a dark cloud I couldn’t shake off.

After hanging up, I took a moment to gather my thoughts, trying to pen down what I’d say to Matt. It was a painful process, especially with the taste of his lips still lingering on my tongue after last night

But the realization hit hard; he was only being kind when he asked me to the hockey game. Matt saw me as a friend, a plain, pitiable girl. It was Rose he longed for, the mask I’d crafted, the persona I’d slipped into.

However, the soft trilling of birds outside was suddenly replaced by the angry grating of Jack’s voice as he called out to me. The sound was an icy jolt to my senses. Pushing away the thoughts of Matt and Fiona, I descended the stairs.

“Since you decided to sneak out last night,” he sneered, “I think it’s time you did some work around here. The house needs cleaning, from top to bottom.”

I nodded mutely, realizing arguing would only make things worse. Jack continued. "And when you’re done with that, the car. Inside and out. Understood?”

“Yes,” I replied, my voice barely audible.

Hours slipped by as I scrubbed, mopped, and dusted every nook and cranny. My arms ached, and my back screamed in protest. The smell of cleaning products clung to me, making my nose twitch. The car was no better. Jack’s old sedan was covered in grime, and the interior was littered with discarded wrappers and old newspapers.

By the time I had finished, the sun had passed its zenith and was beginning its descent. I wiped the sweat from my brow and sighed in relief, thinking my ordeal was over. But Jack had other plans.

He approached me, a smug grin on his face. “Almost done, sis. Just the basement left.”

I stared at him incredulously. “The basement? Really?”

He smirked, holding out a cardboard box. “I want you to sort through our old stuff down there. Anything you think we can donate, put in this box. And while you’re at it, clean up the place. It's about time.”

The mere mention of the basement sent shivers down my spine. It was the one place in the house I avoided, having always found it unsettling, even past childhood.

Reluctantly, I took the box, my mind racing with old ghost stories and tales of dark, hidden things. But with Jack watching intently, I had no choice but to descend.

The wooden stairs creaked under my weight, echoing ominously through the dimly lit space. Flicking on the light, I surveyed the room. Rows of old, forgotten boxes and discarded furniture filled the area, all coated in a thin layer of dust. The air was damp and stale, a testament to the years of neglect.

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I began my task. The first few boxes were filled with old clothes, some tattered toys, and a few broken appliances. But as I delved deeper, the memories started flooding back.

Buried beneath a stack of outdated textbooks, I found an old picture book. The cover was worn, its edges frayed, but I recognized it instantly.

It was the story of a little girl and her magical adventures with her pet wolf, the very book my mother used to read to me before bedtime. A warm feeling spread through me as I flipped through the pages, hearing her voice in my mind, reciting each line with practiced ease.

Further into my excavation, wrapped in an old cloth, I found a tiny clay figure.

It was a misshapen representation of a man, painted sloppily in bright colors. I smiled, remembering the Father’s Day when I had proudly presented it to Dad. Back then, before his mind betrayed him, he had accepted it with tears in his eyes, calling it his most treasured possession.

My emotions swirled—a mix of nostalgia, sadness, and a bitter longing for simpler times. The basement, which I had dreaded so much, had turned into a sanctuary of memories, reminding me of the love and warmth that had once filled our home.

By the time I had finished sorting through the boxes and cleaning the space, the evening had almost set in. As I made my way upstairs, the cardboard box filled with a few discarded items, my heart felt strangely light.

Jack looked up as I emerged, an eyebrow raised. “Done already?”

I nodded, a faint smile playing on my lips. “Yes. Thank you.”

His expression faltered, taken aback. “For what?”

“For reminding me of the good times,” I whispered, clutching the old picture book to my chest.

Jack looked away, his face inscrutable. For a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of the brother I once knew, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Retreating to my room, I placed the book on my bedside table. It was a beacon, a reminder of love, resilience, and the power of memories.

For some reason, seeing these things filled me with a sort of strength. I found myself slipping my phone out of my pocket, and opening my chat with Matt.

Taking a deep breath, I began to text him, my fingers trembling over the keys. “I’ve thought about your proposition, and I want to talk. Meet me in the forest tonight, at 10pm. In the clearing.”

I waited, the seconds dragging on, feeling like hours. But eventually, his reply popped up, a simple word.

“Okay.”