I had never heard that kind of anger in his voice before. It wasn’t just loud. It was raw. Like something inside him was breaking.
Why was he like this? Why did it matter so much?
“I…” My voice cracked. “I don’t know,” I whispered.
“Lenore,” he said, shouting my name like it would snap me out of it. “Think!”
His hands moved from my shoulders to my face, cupping it gently. He looked straight into my eyes, pleading.
“Can you see them too?”
I knew what he was asking. I knew exactly who he meant.
And I could see it in his eyes, he wasn’t just looking for answers. He was trying to make sure he wasn’t losing his mind. But to protect what was left of mine, I lied. I lied tohim,and I promised I would never lie tohim.And deep down, I wanted to protect him too. The way he had always protected me. I wanted to hold his burdens, even if it crushed me.
So I lied.
And sometimes, the lies with the right intentions hurt more than the truth ever could.
“I don’t,” I whispered, gently pushing him back. “See who, Dorian?”
“You said…” He waved his hand through the air, frustrated. “Never mind.”
I couldn’t meet his eyes. I couldn’t admit that I had heard those words before, so many times. But no matter how hard I tried to remember, the memory stayed locked away, my mind refused to open that door. And maybe it was easier that way.
Behind him, something shifted in the mirror.
The glass fogged over, like breath from an invisible mouth. And slowly, words began to appear in the mist, as if someone had written them with their fingertip.“Truth will set you free.”
I turned away before I could feel it, before my mind could break through the wall it had built. I rushed down the stairs, faster than my thoughts could catch me. And when I reached the bottom, I saw the door.
The one my father had forbidden me to go near.
It wasn’t like the others. This one was made of heavy, dark wood, reinforced wit
h silver bars. Cold air bled out from beneath the crack at the bottom. I could hear singing behind it. I could swear it was my mother’s voice.
Something on the other side was calling my name. I stepped closer, drawn in. But before I could reach it, he was already there.
My father stood in front of the door, smoke curling from the cigar between his lips.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere,” I said quickly. “I just… I couldn’t sleep.”
“You have to pray before sleep,” he said, his voice flat. “Did you pray?”
Why would I?
My faith died the day my mother died. And whatever God we once believed in had been replaced, replaced with his picture. A man who thought himself divine.
I had seen how the others bowed to him. Worshiped him like he was something holy. But he wasn’t. He was just another man, desperate for power in a world that ignored him. So he took what he could. He hurt those he had to. And somehow, this house let him.
He had always been greedy. Always taking, never giving. And from me, he took the one thing I couldn’t get back—freedom.
He placed a hand on my back and gently guided me to his office.
To the left of his desk hung a framed photograph of him, surrounded by flickering candles and a few worn pillows on the floor. To the right was a statue of the Virgin Mary, her eyes carved in sorrow.
