“I’m good,” she whispered. “I’ve been good.”
“There you are,” he said, extending a hand. “My sweet, pure Lisey.” lisey sweet pure taboo
She should have run. She should have screamed. Instead, she stepped forward, barefoot onto cool moss, and felt for the first time in her life what it meant to be truly seen—and truly wanted. “I’m good,” she whispered
Upstairs, the porcelain figurines wept tiny, silent tears. ” he said
But one August night, with rain hammering the roof and the house groaning like an old animal, she heard the sound. A soft, rhythmic tap-tap-tapping coming from behind the basement door.
The basement door clicked shut behind her.