The Secrets Hidden in My Daughter Bed and the Husband Who Lied
It was penance, or perhaps, revenge.
I forced myself to pick up the third journal again.
I needed to know how far this went.
I turned to the final pages, written only a few months before she came to live with us.
*The cognitive decline is accelerating,* the entry read.
*She is starting to remember the house.*
*She is starting to talk about the things we buried.*
*If she tells Clara, everything is ruined.*
*I have to keep her close.*
*I have to keep her under my roof where I can monitor her.*
My hands were shaking so hard I could barely hold the paper.
*What did they bury?* I thought.
What secrets did this modern, beautiful house hold beneath its polished surface?
I remembered the ledger I had hidden under the dining room cushion.
There was a connection.
I looked back down at the journal, searching for more answers.
*She belongs in the dark,* the last entry read.
*Just like she put me in the dark.*
A floorboard creaked in the hallway outside.
My heart stopped.
I stood frozen, my breath catching in my throat.