by Fawn Bailey
I stared at him in disbelief. Is he really telling me this? I couldn't believe his gall.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Ventura," I replied coldly. "I’m wearing black and white as the dress code suggests."
"Yes, dear," he said with patience. "But it's not… how shall I put this… enticing enough. Our customers want to see a well-put-together, attractive girl behind the counter."
I was never behind the counter, he was. I mostly worked in the back.
"Your clothes could also do with some… tightening," he said suggestively. "You seem to wear a size or two too big for your frame."
Yeah, so you wouldn't stare at me like you are now, I thought bitterly. On the outside though, I just smiled brightly and nodded in understanding.
"I know your paycheck isn't much," he went on, "so I'd be happy to take you out and help you shop for some things." His brows moved up suggestively, and he licked his thin lips as he looked at me. "Perhaps I could even help you pick some undergarments to go under your new clothes."
"Thank you, Mr. Ventura," I replied. "I will keep that in mind next time I'm shopping for clothing."
I left him standing there and walked out of the flower shop, my lips pursed together in annoyance.
He was such a horrible man, but I knew he would never fire me. There was no one else who'd be willing to work their lives around the crazy hours of the flower shop. He needed me more than I needed him—at least as far as he knew. I needed the anonymity. Being hidden in plain sight. But I couldn't let him know that. The second he realized how important the job and the apartment were to me, I'd be forced to follow his rules.
I knew he'd had his eye on me for a while, but I was never going to let him touch me.
In my rush to get out of Petale, I'd almost forgotten to take the mystery box that had arrived for me. Luckily I'd wrapped it in my jacket, and the creamy cardboard felt silky under my touch as I carried it upstairs. I wondered who had sent me the box.
I'd received only a few presents before, from rich customers of Petale who thought they could sway me with expensive, lavish gifts. I assumed this was more of the same.
As pretty as the gifts were, they always went back to the sender. But this time, I hadn't noticed a return address on the box, which meant it was stuck with me.
I climbed the stairs to my apartment and opened a window, letting some of the cool air in. It was starting to rain once again.
The box went on my small table, and I glanced at it curiously while I made myself a cup of peppermint tea. I was nosy, but the moment of not knowing what was in there was almost as exciting as actually opening the mysterious package.
Finally, I sat down at the table with my steaming cup of tea in front of me, my fingers toying with the pretty ribbon around the box. I undid it and slowly opened the lid.
There were two things inside, and when I saw them, all the color drained from my face.
One was a tarot card. When I turned it around, I realized the front was blank. It had the back I used to know so well, but the front of it was just blank white paper.
Tabula rasa.
I tried to make the words disappear from my head, but they seemed stuck there, reminding me of everything I'd done in the past. I thought I was going to be sick. But I wasn't done with the box just yet. There was something else in there, a note written in the loopy, childlike handwriting I still remembered so well, all the i’s dotted with hearts. My stomach turned at the sight of them.
I picked up the piece of paper with shaky fingers, my eyes scanning the words, committing them to memory.
I know where you are. But instead of coming for you, I'm going to let you come to me. Then I'm going to destroy your life. Think I'm lying? I've already started.
I swallowed thickly. Of course I knew who the message was from. She didn't need to sign it. It was plainly obvious she'd come back to haunt me, just like she'd promised all those years ago.
Collapsing on the chair, I let the piece of paper flutter to the ground. I couldn't bear to look at it, and I couldn't bear to think of what I'd done. It hurt too much. Yet I wasn't the one who'd been hurt the most.
All these years spent hiding, living in the shadows, hoping she would never come for me. They would all be over soon. And if I was being honest with myself, I knew she was going to find me eventually. She'd promised me her revenge, and I knew her well enough to see she meant it.
I chose not to remember our time together, to think of my betrayal. I chose to move on, not looking for her because I knew eventually she'd come looking for me. It seemed like the time had finally come.
I had never wanted to admit it, never wanted to so much as say her name out loud, but I deserved everything that was coming. I'd let her down. Betrayed her in the worst possible way. I deserved her punishment.
There were so many times I'd lain awake at night, wishing I were gone for what I'd done to her. Days when I'd held a razor in my hands, thinking about ending things. I wasn't ever brave enough to go through with it.
But she was.
The only way she wouldn't seek justice would be if she was dead. And despite everything, I didn't want that.
After all, she was my sister.
3
Ginger
I couldn't get that box out of my head. It was all I could think about, invading my thoughts every time I blinked, even when I was sleeping, when nightmares wrapped around me like claws digging into my skin.
She was right. I was going to find her. I couldn't stay away—my own conscience wouldn't let me. I needed to make amends, even if she wasn't going to accept them. I needed to shut down the voice in my head, whispering in my ear that all of this was my fucking fault.
I needed to find her. And to do that, I'd have to leave the home I'd created, the safety net of Petale and the cozy apartment above it.
I knew I couldn't let anyone know where I was going. Here, I was a nobody with no friends and no connections. Nobody would miss Ginger who worked in that fancy flower shop. Nobody even knew her. It was time to get away, go back to where it all began.
It was time to find Astor again.
On a rainy night just like any other in the city, I packed up the necessities and made sure to clean the apartment. It was spotless by the time I was done, scrubbed clean. I looked around the place with nostalgic eyes, wondering whether I'd ever come back and spend another night in the bed I'd slept in for the past seven years.
But now it was time to put it all behind me. It was time to leave.
At three in the morning, before my shift began, I took a single beaten-up suitcase, the very one I'd arrived in the city with, and left my life behind me. It was time to revisit the past.
I reached the train station in time to catch my first ride, boarding the train as one of the first passengers and claiming an old, torn-up seat in third class. I ignored the food and drink cart that passed a moment later and stared out the window while the train pulled away from the station.
The ride was long and uncomfortable, the old seat not helping one bit. But three hours later, I changed trains at a much smaller station. This would be the final ride that day. In about forty-seven minutes, I would arrive in Hollyhock, the small town where my life began.
My nerves started to get the better of me as we drew nearer and nearer.
I wasn't sure whether I was ready to deal with the consequences of what I'd done as a little girl, but there was no turning back now. Astor had already made it clear she was getting her revenge.
The train came to a screeching halt, and I disembarked with only a handful other passengers. I stood at the station, taking one deep breath after another, knowing I was going to be recognized sooner rather than later. Hollyhock was the kind of small town where everyone knew everyone; my visit wouldn't go unnoticed.
There was no way I could get an Uber in Hollyhock, but there was a man who drove a taxi. I just hoped the old number I had was still correct.
He answered on the first ring. His voice sounded weary, more
tired than I remembered it.
"Smith Transport, how can I help you?" he asked, the words almost a sigh as they left his mouth.
"Hello," I replied, holding my breath for a second too long. "I was hoping you could pick me up from the train station in Hollyhock."
"Of course, miss."
That was what he used to call me when I was younger, and it sent shivers down my spine just thinking that he remembered the nickname. But surely he didn't know who was calling. I'd changed phone numbers, and I wasn't that scared seventeen-year-old girl anymore. I'd grown up. No, there was no way he could have recognized me.
Armed with that knowledge, I agreed to meet him at the pickup area in front of the train station.
"And where will I be taking you, miss?" he asked, his voice considerably more jovial than when he'd answered the phone.
If he hadn't recognized me before, he would surely know who I was now.
"Hollyhock Asylum," I whispered.
"Miss Adley!"
His voice wasn't judgmental or accusatory, but I should have known that wouldn't be the case.
Mr. Smith was a nice man, one who'd always cared about me, even when I did what I did.
"Hello, Mr. Smith," I greeted him with a smile.
I had thought I'd have to force it on my face, but it came easily. He was an old family friend, after all. Probably one of the few I had in this town. I wasn't a very popular girl in Hollyhock.
"I can't believe you're back," he said, a big toothy grin taking over his face. "It's been such a long time. The Adley girls… oh, I'll never forget you."
All the color drained from my face when he mentioned that old nickname for the three of us. I managed a weak smile as he came toward me. He looked like he wanted to hug me, but my body went rigid at the thought. Nobody had touched me in that way in years.
He must have sensed my discomfort, reaching for my suitcase instead. Yet he seemed like he wanted some sort of contact, and I surprised myself by giving him the hug he was craving.
"I missed you, Mr. Smith," I said honestly.
When he pulled back, there were tears in his eyes that neither of us acknowledged.
Instead, I let him put my suitcase in the back while I sat in the passenger seat. He still drove the same car, probably over fifteen years old now. But there was a sense of comfort in it, the reminder of days long gone, of a childhood that had been almost magical—until everything went to hell.
"So, to the asylum?" He gave me an awkward smile.
"Yes, please." I nodded.
We started driving, and the silence between us wasn't awkward at all, but rather comforting just like Mr. Smith's presence.
"What brings you back here?" he asked me gently, and I looked at my hands lying folded in my lap.
"My sister," I whispered.
"Which one?"
I gave him a sharp look, my response crueler than he deserved.
"There’re only two of us left, Mr. Smith."
"I know," he said apologetically. "But I can't imagine you'd want to see Astor again."
"I need to," I muttered, not willing to elaborate on the subject.
"I'm sure there are a lot of people here who would love to see you," he went on. "All those years ago, when you left…."
"I had to," I told him. "If I hadn't, my life would have turned into a nightmare."
He shook his head. "You say that, but this town loved you, Miss Adley. Everyone here cared about you. You just chose to leave us in the dust."
I didn't have a reply to that. Instead, I stared stubbornly ahead as we drove through the quaint town of Hollyhock.
Soon enough, we were on the winding road that led to the asylum on top of a hill that overlooked the town. I felt my nerves getting the better of me, the anxiety I'd known so well my whole life digging its claws into my skin.
Expecting the intimidating view of the mansion that was the asylum, I looked up as we turned the last corner.
And then I gasped.
"W-where is it?" I asked shakily.
The old house was gone. There was nothing but rubble, ash and sad little remains of the building in its place.
"I thought you knew." Mr. Smith gave me an apologetic look as he pulled to a stop in front of the burnt-down remains. "Nobody told you?"
"No," I replied, my voice breaking over the simple word.
I climbed out of the car, my hands shaking as I neared the scene of the fire.
It was familiar. Too familiar.
I knew who had done this.
After all, she'd done it before.
I walked around the space that seemed so empty without that imposing house overlooking everything. The view was beautiful, breathtaking, the small town beneath sparkling in the sunlight. It was so different from my apartment above Petale. The relentless rain made me melancholic, but this… this was a view fit for a king.
"When did it happen?" I asked Mr. Smith softly, and he stepped over the rubble to join me at the edge of the property.
"About five years ago, I'd say," he mumbled. "Burned right to the ground, it did."
"Was anyone hurt?"
"Only one person," he said, raising his eyes to me. "The head of staff at the asylum. She didn't make it out of the flames. They rescued everybody else."
"My… my sister?" I asked shakily, unable to form a proper question.
Mr. Smith raised his milky blue eyes to mine. He looked so much older than I remembered. His hair and beard were completely white now, and there were even more wrinkles on his leathery face. Yet the sight of him filled me with comfort. He was like a part of the family when I was younger, like the grandfather I never had.
"She disappeared," he finally managed, and fear pumped adrenaline through my body.
"Disappeared?" I repeated. "They let a patient of the asylum just disappear? How is that possible?"
"The commotion was terrible. The fire was massive, and I assume things got a bit crazy. She was rescued along with the other patients. I saw it with my own eyes. She was sitting right here…."
He walked to the stone wall that used to surround the property. Now only rubble remained.
"She was wrapped in the fire brigade's blanket," he explained. "She looked so much younger that day. Eyes wide and scared. She was so afraid."
"What happened?" I asked, needing the answer more than I needed my next breath.
He shrugged. "We still don't know. One second she was here, and the next she was gone. Disappeared into the woods, or somewhere beyond. We even sent a search party after her."
I sagged to the ground. The weight of it all was too much to bear.
"Nobody told me," I whispered as Mr. Smith came closer. "Nobody even told me she was gone."
"Oh, Miss Adley," he said gently. "We tried. We tried so many times, but we couldn't find you. All those years, you disappeared without a trace."
I knew it was the truth. After all, it had been the plan all along. I wanted to leave the past behind me, and it looked like I'd succeeded.
"We thought you'd learn of the fire eventually," Mr. Smith went on, his voice apologetic. "We thought somehow you'd kept tabs on your sister."
"I didn't," I admitted, and he helped me up, muttering something about it being too cold to kneel on the grass. "I should have, but I didn't."
Another silence followed, but this time it wasn't as amicable.
"Mr. Smith," I uttered, sounding so very desperate to my own ears, "I'm so sorry. I was just a kid. I didn't know what I'd done to her. If I'd known what they were going to do…."
"Ginger."
He placed a strong hand on my shoulders, steadying me. I hadn't realized I'd been shaking until then.
"You were seventeen," he said. "Old enough to understand she was dangerous."
I couldn't object to his words. He'd loved Astor though. He'd loved all three of us, but Astor was his favorite. Dad used to go out for a beer every Friday with his friends, and Mr. Smith was one of them. He always brought over candy for the thr
ee of us, but for Astor, he brought special presents too. He lent her books, and she devoured a stack of them before the next Friday, when he'd arrive with new recommendations.
Yet he still forgave me for what I'd done.
If only it were as easy to forgive myself.
"Mr. Smith, could I come to your house for a cup of tea? I've driven all this way. I just need to find out what really happened."
"What really happened?" he repeated, his brows shooting up. "You know what happened, Ginger, don't you?"
My voice was small, timid, as I answered, "I suppose."
"Your sister." He shook his head. "Something happened to her… something took over. She didn't want to hurt anybody. She didn't mean any harm. She didn't mean to kill them."
My memory flashed with thoughts of it all.
My other sister—Astor's twin. My parents. All gone, leaving only the two of us behind, the sole survivors left choking in the dust.
I couldn't offer a response to Mr. Smith.
Because deep down, I still believed Astor was guilty.
4
The Emperor
I'd explained to Astor over and over again how much the jewel was worth. That it was better to keep it protected, away from watchful eyes, until the rumors about it being in Venice stopped being whispered from ear to ear. I didn't want trouble for myself or my business, so the thing needed to stay under wraps for the time being.
The diamond was enclosed in an impenetrable safe, and I had to listen to Astor whining about it incessantly.
"Why does it have to be locked up?" she demanded to know. "It's such a beautiful stone. Doesn't it deserve more attention? Doesn't it deserve to see the light, not be stored in some stupid safe?"
I laughed at her, shaking my head. Sometimes it was easy to forget about the age difference between us, but after all, she was only twenty years old. Only a few years older than Ginger when I'd first met her.
I shook my head to get the thought out. It never helped to think about Ginger, especially with other women around. It only made me realize they could never compare to her.
