The Lost Sister. Megan Kelley Hall
while she sleeps, attempting to steal her breath and soul. Or the headless banshee that wails and shrieks beneath your bedroom window, heralding a death that will soon claim a family member.
Maddie was quite certain that Cordelia never frightened easily, which was what enabled those frightening tales to trip and fall from her tongue without any hint of trepidation or reluctance of speaking about such dark things, no matter if they were in a darkened room or passing by a cemetery bathed in moonlight. And even after all of the horrible things were done to her by the girls that night on Misery Island, Cordelia never showed any fear.
Questions raced through Maddie’s head as she looked out at the dark churning waters. Will I ever get the chance to apologize to Cordelia for everything? For remaining friends with girls who tormented her since her arrival in Hawthorne? Will I get the chance to tell her how sorry I am for standing by and letting the events on Misery Island take place? For being too afraid to stand up for her, to save her?
She knew she had to go home. Her mother was the reason she came back to Hawthorne—the only reason. And she needed to be there for her, to support her and help her through this difficult time. But as she turned to leave, something caught her eye. She swore she saw a girl standing on top of the jagged rocks. Her body bent like a dancer’s in an arabesque pose, leg lifted as if about to go into flight. A shock of red hair against the inky night. Yet when she looked again, there was nothing there—no one standing on the rock that sank into the deep waters. It was just a trick of the eye, she reasoned. And despite her unsettling feelings, she turned back toward her home, willing to put the past behind her and deal with what was yet to come.
Later that evening, Abigail paced the well-worn floor of her bedroom, listening to the noise and movement coming from Madeline’s room. It seemed so strange to have activity and any form of life within these walls again. She didn’t want to think about that night. The one where she lost control. The night that she saw things that couldn’t be real—couldn’t possibly occur. She’d known about the hauntings in Hawthorne and the lengths that Tess had gone to keep restless spirits at bay. But without the old woman in the house, the activity started up in the house. The unfinished business, the secrets, the lies—all of it would unravel in a way that no one could control. She wondered if the medication was just making her see things—things that weren’t there, that couldn’t be real. Or if the spirits that haunted her were always there and she just chose to shut them out. Perhaps she was so close to death that the veil between the living and the dead was being drawn aside, allowing her a peek into the afterlife.
Soon, though, Maddie would leave her, leave Hawthorne, and when she did, Abigail would be leaving this house as well, feet first and finally at peace. God willing, she thought. God willing.
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