Chapter 4 - THE RULES OF THE HOUSE
Mara didn’t sleep.
At breakfast, nobody mentioned the scream.
Grant read financial news on his tablet.
Celeste drank green juice.
Vivian discussed a charity gala.
Eli stared into his cereal.
Dr. Hale arrived at nine.
Normal.
Everything painfully normal.
Mara began to understand the Callahan family’s greatest talent.
They didn’t hide chaos.
They acted like chaos had never happened.
At noon, Mara cornered Mrs. Bell in the laundry room.
“Who’s downstairs?”
“Nobody.”
“I heard her.”
“You heard pipes.”
“Pipes don’t yell help.”
Mrs. Bell slammed a towel into a basket.
“You think you’re the first employee to notice things?”
Mara froze.
Mrs. Bell immediately regretted the sentence.
“What happened to the others?”
“Nothing.”
“Mrs. Bell.”
The older woman’s hands shook.
Mara lowered her voice.
“I’m not trying to cause trouble.”
“That’s exactly what people say before trouble eats them alive.”
“Who is she?”
Mrs. Bell looked toward the door.
Then whispered, “I’ve worked here twenty-two years. I have a pension. My husband is sick. I can’t lose this.”
Mara’s anger softened.
“I’m not asking you to.”
“Yes, you are.”
Mrs. Bell walked away.
That evening, Eli had what the family called an episode.
Mara found him in the library, standing over a shattered picture frame.
Blood ran from his palm.
Grant grabbed him by the arm.
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t!”
“Stop lying.”
“I didn’t!”
Mara stepped in.
“He’s bleeding.”
Grant snapped, “Stay out of it.”
“No.”
The word came out before she could stop it.
Grant turned.
The room went still.
Mara took Eli’s hand.
“There’s glass in his skin.”
Grant’s voice dropped.
“You seem to forget who employs you.”
“And you seem to forget he’s eight.”
Celeste gasped softly.
Vivian watched from the doorway.
Interested.
Almost amused.
Mara cleaned Eli’s hand in the bathroom.
He cried without making a sound.
“Did you break the frame?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
“I woke up here.”
“What do you remember before that?”
“Dr. Hale gave me juice.”
Mara stared at him.
“Juice?”
“Orange juice. It tasted bad.”
Mara’s pulse quickened.
That night she searched the trash outside Dr. Hale’s temporary office.
She found an empty vial.
No label.
She wrapped it in tissue and hid it in her shoe.
At 3:00 a.m., someone opened Mara’s bedroom door.
She pretended to sleep.
Footsteps crossed the room.
A drawer opened.
Then another.
Someone was searching her things.
Mara waited until the shadow leaned over her nightstand.
Then she turned on the lamp.
Grant Callahan stood beside her bed.
He wasn’t smiling.
“What,” Mara asked, “are you looking for?”
Grant stared at her for a long moment.
Then he said quietly,
May you like
“Something that belongs to me.”
And Mara realized the vial was no longer inside her shoe.
