Chapter EightThe house is no less imposing the second time than it was the first, except she knows where she's going this time.
Nothing seems out of place since the las occurrence of searching through the lavish confines of his house, as if the man himself is a ghost whose touch does not affect his surroundings, letting his belongings stay in a limbo of cold darkness through the liminal space.
She feels she has stepped into a memory and no time has passed at all since the last time she's been here. She is less distracted this time and tells herself that she isn't going to go to the attic. There's no Jackson in her ear whispering instructions either because a job had come up for him at the last minute and he couldn't be around to 'hold her hand' as he so aptly put it.
Her feet takes her
