“It’s our pleasure. Now get some rest. I’m going home to do the same. See how you feel tomorrow, and if you’re up to it, we’ll contact Mrs. Thorne.” Gypsy rose and snuffed out the candles.
“I can hardly wait,” said Heather, swirling her forefinger in the air in mock celebration.
Celeste gave her a brave smile and squeezed her hand. “We’ll get through this together,” she promised.
They went downstairs and hugged their goodbyes at the door. Heather watched from the window as Gypsy’s and Celeste’s taillights disappeared down the driveway, leaving her alone in the house. She sought the comfort of Erick’s journal to share her solitude.
VIII
April 20th, 2002
Storms have been raging both inside and outside the house. From my perch atop this Gothic prison, I can see the lightening jamming it
