Beautiful Liar by Jaime Ellis

Author:Jaime Ellis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jaime Ellis

Chapter 4

The Key of D Minor

I sprinted the rest of the way to the house, dread clawing steadily from my stomach into my throat until I was truly nauseous. Bile rose, and I stopped in the middle of the tropical south garden, put my hands on my knees, and breathed through my mouth. Another shriek ripped through the estate but not the shill cry of terror from before. This time, it was a cacophony of more than one person, firing jumbled words, one after another. A fierce spark of panic slammed into my thundering heart, tripling the pace. Tears brimmed and circled my eyelids. I couldn’t push the reality away anymore because, now, it was right in front of me.

And I didn’t want to know what fate lay at its conclusion. It was one of the only times I could remember being willfully ignorant, but some truths were so painful to swallow that most people—myself included—would rather procrastinate than immediately face it.

But I did have to face the starting line at least. I wanted to because, illogically, I thought I could control it. So far, there had never been a situation I hadn’t been able to manage.

A door opened behind me, and footsteps echoed on the red brick walkway. The staff was going to wake up, and they would all know what had happened soon enough. What my mother had done.

I straightened from my bent position and darted toward the house before anybody could catch sight of me. I dashed the rest of the way through the gardens, pushing fronds and flowers out of my way, not caring if I tore them. The gardens opened into the back courtyard. The stone fountain trickled, frogs croaked, and crickets sang. Instead of a warm summer chorus though, it sounded like a dirge.

The back door was wide open, and I could track Atticus’s movements through the house by the direction of bright rooms as opposed to the darkness of the rest of the building. The shouting was a little clearer now—a woman. As a general rule, my mom didn’t yell. When she was angry, she took a breath and counted to ten, and fear was met with a flat, daring expression. It couldn’t be anybody but Atticus’s mom.

Quickly, before the rest of the staff could get to the house, I sprinted through the back door, closed it, and locked it. I moved through the kitchen and didn’t give mind to the mud and grass I was tracking inside. Any other time, I would have kicked my flip-flops off at the door or risked the wrath of Miss Ezra’s red-checked rag and the savage pop she’d give to my bottom for ruining her work.

The housekeeper was far from my mind as I rushed through the second foyer, the living room, the day room, into the main foyer, and up the stairs, two at a time. I was on the second floor, and before I knew it, I was on the third floor. Then, finally,

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