Keep My Secrets by Elena Wilkes

Author:Elena Wilkes [Wilkes, Elena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hera
Published: 2021-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

She made her way softly up the stairs. The boom and chatter of the TV was comforting as she stepped onto the landing. The air around her crackled with a faint static charge.

Charlotte. She felt suddenly very close.

The landing light cast grey triangular shadows down the walls. The air was thick with her presence. There was a tiny movement: a flicker in the darkness over in the corner, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn her head. If she looked… But she didn’t want to.

Her eyes tilted.

Charlotte’s bedroom door that had been tightly closed before, now sat slightly open. A faint breath of perfume eased through the gap. She recognised it immediately.

Her hand came up. It was like a compulsion.

Listening for a moment with tightened breath, she put a finger on the door. The muffled sound of the TV was still rumbling on in the background.

You want to do this, something inside her said. You need to.

Poking the edge of the door gently, she watched the landing light spreading its geometric shape as the room opened up in front of her eyes.

A single bed sat neatly under the window. One wall held a white chest of drawers with an ornate, white-framed mirror sitting above it. At the foot of the bed was a cream sheepskin rug that she’d be terrified to even put a foot on. There was a full-length white bookcase rammed with books on the opposite wall. She had never seen so many books in her life. She glanced back down the stairs, and then took a step forward.

Charlotte’s presence was as real as if she were sitting quietly on the side of the bed. In the light from the landing, she could see her, painting her toenails: one knee crooked, her heel balanced on the edge of the mattress, head bent and concentrating on the sweep of the tiny brush. She blinked. Of course there was no one there.

A light glinted dully and she turned her head. But the mirror only reflected her own image, paused, as though she’d just been asked a question and was about to answer. Somewhere over her shoulder, the shape of Charlotte drifted past. She looked around quickly. She wasn’t there. She really wasn’t.

But the urge to touch her things, was.

She went over to the bed and smoothed her hand across the covers, her fingers grazing the deep pink pillows – She’d been here, and here, and here.

Imagining, imagining…

Charlotte’s face turned sideways in sleep. She could almost hear the quiet draw of breath, her hair splayed out, creamy gold against the rose pillowcase. Next to the bed was a dresser with a shaded lamp. In front was a box full of all kinds of makeup and a pot of brushes. Her hairbrush – wooden and expensive-looking, still had a few stray hairs clinging to it. She picked it up, bringing it to her nose. Charlotte was there, as real and as solid as if she’d just whisked the bristles through her blonde curls.

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