Page 30 of One Last Smile

I collapse back on the bed and pull my pillow over my face to cover it while I weep. Most of my nightmares do me the courtesy of leaving my memory when I wake, but this one remains vivid. I can still taste the coppery sweetness of Minnie’s blood.

I feel something wet on my chin and lift my hand to it. When I pull it away, a smudge of scarlet remains.

I sit upright again and look at the bloodstain on my pillow. I move my fingers slowly over my lips and wince when I reach a cut on the lower one. I bit my lip while I slept. That’s the blood I’m tasting.

It’s a macabre thought to feel relief that the blood I taste is my own, but the image of Minnie’s bleeding throat is still vivid in my mind, and having something concrete to hold onto that proves that the dream is over is a godsend. I take a deep breath and stand, and when I am on my feet and moving toward the bathroom, I am finally able to shake the terror that follows me upon waking.

I clean myself as best as I can, and when the alcohol sends a sharp sting of pain through my face, I cling to the sensation and allow it to drive the horror of the dream even deeper into my subconscious.

That was the worst one in a while. I had nightmares for years after Annie’s disappearance, but when I finished school and took up teaching, they receded and eventually disappeared. It wasn’t until I took the job at the Ashford estate earlier in the year that they returned.

A thoroughly unpleasant recollection comes to mind of visiting the local doctor in the small town outside of Buffalo where the Ashford estate was located. I went to be treated for a burn on my hand, but while I waited, the doctor there began questioning my mental state. She brought up an alleged hospitalization that I have no recollection of, a three-month stay in a sanitarium that supposedly took place shortly after my sister’s disappearance.

I didn’t believe her at the time, but then the Ashford family psychologist, an equally unpleasant man named Harrow, told me that I had complained to him of my nightmares, a conversation I am quite sure I didn’t have.

And now I’ve bitten my own lip to support a nightmare of vampirism brought on by my own guilt at losing Annie.

I think of Minnie’s accusation that is really my accusation. I’m only doing this to feel better about myself.

Is that true? It’s hideous to think so, but why am I concerning myself with her? I didn’t know her. She’s far from the first girl to go missing under mysterious circumstances, and if the Carltons are involved, then they’re far from the first wealthy family to hush up wrongdoing.

So why is it so important to me? Why do I have to solve this case? Because of Annie, of course.

But why? I’ve spent more than half my life without her, more than half my life leaving her in the past and building a sensible future for myself. Why have I suddenly decided to become a governess and insert myself into mysteries surrounding the dead and disappeared? Is this my version of a mid-life crisis?

Is it, after all, just selfish of me?

I sit with a start, and for a moment, I’m disoriented and unaware of my surroundings. Where am I? Wasn’t I in the bathroom?

The alarm on my phone beeps again, and I shut it off. Why am I sitting in bed again?

I check my pillow. The case is clean, free of stains. I lift a hand to my lip and feel the bandage. I didn’t imagine that part. I really did bite my lip and tend to it.

Then I obtained a new pillowcase somehow, and by the looks of it, new sheets as well. I confirm this a moment later when I see the soiled case and sheets in the hamper.

Why do I have no memory of that? If I can no longer rely on my own senses, then how can I trust anything? How can I trust myself?

I sit where I am, too frightened to move, for over an hour. It’s only when I hear voices outside that I risk leaving the room.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Mary, are you all right?” Eliza asks. “I heard you crying out in your sleep last night.”

I lift my head from my breakfast and see concern on the faces of all present. Heat creeps up my cheeks. “Oh. I apologize. I was having a nightmare. You… you all heard it?”

Their bedrooms are a full two floors above mine. If they heard me, I must have been screaming quite loud.

Alistair confirms that a moment later when he says, “I think the whole estate heard it. Oliver and I were nearly ready to rush to your aid.”

“Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude on your sleep.”

“It’s not the sleep we’re worried about,” Veronica assures me. “Are you sure you’re all right, dear? Have you been having trouble sleeping?”

“Oh… it’s nothing. It’s an old…” I continue to stammer, wanting to reassure them but not wanting to reveal anything.

I do, however, want to speak further with Dr. Chalmers. He seems to know a lot about Minnie’s disappearance, more than he revealed earlier. I can understand his reticence inside the Carlton house, but perhaps he’ll feel more comfortable speaking in his office.

I don’t want to blatantly ask to see him, though. I don’t want to run even a slight risk of creating suspicion. I try to leave a hint and hope that one of them will suggest visiting him. “I’ll just run to town for some sleeping pills perhaps. I intended for Lucas to use today to catch up on the schoolwork he missed in Madrid, but maybe we can do that tomorrow instead.”

---