Page 70 of Let the Game Begin
I cracked my knuckles nervously, then put my fingers to the keyboard, ready to type whatever came into my mind. I started with the word “borderline” and immediately a long list of symptoms of the personality disorder popped up: poor impulse control, frequent outbursts of anger, attempted suicide, substance abuse, self-harm…
“Dissociative episodes, feeling detached from your emotions and your body…” I read aloud. “Intense but unstable relationships, engaging in risky behaviors like unprotected sex…”
I swallowed hard as I remembered our encounter in my room.
“Do you always do it bare?”
“No, only with you.”
I kept reading and searched further about causes of the disorder. I didn’t even know why I thought of borderline personality disorder, but having considered many of Neil’s behaviors at length, I had come to believe that there was something genuinely different—anomalous—about him.
“Research conducted to date on borderline personality disorder has not established a precise cause of the condition,” I continued to read carefully. “Prevailing professional opinion, however, is that secondary to genetic factors, anomalies in the early childhood development of the subject may have a particular impact upon emotional pathologies, such as the tendency to react intensely and immediately to even mild stimuli. Early experiences in the family environment could play a key role, particularly physical and psychological mistreatment, violence, abuse—”
Two raps on the door pulled me out of my reading. I huffed and called out a hasty “Yes, what is it?”
Logan entered the room shortly thereafter. I quickly tried to get rid of the shaken expression that I was sure I was wearing and put on a polite smile so as not to make him suspicious.
“Hey, is it cool if I come in?” he asked politely, moving toward me.
“Sure, of course.” I cleared my throat and minimized my browser window.
“What are you up to? Studying?”
I glanced at the open MacBook and nodded, trying not to let my nerves show.
“Yeah, just doing some research.” It wasn’t a total lie. I was looking for an explanation for his brother’s bizarre behavior, and though I was hardly a psychiatrist or psychologist, I thought that I might have found one.
“At nine o’clock at night?” He shook his head, disappointed in me. “There’s a party I’m going to with everyone, and Kyle asked me if you’d be there.” He bit his lip, amused.
I grimaced and gave him a suspicious look. “Well, you can tellKylethat Selene will be staying home and studying.” I gave him a mocking smile, and he frowned slightly.
“You’re really going to stay home?”
“I’m really going to stay home,” I confirmed. I preferred to spend my nights with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate anyway.
“Okay, suit yourself. Mom and Matt went out to dinner with some friends. They took Chloe with them.”
Logan shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and rocked back on his heels. He peered at the decorative lights on my bookcase, thinking who knew what kind of thoughts.
“How is your sister?” I was worried about her. I knew that she had been skipping school and that she hadn’t even heard from a lot of her friends. It couldn’t have been easy, dealing with the fallout from a trauma like the one she’d suffered.
“Not good. She’s still scared a lot of the time, but my mom thinks she’s just having some trouble at school. She doesn’t know what really happened.” He bit the inside of his cheek and shot a look at me.
“And you’re not going to tell her?”
“Not for the moment.” He sighed heavily. I didn’t want to argue the merits of that strategy because, ultimately, it was a family issue. A family to which I didn’t yet fully belong. Still, I knew that Mia would not have been pleased to learn that Chloe had nearly been raped and that Neil had beaten her attacker to a pulp and no one had mentioned any of it to her.
After Logan left to join his friends at the party, I went down to the kitchen to get some orange juice. I perched on a stool and sipped my drink while mulling over what I’d read about borderline personality disorder. I wasn’t certain that it all applied to Neil, but a sixth sense told me I was on the right track.
“Someone’s thoughtful,” Anna commented as she passed a cloth over the glass doors that led out into the garden. The house always sparkled from top to bottom thanks to her impeccable work. She was diligent and professional, serious yet friendly—the Millers couldn’t have asked for a better housekeeper.
As I watched her, I wondered if maybe she could help me gather some more useful information about what was going on in Neil’s head. She had known him, after all, since he was a child.
“You’ve been here for a long time, Miss Anna,” I began as Anna continuedto buff the already squeaky clean glass of the door. “I was wondering if it was true what they say, that when you work for a family, you can come to love them like they were your own?” I raised my glass to my lips and Anna turned to give me a thoughtful look. Her short honey-blond hair was a perfect match for her hazel eyes, framed by an elegant pair of glasses.
“Absolutely, miss. Mia has become like a sister to me, and I think of her children as my children.” She nodded emphatically, and I knew I was on to something with this.
“Tell me about them. You seem to know them so well, and I’ve only been here for a few weeks.” I pretended to be innocently curious about my father’s family, the one that had welcomed me and hosted me here in this opulent mansion, concealing my true inquisitorial intentions.
