thing I tried to do to you," she said, and then stepped
 
 toward me again, lowering her voice sharply and
 
 narrowing her eyes into hateful slits. "And I'll explain
 
 to him and to everyone who wants or has to know
 
 how you've been so disruptive since you arrived, you
 
 nearly caused a fatal family crisis. I'll force the
 
 Andreas boy to confess to your sexual games in the
 
 art studio and have Gisselle testify to your friendship
 
 with that whore from Storyville." Her eyes widened
 
 and then hardened to rivet on me as she continued. "I'll have people believing you were a teenage
 
 prostitute in the bayou. For all I know, you were." "That's a lie, a dirty, horrible lie," I cried, but
 
 she didn't soften. Her face, the face with the alabaster
 
 complexion and those beautiful eyes, turned into the
 
 cold visage of a statue as she gazed down at me. "Is it?" She smiled again, a small, tight smile
 
 that drew her lips into thin lines. "I already have Dr.
 
 Cheryl's preliminary findings. He thinks you're obsessed with sex and will so testify if I like. And now you've gone and run away from the institution,
 
 embarrassing us even further."
 
 I shook my head, but there was no denying her
 
 vicious determination to overcome my defiance. "I'm going to see Daddy," I said in almost a
 
 whisper. "I'm going to tell him everything."
 
 "Go on." She lunged forward and grabbed my
 
 shoulders to turn me to the stairway. "Go on, you little
 
 Cajun fool. Go tell your Daddy." She pushed me
 
 toward the steps. I threw her an angry look and then
 
 charged up the stairs, my tears flying off my cheeks. When I got to the upstairs landing, I saw the
 
 door to Uncle Jean's room was shut tight, but I had to
 
 get Daddy to see me; I had to get him to let me in. I
 
 approached slowly and knocked and then pressed my
 
 cheek to the door and sobbed.
 
 "Daddy, please . . please, open up and let me in.