Page 28 of The House That Held Her

The shock of it nearly stops my heart. Her black hair is drenched, dripping and clinging to her face. She turns her head slightly, one eye peering at me through a parted curtain of hair.

I jolt backward, missing the window altogether and landing hard on the floor with my spine jammed against the wall. Before I can scramble to my feet, Penny lunges, scuttling out from under the bed and onto my lap in one unnervingly fast move.

I open my mouth to scream, but her cold, slick hand seals over my lips, silencing me. In the dim light, I see how wild her eyes look. “You need to leave,” she whispers, almost humming the words. “They’re… watch-ing.” She draws out the final syllables in a sing-song, twisted lullaby that sets my nerves on edge. “They’re always watching. If you keep asking questions, you’ll disappear, too.”

My chest heaves, blood roaring in my ears. “Who’s they?” I whisper against her clammy palm. “Who is watching, Penny?”

She shoots a frantic glance around the room. “They. Their. Her. Him. His. They. Their. Her. Him. His. Him. My him. My Michael.My Michael!” She shrieks his name and hurls her head forward, slamming it into the floor just inches from my leg.

Blood seeps across the floorboards, pooling near my thigh. I catch only glimpses of Penny’s twisted features as the light slices through the window, shining across her face. I’m too stunned to move until I feel the warm trickle of blood spatter hit my face. With a strangled cry, I push her away and lunge for the window.

I hurl myself out and land in an awkward sprawl, scrambling to get on my feet. I don’t look back. No one chases me, but my heart pounds so fiercely I can’t hear anything else. I burst into a sprint.

Only when I’m behind the wheel of my car do I realize how badly I’m shaking. I stare at my own reflection in the rearview mirror, splatters of crimson line my jawbone. In my mind, I can still see Penny’s wide, frenzied eyes and smell the coppery tang of her blood in that tiny bedroom.

I jam the key into the ignition, throw the car in drive, and peel away from the Lark house as though the devil himself is on my tail.

Fear clings to me like an oily residue, refusing to slip away. My mind reels, trying to process Penny’s horrifying behavior, her cryptic words—“They’re always watching.” As the road stretches on, I realize I’m now running from something far more sinister than I could have ever imagined. Now I know—deep in my bones—that whatever haunted Penny Lark is now coming for me.

16

Ikeep my eyes locked on the road as fresh rains begins to fall, hammering the windshield. The glare of headlights and the smear of yellow lines blend into a blur. A faint streak of Penny Lark’s blood stains my jeans—a sickening reminder of the nightmare I just fled. Over and over, I see her bashing her head against the floor, hear that gruesome thud echoing in my mind, merging with the roar of rain and thunder outside.

My fingers ache from gripping the steering wheel so hard. I try to clear my head, slow my racing thoughts. I start going through questions I need answered, almost like a checklist:

Who are “they”? The person responsible for the skulls in the chest? Why would Penny lie about her son? Is she being coerced? Threatened? Is she delusional, sick? I can’t shake the memory of her wild, terrified eyes and the panic that seeped into my own soul.

I think about going to the police. My foot hovers over the gas, and more than once, I almost flick the blinker to turn back into town. But something deep in my gut warns me that might be dangerous—especially if Penny’s right and there are people out there watching. I need someone I can trust implicitly.

I approach the highway on-ramp, frustration knotting my stomach, and fumble around the cup holder for my phone. I need a steady voice on the other end of the line. I need home. With Nate gone, only one name bounces through my head: Shannon.

Shannon Morgan has been my best friend since we were twelve—always the pragmatic one, always with a plan. She graduated from the University of Maryland School of Law with a 4.0 GPA and a desire to make a difference in the world. When my life spun out, when CPS questioned my ethics after Lila’s death, Shannon stood by my side, both in court and out. She dismantled the prosecution’s arguments until I was cleared, bolstered my courage, and refused to let me give up. She’s the only person I can think of who can keep me grounded right now.

My hand trembles as I dial her number. It only rings twice before she answers, her voice playful and light.

“Please tell me you finally listened to Chromatica, and it’s changed your life?” she teases, voice airy. “BLACKPINK, Ariana, and the rocket man himself? I mean, come on, what a record.”

But she notices my silence. “Margot? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

I swallow, the steering wheel creaking under my tight grip. “No, I’m not okay,” I manage. “I… I need help. I don’t know where else to turn.”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m here. Talk to me.”

I take a shuddering breath. “I’ve been doing some investigating into a missing-person case. It’s about a boy named Michael, stolen from his home fifteen years ago. I… found his mother, Penny Lark, she’s not far from the new house in Mount Dora. When I probed her for information regarding her son, she told me that she didn’t have a son. And not in like a “my son is gone” kind of way, but in a “I never had a son” kind of way.

“Okay, sure, that’s tragic, but Margot, trauma like that can– “

“I wasn’t finished”, I interject.

“I knew something was wrong. The exchange didn’t feel right. The way her eyes changed when I mentioned Michael’s name; I knew I couldn’t just leave. I went around to the side of her house. And Shannon, I found the boy’s room. It looked untouched with his bed and toys still there. Above the bed was Michael’s name in colorful, wooden letters.”

I let the story spill out, in excruciating detail, which I hoped would help me make sense of what I just experienced, but no luck. “Right as I was ready to leave, I heard this awful whispering sound. Shannon, the woman was hiding under the bed, her son’s bed. She was already in the room when I broke in.”

“Jesus Christ, Margot, you’re going to get arrested!” Shannon exclaims.

“No, listen Shan! She scared the shit out of me, I tripped and when I did, the womancrawled into my lap.She told me as clear as day that someone was watching her and if I didn’t stop asking questions, they’d make me disappear too. And then… and then she started slamming her head into the floor, Shannon. There was blood–I just freaked out, I ran.” Tears start flowing now.

“Okay, okay. This is nuts. Margot, you broke into a woman’s house after stirring up memories that are probably extremely triggering. I’m not surprised the poor woman was self-harming!” I can hear the disappointment in Shannon’s voice. I screwed up and it’s really hitting me now.

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