Page 242 of Bound By Crimson

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I’ll wait, she thought. I’ll wait for the maid. I’ll hit her. Run. Grab Noah.

She grabbed the heavy perfume bottle from her vanity and tucked it beneath the blanket like a weapon.

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Morning came.

No one.

Afternoon came.

Still silence.

She curled into herself on the bed, her stomach hollow, her body aching.

Then—her hand grazed the edge of the mattress.

She remembered.

The journal.

She pulled it out from between the mattress and box spring with shaking fingers.

She didn’t open it. Just stared.

The door creaked.

Bernarda stepped inside, silent as always, her face unreadable. She placed a paper towel folded over a protein bar on the nightstand, followed by a small bottle of water.

As she turned to go, her eyes landed on the journal in Lyric’s lap.

Bernarda stared at the journal a moment longer. Something passed over her face—regret, maybe. Like she’d waited too long to say something that had been clawing at her for years.

“Where did you find that?” she asked, voice hushed.

Lyric said nothing. Her hand was quietly searching for the perfume bottle.

Bernarda hesitated, then stepped back toward the door.

“I once told you I knew your mother…”

Lyric froze.

“I didn’t just know her, I practically raised her. She was like my own.”

A pause.

“This is a cruel house to live in… especially for women.”

She looked over her shoulder, just once.

“I always believed she escaped through the attic. Mrs. Thornwick never figured it out. I think… there might be another door.”

Her gaze dropped to the journal in Lyric’s lap. Her voice softened.

“I never stopped thinking about her. I prayed she was okay.”

Her lips parted, like she might say more.

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