Page 44 of Flowers in the Attic (Dollanganger 1)

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detested grandmother.

With the slim stem of glass in his mouth, Cory

stared up at his mother as if at a golden angel come to

save him in his time of distress. And I, his pretend

mother, was forgotten.

"Sweetheart, darling baby," she crooned. And she

picked him up from the bed and carried him to the

rocker, where she sat down to put kisses on his brow.

"I'm here, darling. I love you. I'll take care of you and

make the pains go away. Just eat your meals, and

drink your orange juice like a good little boy, and

soon you'll be well."

She put him to bed again, and hovered over him

before she popped an aspirin into his mouth and gave

him water to swallow it down. Her blue eyes were

misted over with troubled tears, and her slim white

hands worked nervously.

I narrowed my eyes as I watched her eyes close,

and her lips move as if in silent prayer.

Two days later Carrie was in the bed beside Cory,

sneezing and coughing, too, and her temperature

raged upward with terrifying swiftness, enough to

panic me. Chris looked scared, too. Listless and pale,

the two of them lay side by side in the big bed, with

little fingers clutching the covers high under their

rounded chins.

They seemed made of porcelain, they were so

waxy white, and their blue eyes grew larger and larger

as they sank deeper and deeper into their skulls. Dark

shadows came under their eyes, to make them seem

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