Author's Preface
Vera was awake late on the last evening of June.
After another day of helping around the resort, talking to her friends, and wrangling Miles into Netflix breaks—she sighed, laying on her stomach across the bed, watching a sitcom on Hulu, and feeling tired, though she simply couldn’t fall asleep. The only light in the huge room was the brilliance of the television screen, and she lay alone, as it was nearly one in the morning, and everyone else had retired to bed a while ago.
She couldn’t know why, but something simply kept her awake, lying with her head perched upright, chin resting on the pillow she embraced, feeling alert, as if she simply needed to keep watch. She sometimes felt this way in the old days, when she’d sleep in her van, and she’d hear the voices and footsteps of people nearby, keeping a vigilant eye on whatever was going on outside, just in case someone tried to break into the van or harm her. She kept a .25 beside her driver seat for just such occasions, and those paranoid nights of her past were often the reason she’d spent so many days working with little or no sleep.
Now, however, it was truly pointless to feel such a way. After all, she was living in the safest place she ever had, and on the top floor, far from anyone else in the resort, and far from anyone who might break in, not that such a scenario even seemed likely to her. There was no conceivable reason she ought to feel the need to be vigilant right now, but still, for whatever reason, she simply did.
Vera sighed again, crawling out of the bed and wandering over to the bathroom. A nice, hot bath would usually help her to fall asleep.
She pulled the door open and flipped the light on, illuminating the spacious bathroom, large sink to the right, portraits on the walls, and the big, rounded tub just across from her.
Stifling a yawn, she stationed herself at the sink, running hands down her face and catching her reflection in the mirror, meeting her own eyes.
There her face was, smooth, pale, and almost without lines, though she swore she could see her twenties walking further and further away from her each time she saw herself in a mirror. Her black hairs lay down, nearly reaching the bottom of her neck now, and her shiny blue eyes looked as tired as she felt.
But the face, it stared, with her expression, with her reflection—smirking with a wide cocked eye, tilted head, broken crook of a smile, wild, not her at all.
Vera gasped sharply—reeling back and clasping her mouth, her back pressed to the wall as her heart jolted painfully into her throat.
For countless silent seconds, she merely stared in the moments after—ogling her reflection, simply her reflection, showing only her stance against the wall, her hand held to her face, and the look of shock painted across her expression, no hint of a strange, wild visage at all.
“What the… fuck was that?” Vera breathed, lowering her hand and shooting the mirror a look, as if she expected it to answer her.
Another long, still silence transpired, and she saw only herself in the mirror, reading the reflection with grave perturbation.
Vera took in a deep, slow breath, now feeling as if she wanted anything but a hot bath.
She knew she was fairly tired now, and she’d likely just imagined whatever she’d just seen—but, nevertheless, she simply didn’t want to be in this room anymore.
So, she crawled back into her bed, and for once, she left the TV on all night long, as the simple levity of a 90s sitcom was the only thing in the room that could bring her a sense of peace now.
She hadn’t the faintest clue how long it took for her to fall asleep, but it felt like an eternity.
Eventually, when she blinked herself awake, the TV had gone dark and quiet, and the late morning sun was washing over the side of her room, brighter than she’d usually see when she’d awaken.
She must have overslept.
Vera yawned, feeling a touch of anxiety from whatever she’d just been doing in her dream, but she couldn’t recall what it was, exactly.
So, she yawned, looked around, and decided to finally have her bath now.
Turning on her phone, pulling up a music app, and placing it beside the sink, Vera set out her clothes for the day before shedding her dirty ones, flicking them off in the corner of the bathroom before closing the door. The large bath tub slowly filled with hot water, complete with bubbles and Epson salt, and music began to play faintly from her phone just when she sank into the water.
Vera didn’t hear it at first, simply lying back and sinking her head mostly down, soaking her hairs and submerging her ears, relishing in the comfort of the hot water, erasing many of her little aches and pains. She used her foot to turn the faucet off, then simply basked in the comfort of the hot, watery embrace.
When she gently raised her head again, she heard the music clearly, and she scoffed out a laugh.
“Welcome, to the Hotel, California… such a lovely place… such a lovely face. Ready a room, at the Hotel, California…”
“Oh… that’s nice,” Vera snarked. “Thanks, Spotify. Perfect. Perfect freaking song…”
While she enjoyed her bath—Miles approached her room and knocked on her door with his free hand, his other one holding a tray of lunch foods. When there was no response to his knock, he leaned forward and spoke through the door.
“Miss Nightingale,” he said. “You were dead to the world during breakfast, but I imagined you’d still want lunch.”
Nobody replied.
Miles sighed, turning the knob and pushing the door open, finding the room empty, and the bed messy. Then, he heard the music echoing from behind the bathroom door, so he approached it and knocked on it twice, speaking again.
“Miss Nightingale, I have a double cheeseburger here that I know you’d hate to waste,” Miles said to the door, glimpsing down at the tray, where two plates of burgers and fries sat. “Don’t force me to eat both of these lunches alone.”
“I’m taking a bath,” Vera called out. “Just bring it in here.”
Miles hesitated, perking his brow and slowly curling his fist closed.
“Ahm,” he uttered, making an odd face and leaning closer to the door again. “Are you sure ?”
“Yeah—just come in here,” Vera insisted.
Miles sighed heavily, giving the door another odd look before slowly, gently, easing it open. He barely opened it a foot before peeking in, surveying the bathroom, and he saw that the shower curtains were drawn, covering the bath tub and sealing her from his sight.
“Oh…” Miles breathed, nodding and pushing the door fully open. “Oh, I see. Well, here you are. I’ll place it on the sink for you.”
“Thank yooou,” Vera said from behind the curtain. “Did you bring yours too?”
“As always,” Miles replied, placing the long tray overtop of the sink. “But I suppose I’ll take mine to go this time.”
“You can eat in here,” Vera told him. “I don’t care.”
Miles turned and narrowed his eyes caustically at the shower curtain. “You want me to eat my lunch in your lavatory.”
“You’re awful damn picky,” Vera chided.
Miles choked out a laugh, shaking his head and facing forward—and then, his eyes landed on the mirror, on his reflection, staring into it intensely.
“Sorry I wasn’t up this morning,” Vera said. “I just could not sleep last night…”
Miles continued to glare at his own reflection, his expression now serious.
“No,” he muttered softly. “I’d imagine not.”
“I don’t know why… I just kept feeling like… like the way I used to feel sleeping in the van,” Vera explained. “Like something bad might happen if I let my guard down.”
Miles said nothing, his face etched with severity, his eyes locked firmly onto the image of himself in the mirror.
“And… y’know… I didn’t feel anything when I went up to the clock tower. I thought I’d start mourning if I actually went and looked at that place… but… I just haven’t,” Vera added. “And I think it’s coming into my dreams. Hell… I think it’s seriously messing with my head. I thought I saw something crazy in the mirror last night.”
“Really,” Miles murmured distantly, his visage falling colder by the second as he glared into the mirror, and the mirror glared back. “Do tell.”
“Well… I mean, I was really tired,” Vera admitted. “That’s probably why… but still… it was just… wild -looking. It was me, but… for like a split fraction of a second… it wasn’t me. My face was all warped, and my eye was big and weird, and I had this smile on me like a…”
“Demon,” Miles understood.
Vera fell silent for a moment. She stared up at the ceiling above the bath tub, gently adjusting her legs in the water, and mildly nodding as she did.
“Demon,” she uttered. “Yeah, that’s like… that’s like the perfect way to describe it.”
Miles’s teeth began to clench, his eyes venturing down, fixating on the fancy glass bottle of hand soap at the corner of the sink.
He reached out, grasped the bottle, and locked eyes with his reflection again, slowly raising his arm and preparing to smash it into the—
“Hey,” Vera said—suddenly pulling the curtains back, just enough to reveal her face. “Can you scoot my lunch over here?”
Miles’s head whipped to the side, meeting her gaze with his brows raised, his arm still upright, holding up the glass bottle high as if he was about to bash it into the mirror.
Vera shot him a strange look. “What’re you doing?”
Miles’s mouth drifted agape, and then he smirked, softly lifting the bottle up and down. “Just checking to see if it’s still mostly full, Madame. I’m the one who has to refill these, you know.”
Vera stared at him skeptically for a second, then vanished behind the curtain again.
Miles sighed disdainfully, giving another grave stare to the mirror, slowly placing the bottle back down. Reacting in such a way wasn’t feasible right now…
“You know… I think I will join you in here,” Miles resolved, sitting on the toilet’s lid and placing the tray of food in his lap. “Not that I find this to be sanitary at all.”
“It’s just brunch in the bathroom. Hey… there we go. We can make a Godawful new Nightingale tradition,” Vera snickered. “Brunch in the bathroom.”
“It’s not brunch… it’s lunch , Madame. You slept well past the brunch time slot.”
“Oh, pfff, well… excuse the hell outta me.”
Miles chuckled softly, placing her plate of food on the tiled floor and gently scooting it toward the corner of the tub, where her hand slid out from behind the curtain, plucking a fry off the plate once every ten seconds or so.
Miles glanced to his left, glaring at the mirror again.
Then, he began to neatly saw his burger in half with his steak knife atop the tray, trading conversation with Vera about various things as the time began to pass.
Later on—after their meals were eaten, and after Miles stepped out, allowing her to get dressed—Vera sauntered out with her silky transparent over-shirt on above a tank top, having just dried and combed her hair, and the two of them set off to the lobby down below.
When Vera and Miles emerged from the hallways of the bottom floor, they saw that a new family had just arrived at the front desk.
Nathan Sindaco, the head of the family, wore a dark navy suit, with a slim visage and short black hair, trading conversation with Sarah. His wife, Amy, was a petite blonde—one who instantly made Vera think of all the mean cheerleaders she recalled from high school—and the young man standing a few feet away was their son, a twenty-something with dark sandy hair hidden beneath a baseball cap, wearing a hoodie, pocketing his hands, and absentmindedly looking away. The daughter—Alison—appeared to be around thirteen, and she stood smiling by her father’s side, clearly pleased to be part of the situation, unlike her older brother.
“Mr. Sindaco,” Miles greeted with a smile, marching forward and making a nod.
“Miles,” Nathan replied, returning the smile and nod. “How’re things?”
“Wildly unethical, sir,” Miles told him whimsically, both of them chuckling.
“Ah—excuse me,” Amy said, leaning on the front counter and giving Sarah a look, holding up one of the room keys. “This says room fourteen. We requested two rooms side-by-side.”
“Oh, I know you did, hun… but the Rick Rager party is coming here this year, and they did put in their request for rooms pretty early on,” Sarah informed, putting on her voice of sympathetic southern hospitality. “Rooms ten and fourteen were the best we could do.”
Vera, Miles, and Nathan stood nearby each other, quietly watching the exchange.
Amy huffed out a breath, shooting a disapproving glare at Sarah. “We can never just get what we ask for here, can we?”
“Amy,” Nathan said, giving her a look. “We just walked through the door. Manners.”
Amy ogled her husband as if he had slapped her across the face. Alison gazed up at her mother and frowned, lowering her head and wandering away, and the son—Tony—stood at the front window now, hands tucked into his hoodie as he dreamily stared outside.
“Although… manners are optional here,” Miles pointed out, leaning over and peering past Nathan at Sarah and Amy. “As it’s been made known to me by my current employer.”
Vera, Sarah, and Nathan all laughed at this, but Miles’s attempt at clearing the tension had no effect on Amy. The woman merely glared at the butler, poking out her mouth as her nostrils began to flare.
“Well… I don’t believe,” Amy snarled, sauntering over to him and folding her arms. “That I asked the servant for his little take on the situation.”
“And the manager,” Vera mumbled.
Amy’s eyes flickered over to Vera.
“Ex- cuse me?” the woman hissed, cocking her head and rounding on her.
“Miles is also the manager,” Vera said louder, her temper spiking instantly, giving Amy a burning glare. “But go ahead and keep running your mouth.”
“And who the hell do you think you are?” Amy snapped, inching closer.
“Vera Nightingale,” Vera stated, leaning closer and leering hotly into her. “Now shut up— or get the fuck out .”
At once, a thick, terrible silence fell over everyone in the lobby.
Miles stood beside Vera, glimpsing briefly over at her and trying to hide a smile that fought to emerge. Nathan merely stared at the two women, his eyes darting between Amy and Vera warily, and Sarah watched from behind the counter with her brows raised in surprise, her mouth slowly falling agape.
Vera and Amy maintained their hateful glare for several seconds that felt to last for years.
Then, at last, Amy seemed to withdraw, looking the Nightingale daughter up and down.
“Nightingale,” Amy mumbled.
“Yeah,” Vera confirmed with a powerful nod.
Amy gave her another once-over, scoffing and sighing. “I didn’t know who you were.”
“Mom,” a softer, raspier voice joined in—as Tony had joined the group now, leaning over his mother’s shoulder and giving her a look. “Can you not? C’mon. Just chill.”
Amy glanced over at her son, then let out another disdainful sigh. She marched past Vera, stormed into the nearest hallway, and disappeared from the scene.
There was another brief silence after her departure.
“Alison, Tony,” Nathan spoke up, beckoning his children forward and motioning to their bags beside the front counter. “Take our bags, and follow your mom up to our rooms.”
Tony and Alison both nodded, collecting the backpacks and rolling travel bags from the floor, and they vanished down the same hallway their mother had.
Then, Nathan released a heavy cloud of breath, turning back to Vera and Miles and wearing an exasperated sort of expression.
Vera looked to the man, instantly feeling a spark of regret. She didn’t feel bad for regarding Amy Sindaco in the way she had—but now she had to face Nathan after speaking fairly crassly to his wife.
“Sorry,” Vera mumbled awkwardly. “I just…”
“No… no,” Nathan muttered, raising a hand and giving her a reassuring look, even cracking a smirk. “Trust me. No need to apologize. Hell, I apologize for bringing her out in the daylight.”
Miles and Vera laughed in unison.
“And… you’re technically just her butler, right?” Nathan tried to clarify, squinting at Miles and pointing at Vera. “I forget exactly how it works… but I know you’re not everyone’s servant here, and I don’t know why Amy always thinks you are. I swear to God, she’s a five-dollar queen with a fifty-dollar attitude.”
“Precisely our clientele, sir,” Miles replied wittily. “She should feel right at home here.”
Nathan let out a laugh, nodding and glancing over at the hallway where his family had walked off. Then, he sighed and leaned forward, giving them an intense look and lowering his voice.
“Tony’s seven months sober, by the way,” Nathan whispered. “And they finally found a balance of medications that work for him. Shouldn’t be anything to worry about.”
“Very good, sir. He seemed quite well-rounded,” Miles responded, Vera nodding in agreement.
“Yeah… he’s been doing good,” Nathan said, glimpsing at the hall again. “Well… I’d better get upstairs and talk to her. See you at dinner.”
“Good luck,” Miles replied.
“Seeya,” Vera said with a wave.
The two of them watched as Nathan strolled out of the lobby, standing side by side and gazing into the hall even after he was gone.
“Jesus,” Vera breathed, scrunching up her face at the hallway. “What did he ever see in her? I bet you anything that marriage doesn’t last.”
“Connie and I already have that bet in play,” Miles murmured to her. “She thinks their dysfunction is what keeps their spark alive behind closed bedroom doors. I, on the other hand, know what it looks like when a man’s spirit is slowly being drained away. That woman is a vampire of the soul. So tragic and unfortunate when a man accidentally marries one of those.”
“Yeah… see, that’s exactly why I never had any girls as friends,” Vera agreed, crossing her arms and nodding. “There aren’t any good women in the world anymore.”
Miles almost began to nod, then stopped, turning and eyeing her.
Vera faced him, spotting his change of expression and giving him a questioning look. “What?”
“Nothing,” Miles said, turning away again.
“Oooh… you two,” Sarah grinned, slapping the counter and wrangling their attention, rapidly waving them over.
Vera and Miles traded eyes before approaching her.
“That… was… beautiful,” Sarah beamed, clasping Vera’s hand and giving it a shake. “Oh, honey, that woman gives me hell every time I see her. It is so, so nice to see somebody put her in her place for once. That just made my whole year.”
“As well as mine,” Miles added, smiling coyly and glancing over at Vera.
“You guys… it’s not a big deal,” Vera laughed, shaking her head. “You have to push people back sometimes. That’s just how the world is.”
“Well… it ain’t that simple when you work here, and you have to be polite to everybody all the time,” Sarah told her. “Can’t risk gettin’ fired.”
“Yeah, but you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” Vera said. “Miles is the manager, and I’m the owner. So who’s gonna fire you? Because neither one of us would.”
“Yes… I concur,” Miles affirmed.
Sarah glimpsed between the two of them, breathing out a laugh. “Well… I have gotta say, Miss Vera. You are really changing this place for the better. I mean it, sweetheart… for employees and guests all alike, you really are. Everybody’s just… happier now.”
“Really? Well… thank you,” Vera smirked, feeling herself flush.
“Honest to God, hun… Alex wasn’t a bad man, but he wouldn’t put up with us stickin’ up for ourselves when the customers got nasty,” Sarah said. “He’s fired people for talking back to customers plenty of times. Rest of us just learned to keep our damn mouths shut.”
“Yeah, well… I say the hell with that,” Vera disclosed. “You guys are all like a family here. Family should stick up for themselves… and each other.”
“ You’re part of the family too, hun,” Sarah told her genuinely. “You shouldn’t say ‘you guys’ like we’re all somethin’ different from you.”
Vera smiled at her, feeling warm inside, truly touched by Sarah’s words.
“Oh… bloody hell,” Miles grumbled, checking his watch and lowering his arm. “I wasn’t around to bring Mr. Abernathy any brunch, so I know he’ll be wanting a lunch now.”
“Well… go ahead,” Vera dismissed. “I was just gonna go play Street Fighter, anyway.”
Miles nodded and gave her a wave, then turned and set off, disappearing into the hall.
Vera turned and prepared to enter the narrower hall to the Underground, but Sarah whispered at her, beckoning her back to the counter. When she approached the counter again, Sarah leaned closer to her, adjusting her glasses and still wearing a warm, kind smile.
“Miles is happier now, too,” Sarah told her in a hushed tone.
Vera’s brows raised, leaning on the counter and making a curious face. “Yeah…?”
“ Oh yeah,” Sarah replied with a nod. “I have never seen him smile so damn much before. He smiles at you when you’re not even looking. Y’know that?”
Vera stared at her, pondering on this, and thinking of nothing to say.
“Those are just the kind of things I notice, sweetheart,” Sarah said, patting her on the hand. “And I can tell… he is really taken by you.”
Vera slowly gulped, her heart making a light flutter, still drawing a blank.
“Ah… really?” she managed.
Sarah nodded again. “ Everyone is. Margret was in here braggin’ on you again just yesterday, talking about how you came in and helped her load up all them sheets and blankets. Davies can’t stop laughing about how you and Miles just play off each other with your snarkiness. Jorge and Rosa adore you, and they talk you up real nice every time you come up in conversation. Wilson talks about you like you’re his granddaughter, and he loves having someone to talk to now, more than he’ll ever admit. And Miles… honestly, honey… Miles seems like he’d follow you to Hell and back. You’re being good to everyone here, so… yeah… of course we all love you for it. You don’t know how good you are, hun. You really don’t.”
“I…” Vera fell speechless, feeling deeply touched yet again. “I jus… I’m just trying to be decent to people. I don’t feel like I’ve really even done anything here…”
“Honey,” Sarah said sincerely, tightening her hand around Vera’s. “You being decent does everything for us here.”
Vera swallowed roughly, almost feeling as if she might cry, though she forced the urge down.
“Your father was ambitious, and he had good business sense—but he was cold, dear,” Sarah explained. “And you—hellfire—you’re just the polar opposite. Warm and caring as can be. You’re the little touch of human decency this place has needed for a damn long time.”
Vera stared downward, sparing her father a thought and frowning.
“I know what it’s like to need someone and not have them,” she mumbled. “I like trying to be there for people… so they don’t… feel like that.”
“Well… hun… you have,” Sarah said definitively, shaking her hand once before releasing it. “You’ve definitely done that now.”
Vera flashed a broken little smile, feeling her eyes begin to water. She instantly shook her head, inhaling deeply and forcing it all down best she could.
“Ohh… when you stuck up for Miles against that mean little witch, I wish you would’ve seen the look on his face,” Sarah beamed. “You just made his day when you did that. You really did.”
Vera breathed out a laugh.
“I bet nobody ever tells you what good you’re doing,” Sarah observed. “You seem like you’re not used to hearing it. People always overlook it when someone’s being good to them. But… well… least you don’t have to worry about it going unnoticed here. We all notice it… and we all appreciate it.”
“Okay…” Vera mumbled, nodding and wiping her eye with her palm.
“Oh… sweetheart,” Sarah said, smiling painfully and reaching out to her, only just realizing that she was tearing up. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“No… it’s okay… you’re not wrong,” Vera sputtered with another laugh. “I’m really not used to hearing stuff like that. You’re yanking on all my heartstrings…”
“Aww… I’m sorry.”
“Nah… it’s not a bad thing… I’m just not used to it.”
They both paused, and Vera cleared her throat, straightening up and smirking again.
“I’m really happy,” she knew. “I’m honestly really happy… that I’m actually making people feel better somehow…”
Sarah smiled tenderly. “Oh, you precious thing. You’ve no idea.”
Vera choked out a laugh again.
“Well… go play your video games,” Sarah concluded. “I’m not gonna talk your ear off and pull on all your heartstrings anymore.”
“Haha… okay… good talk,” Vera said, smiling and giving her a farewell wave. “Seeya later.”
When she walked away, vanishing around the corner and strolling down the narrow hall, her mind raced, dwelling on everything Sarah had told her, and still feeling touched to her core.
Honestly, the woman was right; nobody had ever showered Vera with so much praise before, and it wasn’t as if she was behaving very differently than she had in the past. She always tried to be there for people—because she knew what it was like not to have that—but this was the first time anyone really saw and appreciated it from her. In fact, it seemed the whole Nightingale did, and she simply felt on top of the world as she thumped down the stairs to the Underground.
As usual for this time of day, the Underground was mostly empty, and the jukebox music was kept at a low volume. Connie gave her an enthused wave in passing, and Vera stationed herself at the arcade games, busying herself with them for a while.
Eventually, she glanced to the side—only just noticing that Max was right beside her, watching her use the player one controls on the Street Fighter game.
“Ah… hey,” Vera muttered, motioning to the machine. “You wanna play?”
Max stared at her, opening his mouth to reply, but no words came out.
“It’s two-player,” Vera pointed out, gesturing to the player two controls. “You can play too, dude. I don’t mind.”
Max remained silent, though he seemed as if he wanted to say something. He lowered his head, mumbling something she couldn’t hear.
“What?” Vera asked, hunching slightly, leveling her eyes with his.
Max barely raised his head, his shiny brown eyes peering out from behind his bangs, staring into her with a sense of deep, profound thought, a strange thing to see in a boy so young.
“Is this place haunted…?” he asked in a voice so hushed, it was nearly a whisper.
Vera stared, her eyes narrowing at him. “Why’re you asking me that…?”
Max continued to stare with his look of intensity, biting his lip and gulping. He fidgeted with the edge of his dark band t-shirt, sighing before speaking on.
“The gong made noise by itself in the middle of the night,” he murmured faintly. “And I can’t stop having nightmares… and I heard voices.”
Vera slowly nodded, giving him a look of thoughtful concern. “What do you mean… you heard voices? When did you hear voices?”
“In the pool,” Max breathed, his voice shaking. “They wanted me to die.”
Vera said nothing, feeling a slow, icy chill run across her body.
“And they want me t… they want me t…” Max stuttered, looking down and shaking his head, suddenly fighting back tears. “Now they want me t…”
“They want you to what?” Vera said gently.
Max shook his head harder, glaring at the floor and balling his hands into fists. When he raised his head again, his cheeks shone in the dim lighting of the Underground, tears streaming down his miserable visage.
“They want me to kill people now,” he choked in a faint, shattered voice.
Vera was quiet, her expression falling stony, slowly sinking down and gingerly grasping the boy by the arms.
“Max,” she said intently. “Have you told your parents any of this?”
Max shook his head at the floor.
“Okay… you need to tell them,” Vera advised. “Because this is actually a mental thing, and it happens to a lot of people. They can treat you for it.”
“No… it’s not ,” Max growled, his voice suddenly rising. “It’s not crazy-people voices… it’s real voices ! They grabbed me and pulled me down in the water…!”
“Who did?”
“Th… th…” Max sputtered, waving loosely at the room all around him. “They… they … whatever’s living here !”
“Hey—hey,” Vera breathed, adjusting her grasp on him. “Do me a favor, and just tell your parents, okay? Whatever it is—they’ll figure out how to fix it for you.”
Max’s shoulders sank down, now gazing into her with a look of pitiful despair.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” he exhaled. “I know what you’re saying. I know what you think this is. But it’s not… and I can’t just tell my mom and dad that, because they won’t believe me either. If the real problem is what it seems like it is… then nobody can fix it. That’s why I asked you… ‘cuz you own this place… but if you don’t know what it is… then nobody… nobody…”
He shook his head once more, lowering it and choking out a sob.
Vera’s heart began to ache, pulling him closer and wrapping her arms around him.
Max shoved her away, thundering past her and racing out of the Underground.
Vera stood and turned, watching him go and feeling a flurry of unpleasant things as she did.
She felt empathy for the boy, and sadness at his rattled state of mind. She felt the need to go and speak to his parents now, and—behind all these deep, troubling concerns, gnawing persistently at the back of her mind—was the dark, bizarre, ridiculous, and unthinkable possibility that the boy was not wrong at all.
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