Chapter 10: Confronting Mark

The next morning, Mark didn't come to check on me.

Chloe did.

She walked in with a tray of toast and herbal tea, her face a serene mask of benevolence. She looked rested, her skin glowing, her hair pulled back in a neat French braid. I felt grimy and sour in comparison, my own hair plastered to my scalp with sweat.

"Mark said you had a rough night," she said, setting the tray down. She didn't look at me directly; she busied herself with fluffing my pillows, her movements brisk and efficient.

"I slept fine," I lied.

"Did you?" She paused, her hands resting on the duvet. "He said you were confused. Seeing things."

"I saw what I saw."

She turned to me then, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Grief is a tricky thing, Elara. It plays tricks on the mind. Mark told me about the baby you lost. Elena."

The name hung in the air, sucking the oxygen out of the room. I hadn't told her about the name. Mark had said he told her about the stillbirth, but he hadn't mentioned the name Elena was a lie. A cover story.

"He told you about Elena?" I asked, keeping my voice neutral.

"Of course. We don't keep secrets." She smiled, a small, pitying thing. "He said you've been fixating on her lately. Projecting her memory onto... other things."

"Is that what he calls it?"

"He's worried about you. We both are." She reached into her pocket and pulled out the pill bottle. The rattle was loud in the quiet room. "Dr. Thorne increased the dosage. He thinks it will help with the hallucinations."

She shook two yellow pills into her palm.

Two.

"I only take one," I said, backing away against the headboard.

"Not anymore. Dr. Thorne called it in this morning. He wants to get ahead of the psychosis before it gets worse."

She held out her hand. "Open up."

"I want to speak to Dr. Thorne myself."

"He's busy. He trusts us to administer his instructions." Her voice hardened, losing its sugary edge. "Take them, Elara. Or do I have to call Mark? He's already late for work."

I looked at the pills. Two of them. Double the fog. Double the paralysis. If I took them, I wouldn't just be sleeping; I'd be gone.

"I need water," I said, reaching for the carafe.

"No water until you swallow."

She stood over me, unmoving. She wasn't going to let me cheek them. She was going to watch until they were down.

I took the pills. I put them in my mouth. They tasted like chalk and bitterness.

"Swallow," she ordered.

I swallowed dry. It felt like swallowing stones. I opened my mouth to show her.

"Good." She handed me the tea. "Now drink."

I drank. The hot liquid burned my throat, washing away the taste of the poison.

Chloe watched me for a moment longer, then nodded, satisfied. She picked up the tray.

"Get some rest," she said. "You look terrible."

She walked to the door.

"Chloe?"

She stopped, looking back.

"Why do you lock the door at night?"

Her expression didn't change. Not a flicker of guilt.

"We don't want you wandering," she said. "You might hurt yourself."

"Or I might see something I'm not supposed to."

She stared at me, her eyes cold and flat. "There's nothing to see, Elara. Just a happy family trying to survive a tragedy."

She closed the door. The lock didn't click.

I waited until her footsteps faded down the stairs. Then I shoved my finger down my throat.

It took three tries. My body fought me, retching and heaving, but finally, I threw up into the wastebasket. Bile and tea and two half-dissolved yellow pills.

I wiped my mouth, trembling.

I wasn't hallucinating. I wasn't crazy.

Mark had lied about the photo. He had lied about the ring.

And Chloe had lied about Elena.

Mark had told me Elena was his daughter who died. But Chloe had spoken about her differently. *He said you've been fixating on her lately.*

She didn't speak about Elena like a lost niece. She spoke about her like a rival.

I stood up, my legs shaking. I needed to get out of this room. I needed to find the tablet Mark had taken.

But as I reached for the door handle, I heard it.

A sound from the vent.

It wasn't the furnace. It wasn't the air conditioning.

It was a voice. Mark's voice.

"...she knows too much, Chlo. She saw the ring."

And then Chloe's voice, distorted but clear.

"You're confusing reality again, honey. Maybe we need to up the dosage."