“What state?”

“The talking to herself state. The scribbling on books and every surface state. The crying without a reason state. You name it.”

No.

That…that doesn’t seem like the Alicia I knew. It sounds like a completely different person altogether. Sure, she suffered from depression, but she had it under control. Margot must be confused, because my sister never talked to herself or scribbled on books or —

The books in her room. She did have those red circles.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped any boundaries,” Margot says. “I know she was your sister.”

“Did Aiden know about the state she was in?”

“He probably did, but he was too young and has chosen to remember the good parts.”

“How about…Jonathan?”

“Of course he did. Who do you think protected the children from her?”

I still don’t think my sister was that bad, but I say, “Thank you, Margot.”

She smiles a little, and I feel like maybe I managed to break the ice between us.

As soon as she disappears down the hall, I quicken my pace to the third floor and go straight to Alicia’s room.

I don’t care how disturbing those books are. If they hold any evidence about why my sister kept this facet of her life hidden from me, I need to know what it is.

It’s like she lived a double life. One was the soft, sweet Alicia who came to find me and buy me things. And then there was the mentally unwell Alicia whom Margot hated so much, that she ended up automatically hating me just because we look the same.

My hand turns clammy as I sit cross-legged on the floor, my back to the bed, and read from the book.

Six Minutes.

It takes me a while to get past the first chapter, even though it isn’t long. Every paragraph, I have to pause, take a deep breath, and stop myself from getting flashbacks of the victims’ faces or the members of the public that came to find me, before I continue reading.

After the first chapter of a man burying a body, we’re taken back to three months in the past.

That’s when I start noticing a pattern.

A few words are underlined in a red pencil crayon. Others are circled.

Emptiness.

Death.

Life.

Need.

Reason.

Strange.

Following the trails of such words distracts me from the flow of the book and I find myself flipping pages just so I can find the rest of the words.

What could this mean?

I touch my watch, trying to put everything I know thus far together.

Alicia’s father was abusive. Mum told her to cut all ties with me — which she didn’t. She suffered from depression and insomnia, amongst other things.

She read such books and used the red marker to highlight things, which I’m sure means something.

With every new piece of information I learn, the hole that is Alicia’s life keeps getting bigger. It’s like I know nothing about the real her.

A sound comes from down the hall and I slam the books shut, putting them back how I found them.

I peek out from the door in case Jonathan is there. No one. Phew.

Sneaking out, I turn around to close the door as quietly as I possibly can.

“What are you doing?”

I yelp like a girlie girl at the strong voice coming from behind me. Damn Jonathan.

You know what? Enough. It’s not like I’m doing something wrong.

Facing him, I cross my arms over my chest. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m paying you a visit.”

“Paying me a visit?” He raises a brow.

“Yeah.” I brush past him and head towards his room, which is the last one to the right side of the corridor. I figured that out in one of my earlier snooping sessions.

This is a bit out of the blue, but it’s part of my ‘pushing the tyrant’ plan.

I stand in the middle of his room. It’s the same size as mine with a high platform bed and a tall French door that I’m sure leads to the balcony. The walls and sheets and even the carpet are different nuances of grey. Like his eyes. Fitting.

I don’t have to wait long for Jonathan to follow after me, but he doesn’t close the door. His height fills the entrance, and he appears straight out of a fashion show with his pressed trousers and grey shirt. Only Jonathan would look completely presentable after a long day at work.

“What do you think you’re doing, Aurora?”

“You spent the night in my room. It’s only fair I spend the night in yours.”

“That won’t be happening.”

“You want payment first? Fine.” I throw my bag on the chair, yank off my jacket and shirt, and follow with my trousers so that I’m just in my underwear. Like that first time I came to this house to agree to his deal.

Funny how things come full circle.

Just like back then, he doesn’t make a move to touch me. However, his eyes heat with clear lust. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing. I simply want to spend the night here.”

“And you think that will be possible, why?”

“Because I want to. Isn’t that reason enough?”

“Why now? You were completely fine with our sleeping arrangements for two months.”

“Well, I changed my mind. People change, Jonathan.”

“You don’t get to change your mind. You belong to me, not the other way around. You do as I ask and what I please, remember?”

“I want my own terms.”

“Your own terms were, and I quote, ‘what you please’.”

“I can’t do this anymore, Jonathan, okay? I can’t pretend this whole thing is fine. You have to give me something in return.”

He pauses, narrowing his eyes on me for a fraction of a second before snapping back to normal. “No.”

“No?” I snap.

“Yes, no. And watch the way you fucking speak to me.”

“I’m not leaving,” I say with a calmness I don’t feel. “I’m going to show up in your room every day. So you might as well dish out your punishment and let me stay here.”

For a moment, we just stare at each other. I don’t back down, even when my skin turns hot and tingly. Even when the look in Jonathan’s eyes darkens.

This is one of those times where he’s frightening and I should stay away. But that would mean being stomped on, and I won’t allow that.

I will not be intimidated. I will not be intimidated.

“Get on your knees.” His voice pierces through the silence.

“Does that mean you agree?”

“On your knees, Aurora.”

I comply, bending my legs until my knees meet the plush carpet beneath me.

Jonathan moves towards me with purposeful strides, undoing his belt.

By the time he reaches me, my heart almost leaps out of my chest due to both fear and anticipation. No idea how he manages to trigger different emotions in me simultaneously.

“Remember when you said I can’t fuck your mouth? This is your punishment.”

“Fine,” I whisper.

“Open your mouth,” he orders.

“I want a deal.”

“When I said open your mouth, I didn’t mean to talk.”

I lift my chin. “Give me what I want and I’ll do the same.”