Chapter one: 1932 I cross my rail thin legs and allow my hair to fall over my shoulder and into my face like a brittle wave. I write with even, practiced strokes. Knowing they will be my last. Dear finder, I hope all is well for you. This isn't a normal letter or a normal from the past request, I hope you are well because one way or another, you won't be soon. Please help me. I'm about to die, starvation and exile to this attic have wrecked my body. I don't want to live anymore. Not even for the bundle of blankets that is my son. I know he might be bones when you read this, but please, revenge my death. The keeper of the lies wants the gifts of this house, you must stop him. Quickly now, find it. Something old Something new Something borrowed Something blue. I know you can stop him. You have to! Jemma I stick the letter into the spirals of my journal. Then the only clue I have in possession in the folds of a cakey veil. The lace breaks in my hand. "Until death do we part," I croon to my son as I tie the noose over the support in front of the window.
Chapter two: Dancing with the Attic I feel Diego's able hand grip my waist as I look straight ahead as instructed. My smokey eyes are level with his collar bone. One of my hands is enveloped in his chocolate skin, the other on his shoulder. "Very nice Diego and Sharolette! Just a bit closer together," Mrs. Seedly's hand presses on my back. I'm sandwiched against Diego, his cologne modern and sharp in my nose. Mrs. Seedly topples away on her heels. "And a one, two, three," her voice fades out as Diego mimics her high whine. I chuckle looking up, which causes me to trip over the hem of my dress and onto the floor, Diego lands half on me. "What are you doing??" Mrs. S demands.