Cutler 04 - Midnight Whispers

see the ghostly white bone. Her neck muscles strained, causing ripples to appear along the sides of her neck, and her lips stretched thin and taut, revealing her clenched gray teeth beneath.
    "Are you happy you caused all this turmoil? Are you happy you had us all frantic and worried and crazy with concern? Are you?" she demanded, her voice as shrill as the screams of frightened terns.
    "Betty Ann," Philip began, "let's . . ." She pivoted and threw him a look of rage that made his mouth snap shut.
    "Don't you start telling me to calm down, Philip Cutler," she said, wagging her small fist in his face. "Don't you try to defend her. I'm the one sitting here waiting, not knowing everything that's happening. I'm the one left in the dark. I've got to hear it from help, from servants sent to give me messages as if I were some sort of second-class citizen."
    "Now Betty Ann, no one meant to leave you out. It was just that I had to act fast with Jefferson very sick and all . . ."
    "Look at what you've done!" she screamed at me. "Your brother nearly died!"
    My lips began to tremble. I folded my arms under my breasts and stared at the floor while she ranted and raved.
    "We have all this grief, all this tragedy, one thing after another. Everyone's trying to deal with it, to make the best of things, to restore a bit of normalcy to our shattered lives and you . . . you rotten and spoiled . . ."
    "I am not rotten and spoiled!" I shot back, my spine straightening into a steel rod. "And whose life was shattered? Certainly not yours!"
    "Uh huh," she said, shaking her head. "Uh huh." She smiled coldly. It was a sickly, small smile around her lips. "I didn't think I would find you remorseful. I didn't think the pain you put us through would make any difference to you. You think only of yourself." The smile faded quickly. "Well, you're under our supervision. We're responsible for you and for how you behave. You've done a very bad thing and you must be punished."
    She straightened up to face me, her eyes fixed on mine.
    "You are confined to your room until further notice. You may come down only for meals and then you march right back up there, you hear me.
    You will receive no phone calls nor make any, nor will you be permitted any visitors. And let me warn you, young lady," she said, stepping closer and sticking her long, bony forefinger at me, "don't even think of violating any of my rules anymore.
    "Go on upstairs. Go on!" she ordered, pointing to the stairway. I looked at Uncle Philip, who seemed subdued by her outburst. Then I charged away from both of them and pounded my way up the stairs. As I hurried to my room, I saw the door to what was Jefferson's and now Richard's room, too, open. He peered out at me, his face full of self-satisfaction.
    "What are you looking at?" I snapped.
    He kept his smile, but he closed the door.
    I burst into my room and stood fuming for a few moments. How dare she talk to me like that? I thought. I should have told her the truth. I should have told her why I ran away. It would have left her so flabbergasted, she wouldn't be able to speak for days. And when she did speak, she would stutter. I felt good knowing I could smash her with the truth any time I saw fit. But once my fury subsided, I realized that announcing what Uncle Philip had done to me was not the easiest thing to do. It would hurt me as well. It was a double-edged sword, just like most tools of revenge.
    No, it was better to ignore her, too, I thought, to pretend she didn't exist, to pretend none of them existed. I would tolerate them until Jefferson was well and then, I would think of something else to do. I had no other choice.
    In many ways it was good to be home, to be in my own room again and to see the stuffed animals Mommy and Daddy had given me. It was wonderful to smell my own linen and use my brush while sitting at my vanity table. My room was filled with good memories, too, and they were all memories that reminded me of times with Mommy and with Daddy.
    I was exhausted. Now that I had stopped moving, now that I was settled in my room again, the events of the past twenty-four hours plowed over me. All the emotions, the tensions, the horror and the hardship came rushing back at me, drowning me in a sea of weariness, draining me of whatever iota of energy remained in my body.
    I began to undress for bed, but when I went to my closet to hang up my clothes, I was greeted with another welcome-home surprise. My wonderful Sweet Sixteen