At age five, she was taken from her family. At age eight, she formed a new family. At age sixteen, she returns to her old one.
Eloise Leroy is the only daughter in her large French family. She was kidnapped before she could ever truly know them, and...
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The girls are here. That makes me happy. That means no one is upstairs. And if I'm down here it means I'm not upstairs, either, which as selfish as it is to say, I'm grateful for that, too.
"Eloise?" Naomi says. I turn my head to her, but can't move anything else. "I'm so happy you're awake. I've missed you."
I smile. "I've missed you, too. How long this time?"
"A while. It was dark when he threw you down here, and it's been light already. It's dark again."
"Oh, okay."
And I lay here. None of us talk or say anything. Annabelle doesn't talk at all. She's young, and the newest, so she's still getting used to the feeling of being hurt all the time. Naomi lays next to me and holds my hand. Serenity is asleep, and so is Cora.
I listen to the sound of our breathing. None of it is even. Everything is shaky. That sound has always unnerved me. It reminds me of Daniella.
"Don't think about it," Naomi says, reading my thoughts, but that only means she was thinking about her, too.
She died long before any of the younger girls got here. I think Cora may remember her, but she was still new at the time. I remember being happy I wasn't the newest anymore. Daniella was eight, and as the oldest, she got taken upstairs the most. She was already unconscious when Lewis threw her down to us.
Just like I was.
We laid her down and made sure she woke up comfortably, but she never woke up. Naomi and I sat by her, always checking on her to see if her eyes had opened. The room was silent, we listened to our unsteady breaths.
Eventually, hers stopped.
That was the only time we have ever screamed down here. We cried for Lewis or one of his friends. She wasn't moving, wasn't making any noise. And that seemed strange. We didn't realize what had happened.
"She's dead," one of Lewis's friends said. Carl, his name is. He said it bluntly, like he couldn't believe it, not like he was trying to scare us.
I tune in to the room. Everyone is still making noise. I count the breaths. Me and Naomi. Two. Annabelle's tears in the corner. Three. Cora's labored breaths. Four. Serenity's tiny ones. Five.
I sit up and find a shirt on my lap. The one Rocco gave me. I pull it on, wanting to feel warm again and not caring if it gets covered in blood. It brings me instant satisfaction.
"Where'd that come from?" Naomi asks.
"The guy from yesterday."
I'm about to tell her more when we both freeze. We hear feet getting closer, stomping on the ground right above the stairs. They must be pretty loud. The house is big, so for us to hear their yells and footsteps means they're close.
