"Did we do something last night?" I ask after we've been on the road for ten minutes in silence. My hands are clutching my bag strap tightly while I sit upright on the passenger seat, my body tensing all over.

Damien turns his head and glances down at my whole figure before fixing his gaze back on the street. "What do you mean?"

"I mean" — my hands are gripping the straps tighter as my nails are digging into my palm — "we slept in the same bed, and you weren't wearing a shirt. Did we...do something more than sleeping?" My voice is shaking from the guilt I didn't commit.

Damien smiles. "If we did, you would've known it, Gretta." His smile disappears when he sees the frown on my face. He sighs and shakes his head. "So, no. We didn't have sex."

I wince at his last word but release a breath I've been holding at the same time. "Thank God."

"We just kissed. That's it."

"Oh, God." I close my eyes and Lola's face appears in my head. What will I say to her? What was I thinking when I seduced her boyfriend like that? No, it wasn't me. At least, it wasn't me doing it intentionally, not if I was in the right mind. I have never even seen Damien that way. He's Lola's boyfriend for God's sake.

The car pulls over in front of a house I've never seen before. It's an old building, poorly maintained, and I wonder if someone even lives there. The thought of Damien bringing me to an abandoned house instead of Mary's house pops up in my mind. But what for? I skim the house's surroundings. Judging from the freshly mowed lawn and the laundry hanging on the ropes in the backyard, people must live here.

Is this where Mary lives? It's interesting that she and Lola get along together. Lola is always careful to choose her friends. Keeping her social circle in the upper class will save her some drama from poorer people who are trying to take advantage of her. That's also what she always tells me to do.

"Hey, Gretta." Damien's voice prompts me to crane my neck to look at him. He frowns as if he's weighing what he's going to say next. "I like you, and I will never do things you don't want to do. I'm hoping you know it by now."

Even though it's still hard for me to make sense of his line, I nod at him. "Thank you."

"It hit me hard that you've been so afraid of me since you woke up this morning. I just want to help you."

...to help you...His words echo in my ears but his masculine tone shifts into a soft and alluring voice I've heard before. "Let the boy help you."

A shiver runs down my spine. The faceless angel from last night's dream floats back into my mind. Was it talking about Damien? Was it trying to tell me what would happen and what I should do? Is it my guardian angel? Should I trust Damien then?

Heavy footsteps from the sidewalk are approaching as a girl with a pale and diamond-shaped face is walking toward us. Mary Campbell. Unlike last night at my family dinner, I mean three nights ago, she now looks rather uneasy. She knocks on Damien's window while checking our surroundings repeatedly.

"I think you should park somewhere else, Damien. I don't want people to see your car and bring it up to my mom later. Hurry! We don't have so much time." She shifts her gaze to me. "Come, Gretta. I made the recording and you should hear it first. Maybe you want me to add something."

I jump out of the car after Damien nods at me. "Go inside with Mary. I'll be right back," he says before driving his brown jeep away, making me wish he didn't have to leave me alone with Mary.

The girl beckons me, and I follow her. Surprisingly, she doesn't go to the front porch. She takes a gravel path that leads to the backyard instead. We pass the washing lines and a glasshouse that must have been abandoned for a while. Mary walks across her backyard, heading to the blue shed under a big oak tree. It stands out because it appears to be recently built among other parts of this property.

Once she opens the door, I learn that it's more a hobby room than a place to keep the gardening equipment. An old mower and a big plastic box full of lawn tools sit in the corner of the room, while the rest of the space is packed with Mary's painting equipment. There is an old sofa with a folded-up blanket and a pillow by the window. Does Mary sleep here?

"What I said in the recording is exactly what I told you yesterday, but more in a chronological way," Mary says as she opens the drawer of her working desk and takes out a cassette. "I started with how I agreed to take their proposal. It was nothing against you, I promise. I didn't even know you back then. I...we just needed the money."

"Are you sure my mother and Lola are behind this?" I ask. I've been having this inner debate in my head, about who to trust, and I just can't stop myself from asking the question.

Mary frowns, looking confused. "You know the whole story, don't you? Mrs. Adelson is a woman with a lot of agendas, Gretta. You said it yourself yesterday that you didn't trust her from the very start, and I would trust my gut feeling if I were you."

"But maybe...there is something she doesn't tell you?" I ask, trying to find a hole in this perfectly crafted theory, yet my layers of faith in my family are beginning to crumble. "Like a bigger plan that Mother might pursue a better outcome?"

Mary frowns deeper as she turns around and leans on her desk. "What bigger plan? Wanting to screw you over is their biggest plan right now. They even used your childhood trauma to play with your sanity, so that they can prove how crazy you are and kick you out from the inheritance list."

My heartbeat leaps at Mary's last line. "M-my childhood trauma?"

"Yes. It has something to do with you witnessing your own mom's death, in the woods, wearing a white dress and covered with blood. What you saw in the woods a few days ago was me playing the role of your late mom."

My body shakes all over. The random scenes of my teddy bear covered in blood that was dripping on my bare feet, the bloody knife on the floor of the forest, my small body being yanked away and carried back to the house...but none of them about my late mother. I can't find her in my memory at all.

"They knew what happened because Lydia was there with you in the forest. She saw what happened, and that's why she's been staying with you all these years, to make sure you've been taken care of. But she's been under Mrs. Adelson's oppression, too." Mary looks down at the cassette in her hand. "I just don't want to fall into the same situation with her. I need to do something before I leave this island."

"I–" I pause, my mouth hanging open, not knowing what I'm going to say next. "Maybe–"

"Sssh!" Mary put her forefinger over her lips. "Someone is coming." She quickly walks to the window to check.

"It must be Damien." Among all people in the world, he's the person I expect the most right now.

"Shit! It's not him. Go hide behind those boxes." Mary whisper-shouts while peeking through the cream curtain. "Hurry, Gretta!"

As if being slapped awake, I jump and dash towards the pile of carton boxes in the corner of the room. My wobbling legs bail on me once I reach the stack, and I fall to the floor even though I haven't fully hidden behind the boxes. The footsteps are now approaching the shed door while Mary is settling down on her chair, pretending to paint. With the remaining power in me, I crawl into my hiding place. My head is heavy and my heart is thumping furiously against my chest.

"Here you are!" says a familiar voice, making me tremble on my spot. "I've been ringing your door, but no one was there."

"Oh, hey!" Mary replies, a little too friendly. "Yeah, Mom is meeting Hilda and I've been here all morning. What's up, Lol? Why did you show up this early?"

"I couldn't reach you through your work phone yesterday. And your home line has been giving a busy tone, too. Is it broken or something?"

"Oh, yeah. It's broken, yeah."

"Fix it. You need to be within reach at any time now."

Other footsteps close in on the shed door.

"Oh, hi, Mrs. Adelson." Mary's voice slightly quivers.

"Gretta is missing, and someone has informed me that they saw the girl here yesterday afternoon. Is that true?" asks my mother. I used to admire her authoritative voice because it reflected confidence, power, and protection, but now, it gives me shivers.

"What?" Mary says. "That's the most absurd thing to say. I've had no idea Gretta was missing until now."

The clicking sound of my mother's high heels resonates across the room. "You're not telling lies, are you?"

"N-no, of course not! Whoever told you must have mistaken my mom's friend who is visiting us now for Gretta. Gretta and I don't really know each other."

"If I find out you're trying to screw up with our plans, you won't get away easily with this," my mother says, sounding like a stranger to me. "I don't care if that lunatic girl is stranded in the forest and eaten by wolves right now. But you" —I hear a shuffling sound and the chair legs squeaking against the wooden floor— "never open your mouth about what you did three days ago."

"I won't say a word," Mary replies.

"And you need to tell me now if you have anything to do with Gretta's disappearance."

"N-no, I don't know anything about it, Mrs. Adelson."

"We've been looking for her everywhere since yesterday. We'd better find her today before my husband comes back from his business trip."

"Maybe she's at her friend's place?" Mary asks.

"What friends? That girl has no friends; no one wants to be her friend. She's just a burden for all of us."

My mother's words are like bullets planted on my flesh, making me lose my ability to breathe from the shock. Then my brain starts to register the pain. Before I know it, I break into tears.

The room is now quiet except for my growing sobs. I clasp my hands over my mouth, preventing any sound from escaping my lips. I know I need to stop crying now or they will notice my presence in this room. But it's too late. A hand wraps around my arm and yanks me up from the floor. In the next second, I'm face to face with the woman who I respect, yet breaks my heart into pieces.