The Doll Garden

Six

The moon was out. The hour hand on the clock had just landed at one. My little round lamp was lit, and there wasn't a soul or a sound in the hallway. Everyone had packed it up and called it a night a little over thirty minutes ago. I was left to my own privacy.

I backed away into my room again, closing the door with a soft thud. My eyes were focused on the open jewelry box as I sat with my legs crossed in the middle of my bed. The flame from my lavender scented candle on my desk was burning into hot wax.

Between my fingertips was another note—the note that was next in line after the first I'd read. "June 5th, 1997..." The date slid off my tongue just as easily as tingles shot through my legs. I began reading the note.

Today, I told Marcus. I expected the worst. After all, we'd only been together for seven months. However, he didn't kick us to the curb like I thought he would. Instead, he was overjoyed with happiness.

Marcus. That was my father's name.

I shook the thought and continued reading.

Perhaps I was overthinking the entire situation. Rightfully so, but still. He's asked me to move into his mansion with him, too. I said yes. This is my third day living on the estate. I have a good feeling about all of this.

Love,

Marisol

I sighed and flicked the note to the side. "A good feeling, huh? What a cruel turn of events."

Again, Marisol's note didn't give me much. They were all dated before me, Mirabelle, or Manuel were born. And still, it remained just a piece of paper scribbled with writing. But we were well into ten days since the bodies were found and I was craving more answers.

Were all of her notes this straightforward and uneventful? I might've been acting too hasty. This was only the second note I had opened since running into Isaiah. While it still wasn't making much sense, I'd barely gotten through half of the notes in the pile.

"Let's just open another one then," I mumbled and reached into the box for the next note, but something caused me to stop. Call it a moment of clarity. "What am I even doing? This is wrong, Jenna..." I breathed out a soft laugh. I slowly removed my hand from the box and fit the top back into place above it. My jaw was clenched, my fingers curling around the edges of the top.

Shit. I was so fucked.

My first reaction should have been to hand the jewelry box over to the police as soon as I'd seen what was inside. I shouldn't have touched it or looked inside at all, as much as I hated to admit it. But her ... that damn ghost or whatever she was. She'd been taunting me.

If that wasn't enough to have me on edge, I knew the police would have had more of a reason to charge him. This wasn't exactly the kind of evidence that worked in his favor. What if—for a slight second—he was actually innocent? Would that have mattered? I hated that I still cared to some extent. Part of me would always want to believe my father was innocent.

My eyes grazed over the jewelry box once more before I pried them away. I removed my hands from the top and curled them at my sides instead. It helped me fight the temptation to scratch the spot on my wrist. I could hear Manuel scolding me again, too.

"Relax. Deep breaths and relax." I needed to speak with my therapist again soon. I couldn't go on in this house like this.

It wasn't like I had stolen police property anyway. Sure, the jewelry box may have been considered evidence, but it went unfound when police searched the garden. I found it. So, they didn't belong to the police just yet. They didn't belong to me either, though. Nor did they belong to my father.