The Last Writer Adriane Leigh (story reading TXT) 📖

My mind raced to piece together her words. I thought of the pictures of Usher, the medical files and red Xs over some of the children’s faces. Nothing seemed familiar, nothing rang bells.

My brain began to slow-pound as I struggled to find the possibilities.

Yarrow groaned at my feet, silvery wisps of his hair a halo spread around his head. I focused on his frail features, the straight Roman nose and hawk-like gaze. From the beginning, I’d thought that Yara and Yarrow looked nothing like twins, and yet, the fame of their early lives revolved around that singular note.

The vision of Yara brushing her long black hair in the vanity mirror snapped back to me then—a stark contrast to the silvery strands she’d been portrayed with in both movies. I’d originally thought it was a wig or bad dye job, but now...now, the realization that something much worse had happened shook me.

“You’re Zara.”

Yara’s eyes lit with pride. “Finally, you’re paying attention.”

I swallowed the tongue in my throat, true fear tensing my muscles. “W-why?”

“You’re so repetitive, Ryn. I’ve already answered this, I saved her from her own weakness. This world would have eaten her alive.”

“Or maybe it was because you were written out of Lilies in the Cellar, her fame guaranteed and yours nonexistent. Why would the governess pretend you ceased to exist?”

“Mother was good to me, she never ignored me, gave me everything I could want—”

“No, no, you stole that from Yara. She gave those things to Yara. You are an imposter.”

“You think so? Hollywood and The Times would disagree.”

“I don’t care about them. Where is the real Yara, where did you bury her?”

“Her favorite place, where do you think?”

“The cellar?” I guessed.

She shook her head, seemingly amused by the game of verbal cat and mouse.

“The greenhouse?”

“Warmer.”

My fingers twitched, the letter opener calling to me from my back pocket. “The garden?”

“You’re blazing hot.”

“No.” I shook my head, the realization stinging me. “The cherub, the fountain…”

“Ding, ding, ding. There’s nowhere else she would rather be. You can tell yourself that I’m pure evil, Ryn, but I’m here to tell you that evil only exists in the eye of the beholder. Yara was weak and sick and I did her a favor the day I put her out of her misery with Mother’s peace-lily tea.”

“Y-you gave her the same thing you gave Thax?”

“Of course not the same thing, it’s evolved with time and experimentation. I do love using Usher’s natural resources to the best of their ability.”

I slipped my fingers against Thax’s wrist at my side, his heartbeat too faint to feel. I prayed it was still there, but I could be mistaking his for my own, it was so indiscernible. “But how do you know what it does—how it kills? If it even kills or only suppresses the system for a while? How do you know you didn’t bury her alive?”

She laughed like I’d told the cleverest joke. “I guarantee we didn’t. Thax was still too willful, even after he agreed to stay with you, he fought the rules every step of the way. I instructed Yarrow to double his dose of PLt this morning, he had enough to fell an elephant.”

“Is that what you did to the other writers? Killed them, published their stories under your own name?”

“Small minds.” She shook her head. “Thax’s words just weren’t marketable, not like yours. You have so much promise, your fear is so real I can taste it. You’ve inspired me, so many of the writers the last few years were a disappointment, but not you. Even your first submission blew me away, it needed work, don’t get me wrong, but I could see a pearl shining through the mud.”

“Why didn’t you just let Thax leave then?”

“I would have. He stayed for you. Maybe that makes you culpable in his demise.”

“No.” Tears stung but I pushed them away.

“Sure it does. He also asked too many questions, and was too devoted to finding answers instead of art. Curiosity always kills the cat, it just came for your Thax sooner than you anticipated. Use it, be inspired by it, put it on paper and make me feel.”

“You’re insane.”

“Not as insane as the writers that have come through the walls of Usher, expecting unrealistic things. They give up their lives for a chance at literary fame, now who is truly the insane one?”

She was describing me, the hope I carried around like a flame to light my way.

“I see that same spark in you that Mother had—you know her as the governess, but to me she was the woman that raised me. The woman that made me who I am. That’s why I was so drawn to you, Ryn, you remind me of her.”

SIXTEEN

Ryn

“I’m not anything like you or her.”

Yara—the real Zara—smiled. “You never finished the book.”

“The book?”

“My book—not the ones I wrote, the one about my life.”

“Lilies in the Cellar?”

“You never finished it. How can you predict the ending when you give up in the middle of the story?”

“I thought it was all lies.”

“I wish it was all lies. If it was, the governess wouldn’t be buried alongside her daughter, would she?”

“But it’s not her daughter, is it? Her daughter still walks the halls of Usher. I didn’t put it together at first, not until I saw the picture of the governess in one of the medical files. Her name isn’t listed, but I knew it was her. I knew it was her, because she’s you.”

“You’re foolish and stupid and couldn’t be more wrong,” Yara spit.

“Maybe, but I’m right about this. You tried to hide her existence, but you couldn’t hide forever. The woman of many faces failed to hide the one thing that would give her away as the only living heir to the Usher fortune.”

“I told you, money is meaningless to me and fame leaves a rotten aftertaste. I could never have told that to your dear friend Thax, though. He’s had stars in his eyes since