thing I tried to do to you," she said, and then stepped
toward me again, lowering her voice sharply and
narrowing her eyes into hateful slits. "And I'll explain
to him and to everyone who wants or has to know
how you've been so disruptive since you arrived, you
nearly caused a fatal family crisis. I'll force the
Andreas boy to confess to your sexual games in the
art studio and have Gisselle testify to your friendship
with that whore from Storyville." Her eyes widened
and then hardened to rivet on me as she continued. "I'll have people believing you were a teenage
prostitute in the bayou. For all I know, you were." "That's a lie, a dirty, horrible lie," I cried, but
she didn't soften. Her face, the face with the alabaster
complexion and those beautiful eyes, turned into the
cold visage of a statue as she gazed down at me. "Is it?" She smiled again, a small, tight smile
that drew her lips into thin lines. "I already have Dr.
Cheryl's preliminary findings. He thinks you're obsessed with sex and will so testify if I like. And now you've gone and run away from the institution,
embarrassing us even further."
I shook my head, but there was no denying her
vicious determination to overcome my defiance. "I'm going to see Daddy," I said in almost a
whisper. "I'm going to tell him everything."
"Go on." She lunged forward and grabbed my
shoulders to turn me to the stairway. "Go on, you little
Cajun fool. Go tell your Daddy." She pushed me
toward the steps. I threw her an angry look and then
charged up the stairs, my tears flying off my cheeks. When I got to the upstairs landing, I saw the
door to Uncle Jean's room was shut tight, but I had to
get Daddy to see me; I had to get him to let me in. I
approached slowly and knocked and then pressed my
cheek to the door and sobbed.
"Daddy, please . . please, open up and let me in.