sensibilities to draw from those around you.

"That is what I have always tried to do.' Because all of us had become so close, we

shared our most painful memories as well as our

happiest. Cinnamon's sense of isolation from her peers

was something all of us had felt at one time or

another. Ice's estrangement from her mother, her pain

and difficulty in expressing herself struck a

sympathetic note, especially with Rose, whose mother

had literally deserted her for a long time. And my

oppressive Grandad, my loss of Uncle Peter, made me

timid and afraid of stepping out into the world. Who could possibly be more different from her

peers than Gerta? How difficult it was for her to really

communicate with anyone. Look how estranged she

was from her own mother. How terrified she was of the world outside? In one way or another, we were all

Gerta.

The door creaked on its hinges as if it wanted to

warn Ms. Fairchild that it was being violated. No

matter how slowly Cinnamon pulled it open, it

groaned. We held our breaths and listened for any

sound of her footsteps. Cinnamon opened it a little

farther, and we were all able to slip in, closing it as

softly as we could behind us.

We all looked at one another. No one had to say

it.

Now, it was too late to turn back.

13 Gerta's Story

When we closed the door behind us and turned, we all stopped and stared in awe. The long, dark hallway was dimly lit by black candles in ivory holders mounted on the walls. Light dripped down in a waxy pool over the tiled floor. The candles flickered as though they'd been left by someone hurrying past, fleeing from discovery, diving into the darkness like a toad seeking the cover of murky water. All was still, but from somewhere above us, we could hear muffled voices. They sounded like words trapped in the building's ancient pipes, words spoken ages ago by others as young as we were and just as afraid. Of course, we assumed it was Gerta playing her records.

"Why is the hallway like this?" Rose was the first to ask. "I feel like I'm descending into a cavern or something."

"How strange," I said. "Obviously. Gerta is not the only one living in her own private world," Cinnamon muttered.

"I don't think we should go any farther." Ice said. The chill in her voice made my o

Tags: V.C. Andrews Shooting Stars Horror
Source: readsnovelonline.net