Something had her attention. Now I could see her reflection in the dresser mirror. She was looking my way. Startled, almost scared appearing. Inch by slow inch she ambled toward my bed. In her hand she carried my silver hand mirror, and from time to time she glanced at her own reflection, as if fascinated by the pretty girl in the glass—and no wonder. When she held her head high and threw back that tangled mop of hair, she was breathtakingly lovely.

I found my voice again, weak and trembling. “Billie’s cart, Sylvia … the little red cart—find that cart. Put me on it.”

Slowly, slowly, she came to gaze with unfocused eyes into my face. Then she looked in the hand mirror. I could tell what she must be seeing. She looked more like me now than I must look like myself.

“Please … Sylvia … help me,” I whispered.

The door opened. My heart almost stopped beating. Vera was back so quickly. What had gone wrong? Then I saw her reason for coming back. She held a plastic bag full of cookies. The very kind of cookies that Sylvia had such a passion for.

“Look, Sylvia,” charmed Vera in her sweetest voice. “Pretty Sylvia hasn’t had a treat like this in years and years, has she? Mean Audrina won’t let you eat cookies, but nice Vera will. Come, pretty Sylvia, eat your cookies like a good girl and I’ll bring you more tomorrow. See where your half-sister puts your cookies … under the bed.”

What was she up to?

In another few moments Vera was on her feet, picking up her purse, which was really my purse, and, softly chuckling to herself, she headed once more for the door.

“Goodbye, Audrina, goodbye. When you get to heaven say hello to your mother for me. If my mother is there, ignore her. Dying won’t hurt much. Your food supply will stop, that’s all. The machine functioning for your kidneys will shut off… it won’t hurt. Maybe when the respirator stops you’ll just stop breathing… it’s hard to tell, but you can’t last long. All that grieving for Billie helped run down your health long before your fall. And did you know I contributed a little drug to your tea? Just a little to keep you in a constant apathetic state …”

Bang! She slammed the door.

No sooner had she closed the door than Sylvia was on her knees and under the bed. When next I saw her she was munching on a handful of cookies—and in her free hand was the single plug that connected all my machines to the outlet. Good God! Vera must have fastened the cookies to the plug with the picture wire I saw dangling from Sylvia’s hand. Sylvia plucked the wire from the cookies, threw it down, then stuffed her mouth again. I felt strange, really strange. Sylvia was growing fuzzy, fuzzier …

I was dying!

Do you want me to die, Sylvia? Desperate now, I concentrated every last bit of will power I had on controlling her. Determined to live, I fought the drowsiness that tried to take me down, down.

As if consolidating her strength, trying to focus her eyes and keep them that way, my younger sister touched the tear that slipped from my right eye. “Aud … dreeen … naaa …?”

She loved me. The bread cast upon the waters of Sylvia was coming back a thousandfold. “Oh, Sylvia, quickly.” Vera could come home sooner than I think. And Sylvia was so slow …

Excruciatingly slow. It seemed like hours passed before Sylvia came back with Billie’s little red cart that had splintered badly when it had clattered down the front stairs. “Baaa … ad Vera …” mumbled Sylvia, tugging on my arm and trying to lift me off the bed. “Baa … ad Vera …”

Panting, gasping, I managed to make a small sound that sounded like, “Yes,” and then I willed Sylvia to try to pick me up. Certainly I couldn’t weigh much. But her strength was so minimal that she couldn’t manage to do more than tug and pull on one arm and one leg. She succeeded in pulling me off the bed so that I landed on the thick piling of the soft carpet. The jolt sent rippling waves of shock throughout my body. Ripples th

at reached every nerve ending.

“Aud … dreeen … na …”

“Yes, Audrina wants you … take her away … Down the hall to a safe place.”

I was difficult for her to manage. When she had my buttocks on the cart, my head and upper body were off, and my legs dragged. Sylvia studied me with a puzzled look. Then she leaned to shove up my knees, and since that seemed to work, she gave a grunt of pride and with struggling efforts pushed me into an upright position. But when she let go, I fell sideways. Again she shoved me back on the cart, then looked around.

I slumped over on my pulled-up knees and tried to latch my fingers together to keep my legs in position. My head lolled heavily, jerkily, when I wanted to lift it. Every small movement I made was so difficult, so painful that I wanted to scream with the agony of doing what used to come so easily. Desperation made me frantic, yet it lent me an unexpected spurt of strength. I managed to lock my arms together with my fingers in such a way that I kept my legs from straightening out. I was like a crudely wrapped package. Wringing wet with perspiration, I waited for Sylvia to begin pushing me out of the room.

“Syl… vee … ah, Aud … dreen … na,” she happily murmured as she got down on her hands and knees and began to shove. Fortunately she’d left the door open when she came back with the cart. Talking all the time in her mumbling way about me being her baby now, she mentioned again that Vera was baaa … ad.

The grandfather clocks in the lower hall began to chime in all their myriad voices. The clocks on the mantles joined in, the clocks on the tables, dressers and desks tolled the hour of three. Someone had finally synchronized all our clocks.

The thick carpeting down the halls, meant to soundproof and give privacy, made it very difficult for Sylvia to shove me along. The little wheels dug deeply into the pile and resisted. No wonder Billie had asked Papa to have the carpet taken up when she used the corridors. But now it was back to hinder my escape. Where could Sylvia put me?

Tediously Sylvia shoved, panting and heaving and talking gibberish. She stopped to rest often, to take her prisms from the huge pockets of her loose, shiftlike garment.

“Aud … dreeen … na. Sweet Aud … dreen … na.”

Weakly I turned my head. I moved spastically. I managed to look over my shoulder to see Sylvia’s rapt expression of pleasure. She was helping me, and happy to be of use. Her eyes were glowing with joy. To see her like that flooded me with strength enough to manage a few more halting words. “You … said … my name … just … right.”

“Aud … dreeen … na.” She beamed at me and wanted to stop and play, or talk.

“Hide me …” I managed to whisper before I half fainted.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Audrina Horror
Source: readsnovelonline.net