The Companion by Katie Alender
English | 2020 | Horror | ePUB | 2.4 MB
The other orphans say Margot is lucky.
Lucky to survive the horrible accident that killed her family.
Lucky to have her own room because she wakes up screaming every night.
And finally, lucky to be chosen by a prestigious family to live at their remote country estate.
But it wasn’t luck that made the Suttons rescue Margot from her bleak existence at the group home. Margot was handpicked to be a companion to their silent, mysterious daughter, Agatha. At first, helping with Agatha-and getting to know her handsome older brother-seems much better than the group home. But soon, the isolated, gothic house begins playing tricks on Margot’s mind, making her question everything she believes about the Suttons . . . and herself.
Margot’s bad dreams may have stopped when she came to live with Agatha – but the real nightmare has just begun.
MY TOOTHBRUSH WAS slime green, and the bristles, after only six weeks of use, were beginning to fray and spread outward. They also came unattached and got stuck between my teeth when I brushed, which I did, twice a day, for the full two minutes that my mother would have insisted upon had she been around to do so. The end of the toothbrush’s handle tapered to a sporty point, and the gold-embossed brand name, WALLYTEETH, was chipping quietly away. It was as if someone at the Wallyteeth factory had said, We want it to look like a toothbrush, but basically it should suck.
And it did. But what really bothered me was that someone else’s hair was taped to it.
The day I’d arrived at Palmer House, a woman named Ms. O’Neil, who had long, curly auburn hair (as I was later reminded twice a day for two minutes at a time), gave me a short welcome speech, followed by a tour. She had a stack of supplies waiting for me on her beat-up wooden desk, including a pair of pajamas still on their plastic hanger, a thin graying bath towel and washcloth, the green toothbrush, and a small blue stuffed bunny.
“The pajamas and the rabbit are donations,” she said, almost an apology. “You don’t have to keep them if you don’t want them. I’m sure once your things arrive, you’ll want to wear your own clothes, but that may be a few days—”
“No, I don’t have anything,” I said.
“Like I said, it may be a few days before it gets here,” she said, with the unpleasant smile of someone who was being very patient in the face of stupidity. “But your caseworker will arrange to ship everything—”
“No,” I said. “There’s nothing to ship. They thought I was going to die, so they donated everything.”
Blink. Blink-blink. The smile never left her face. Her silence seemed like a call for more information.