Chapter 19 Edith's Diary
Caroline did not know how long she waited.
Eventually, the guard returned, holding her phone.
Alexander must have decided to let her live after all. He was no longer blocking her contact with the outside world.
Caroline gripped the cold metal casing and dialed Lina's number, one digit at a time.
Finally, the ringtone rang in her ear.
Five rings. Six. Then someone picked up.
"Hello? Dr. Neville?" Lina's voice carried a note of worry.
"Lina. It's me." Caroline's voice came out hoarse.
There was a pause on the other end, followed by a sharp intake of breath.
"Are you okay? Where are you? You haven't shown up in days. I thought—"
"I'm fine." Caroline cut her off.
Even as she said it, the words felt absurd.
But it was all she could manage.
"I just… need a favor."
"Anything! Whatever you need!" Lina did not hesitate.
"In the clinic's break room, there's a cabinet. Bottom shelf. There's a backup medical kit inside." Caroline closed her eyes.
"It has iodine, gauze, bandages. Some painkillers and antibiotics. Can you bring it to me? Just leave it with the security guard downstairs. Tell him… it's for me."
"A medical kit? Are you hurt? Is it serious? Should I take you to the hospital? I can—"
"No." Caroline interrupted again. "It's just… a small wound. It got infected. I need to take care of it. Don't come up, Lina. Just leave it downstairs. Please."
She could not bear for Lina to see her like this.
Worse, she could not handle the concern, the questions. That kind of care would be like sunlight flooding into a locked cell, forcing her to confront how broken she truly was. And then she would fall apart completely.
"But—" Lina started.
"Please, Lina." Caroline's voice dropped. "Just this once. Don't ask. And don't come see me."
Silence on the other end.
Finally, Lina spoke, her voice thick with tears. "Okay. I'll get it right now and bring it over. Doctor, please take care of yourself. I'm… I'm here if you need me."
"Thank you." Caroline forced the words out, as if they took every ounce of strength she had left, and hung up.
The guard glanced at her but said nothing.
Caroline leaned against the wall and sat there, motionless, waiting.
She did not know how much time passed. Eventually, the guard got a call from downstairs, left briefly, and returned carrying a white medical kit stamped with the clinic's logo. He set it down at her feet.
"From Lina," he said curtly, then returned to his post by the door.
Caroline's hands shook as she opened the kit.
She picked up the iodine and a cotton swab, intending to clean the wound on her arm that had started bleeding again after her earlier struggle.
Most of the old wounds had nearly healed. But over the past few days, consumed by fear, she had found herself picking at the scabs until fresh blood welled up.
Only pain could keep her grounded.
But her fingers trembled so badly she could not hold the swab steady.
She tried several times. Failed every time.
After a long silence, she gave up. She clutched the medical kit and retreated to her room.
The guard turned on the hallway light. A dim yellow glow seeped under the door.
The power in her room had been restored, but Caroline did not want to turn on the lights.
She sat in the darkness until her legs went numb and lost all feeling.
Late that night, Celeste came home.
The click of high heels echoed closer, accompanied by her saccharine voice as she spoke to someone on the phone.
The sound paused outside Caroline's door. She could almost picture Celeste stopping, glancing inside with the smug satisfaction of a victor.
Then the footsteps continued toward the bedroom and faded away.
The world fell silent again, leaving only Caroline's erratic heartbeat.
In the early hours of the morning, Caroline finally pulled herself out of the numbness.
Extreme thirst and the gnawing ache in her stomach reminded her that she was still alive. This body still needed basic sustenance.
She crawled toward the door, where a maid had left stale bread and half a glass of water earlier.
She picked up the glass and took small sips.
The cold water slid down her cracked throat, easing the burning sensation just slightly.
The bread was hard and difficult to swallow. She broke it into small pieces, washing them down with water, chewing mechanically.
After finishing the meager meal, she felt a faint return of strength.
Her gaze drifted back to the medical kit.
She would not let Lina's kindness go to waste.
At the very least, she needed to treat her wounds.
She carried the kit to the bed and finally flipped the light switch on the wall.
Once her eyes adjusted, she began clumsily cleaning her injuries.
Her hands still shook, but she managed.
When she finished, exhaustion overwhelmed her. She collapsed onto the bed, her consciousness slipping away again.
The second day. The third.
Time blurred into a haze of repetition.
The guard no longer stopped her from leaving the room, but she seemed to have lost the will to go anywhere.
On the fourth afternoon, the maid brought lunch as usual.
A bowl of bland vegetable soup and two slices of bread.
As she set down the tray, her movements were slightly careless. She accidentally knocked over a vase that had been sitting on the nightstand as decoration.
The vase tipped onto the carpet. It did not break, but the dried flowers and small pebbles inside spilled out.
The maid frowned, muttered something under her breath, and bent down to pick them up.
Caroline glanced over instinctively.
Withered petals scattered across the tabletop. A few decorative pebbles rolled onto the floor.
From the hollow at the bottom of the vase, previously hidden by the stones, something slid out—a palm-sized rectangular object wrapped tightly in waterproof wax paper.
The thing looked old. The edges of the wax paper had yellowed with age.
The maid noticed it too. She picked up the vase first, then grabbed the wax paper package, weighing it in her hand. She seemed puzzled about why something like this would be hidden inside a vase.
She did not think much of it. Probably assumed it was just some forgotten junk. She tossed the package into the tray along with the dried flowers and pebbles, intending to throw it all away.
"Wait." Caroline's voice broke the silence.
The maid froze and looked up at her.
Caroline's eyes were locked on the wax paper package. For some reason, her heart gave a violent lurch.
"That…" She pointed at the package. "Can I see it?"
The maid looked at her suspiciously, then glanced down at the unremarkable bundle in her hand. Apparently deciding it posed no threat, she fished it out of the trash and handed it over.
Caroline took the package.
It had some weight to it. The paper felt stiff and brittle.
She carefully peeled away the wax paper, which had grown fragile with age.
Inside was a hardcover notebook.
Small. About a quarter the size of her palm.
The cover was pale pink, the edges slightly worn, printed with outdated cartoon designs.
It looked like something a teenage girl might have owned years ago.
Caroline's hands began to shake uncontrollably.
She recognized that cover.
Many years ago, for Edith's fourteenth birthday, she had given her sister a gift—a mini diary with a lock.
Edith had been thrilled. She had hugged Caroline and spun her around, saying it was the best present she had ever received. She promised to write all her little secrets inside.
After that, Edith had developed a habit of keeping a diary.
But up until the accident, Caroline had never seen this particular notebook again.
She had assumed it was too small and Edith had lost it.
Or maybe it had been too inconvenient to write in, so it had been forgotten somewhere.
But why was it here?
Her hands trembled as she opened the first page.
Familiar handwriting leapt out at her, playful and neat. The letters were smaller than usual but still clean and clear.
It read: [To the most adorable Edith in the world: May every day of yours be filled with sunshine and rainbows. Love, your sister, Caroline.]
She had written that blessing herself, all those years ago.
She turned the pages, each one filled with Edith's teenage thoughts and secrets.