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By
that
evening
,
great
changes
had
taken
place
in
the
Goldman
household
.
Zelda
was
gone
.
Her
room
had
been
cleaned
and
fumigated
.
All
of
the
furniture
was
gone
.
The
room
was
a
bare
box
.
Later
--
much
later
--
it
had
become
Dory
Goldman
's
sewing
room
.
The
first
of
the
nightmares
had
come
to
Rachel
that
night
,
and
when
Rachel
woke
up
at
two
o'clock
in
the
morning
,
screaming
for
her
mother
,
she
had
been
horrified
to
discover
that
she
could
barely
get
out
of
bed
.
Her
back
was
in
agony
.
She
had
strained
it
moving
Zelda
.
In
her
spurt
of
adrenaline-powered
strength
,
she
had
,
after
all
,
lifted
Zelda
with
enough
force
to
pull
her
own
blouse
apart
.
That
she
had
strained
herself
trying
to
keep
Zelda
from
choking
was
simple
,
obvious
,
elementary-my-dear
Watson
.
To
everyone
,
that
was
,
except
Rachel
herself
.
Rachel
had
been
sure
that
this
was
Zelda
's
revenge
from
beyond
the
grave
.
Zelda
knew
that
Rachel
was
glad
she
was
dead
;
Zelda
knew
that
when
Rachel
burst
from
the
house
telling
all
and
sundry
Zelda
's
dead
,
Zelda
's
dead
at
the
top
of
her
voice
,
she
had
been
laughing
,
not
screaming
;
Zelda
knew
she
had
been
murdered
and
so
had
given
Rachel
spinal
meningitis
,
and
soon
Rachel
's
back
would
start
to
twist
and
change
and
she
too
would
have
to
lie
in
bed
,
slowly
but
surely
turning
into
a
monster
,
her
hands
hooking
into
claws
.
After
a
while
she
would
begin
screaming
with
the
pain
,
as
Zelda
had
done
,
and
then
she
would
start
wetting
the
bed
,
and
finally
she
would
choke
to
death
on
her
own
tongue
.
It
was
Zelda
's
revenge
.
No
one
could
talk
Rachel
out
of
this
belief
--
not
her
mother
,
her
father
,
or
Dr.
Murray
,
who
diagnosed
a
mild
backsprain
and
then
told
Rachel
brusquely
(
cruelly
,
some
--
Louis
,
for
instance
--
would
have
said
)
to
stop
behaving
so
badly
.
She
ought
to
remember
that
her
sister
had
just
died
,
Dr.
Murray
told
her
;
her
parents
were
prostate
with
grief
and
this
was
not
the
time
for
Rachel
to
make
a
childish
play
for
attention
.
Only
the
slowly
abating
pain
had
been
able
to
convince
her
that
she
was
neither
the
victim
of
Zelda
's
supernatural
vengeance
nor
God
's
just
punishment
of
the
wicked
.
For
months
(
or
so
she
told
Louis
;
it
had
actually
been
years
,
eight
of
them
)
afterward
she
would
awaken
from
nightmares
in
which
her
sister
died
over
and
over
again
,
and
in
the
dark
Rachel
's
hands
would
fly
to
her
back
to
make
sure
it
was
all
right
.
In
the
frightful
aftermath
of
these
dreams
she
often
thought
that
the
closet
door
would
bang
open
and
Zelda
would
lurch
out
,
blue
and
twisted
,
her
eyes
rolled
up
to
shiny
whites
,
her
black
tongue
puffing
out
through
her
lips
,
her
hands
hooked
into
claws
to
murder
the
murderer
cowering
in
her
bed
with
her
hands
jammed
into
the
small
of
her
back
...
She
had
not
attended
Zelda
's
funeral
or
any
funeral
since
.
"
If
you
'd
told
me
this
before
,
"
Louis
said
,
"
it
would
have
explained
a
hell
of
a
lot
.
"
"
Lou
,
I
could
n't
,
"
she
said
simply
.
She
sounded
very
sleepy
now
.
"
Since
then
I
've
been
...
I
guess
a
little
phobic
on
the
subject
.
"
