My son, look after your sick sister. Dont abandon her! his mother whispered, the words clawing at her throat.
Listen to me, son Her breath was barely audible now, each syllable a struggle. The illness had hollowed her out, leaving only a ghost of the strong, warm woman shed once been. Lucian barely recognised her.
Please, dont leave Marigold Her fingers tightened around his wrist with surprising strength. Shes delicate. Different. But shes ours. Promise me
Lucian grimaced. His gaze flickered to his older sister, Marigold, crouched in the corner of their cramped London flat. At forty, she still played with dolls, humming tunelessly, as if oblivious to their mothers fading breath. She smilednot at death, but some invisible joy.
Lucian had built a life: a thriving construction firm, a flashy Range Rover, a grand house by the Thames. There was no place there for Marigold. His children shrank from her, and his wife, Lillian, called her mad. Never mind that Marigold was gentle, harmlessjust a child in a womans body.
But you know Ive got responsibilities, he stammered, tugging at his trapped hand.
The family home is yours, his mother rasped. For Marigold, Ive left a three-bed flat. Its all legal.
How? Lucian and Lillian exchanged stunned, greedy glances.
I cared for my old schoolteacher Took her meals, medicines. She was kind. Never thought shed leave me the flat. Its in Marigolds namefor her safety. But you you must watch over her. Later, itll go to your children. Who knows how long shell live
That night, their mother died.
Marigold didnt seem to understand she was alone. Lucian took her in at once and began renovating the flat.
Why bother? Lillian hissed. Let her stay here. Well rent it out.
At first, she tolerated Marigoldquiet, lost in her dolls. But the oddness unnerved her. Shes calm today. What about tomorrow?
Just be patient, Lucian pleaded.
Six months later, with a solicitor friends help, he transferred their mothers house and Marigolds flat into his name. Tricked her into signing papers she didnt understand.
Then the nightmare began.
While Lucian worked, Lillian tormented Marigold: locked her in rooms, screamed, sometimes fed her cat food. Shed find her weeping, terrified. One day, Lillian struck her. Marigold, hysterical, wet herself.
Youre not just a freak, youre filthy too? Out of my house!
She hurled Marigolds things into a bag and shoved her out the door.
Wheres Marigold? Lucian asked that evening, stretching in bed.
Gone! Lillian snapped. Pissed herself, then bolted. Im not chasing a lunatic!
Lucian was silent. Then, softly: Well if she left. He turned on the telly. Found tenants, by the way.
The night stretched long. Guilt gnawed at him. Where was she? Helpless as a child. By dawn, he drifted offonly to dream of his mother.
I begged you, son Her corpse pointed at him from the coffin.
The dream haunted him for weeks. He couldnt bear it. Two months later, he called his godmother, Anne.
Conscience biting, Lucian? Her voice was ice. Good thing I checked on your mother. Found Marigold terrifiedtook her in. Ill keep her. Dont want her flat. You live with the shame.
Christ, Anne He hung up, relieved. Marigold was safe.
But she died two months laterthe same illness as their mother. Lucian skipped the funeral. Urgent business.
Decades passed. Now Lucian lay sick, wracked with pain and regret. Lillian had left him for another man. His children visited rarely, noses wrinkled. You smell like death.
One day, Lillian strode in with papers.
Sign. We need to settle the firm.
He did. Too late, he realisedit was the deed to the house. Then the company. Gone.
His mothers face flickered in his mind. Marigolds laugh. Tears carved hot tracks down his cheeks.
Forgive me he whispered into the swallowing dark.
