All her thoughts swam in an ocean of muddled fog. She stepped to the shower, turned on cold water, and stepped in. As she let the water cascade over her, a sudden thought crystalized in her mind. This house was made of and for secrets, and she had been placed in a position of trust. She shivered under the shower and realized she would do anything to avoid betraying this place. Even if it meant lying to her husband. But she couldn’t quite place what secrets needed keeping. Something important, she was sure. She scrubbed her round body and turned off the shower.As she dried with a large towel, she listened for sounds in the house. But all she heard was the persistent ticking of some great clock in the mansion. All the Andersons seemed to have disappeared. She picked up her torn and disheveled clothes and walked naked back to the guest room she shared with her husband. She dropped the clothes in the corner and found an oversized t-shirt. She pulled it on, the glint of her ring catching. My story starts on a hot, humid June day, typical of Charleston in the summer, and I had been only eighteen for almost two months, just graduated high school, and was going to be attending college in the fall. I was helping my mother and father as they hosted my father's annual Citadel alumni party. My father was a graduate of the Citadel, and Citadel alumni are almost cult-like. Every June I could remember my father hosted a party for the neighbors as well as his former classmates from the Citadel, the ones who could attend at least, and normally there would be about six to ten of them. After the party broke up and the neighbors and other friends of my mother and father left and the few of my friends I would invite, my father and his former classmates would stay up and talk way into the early morning of the next day, telling stories of their time at the college; stories I must have heard over a hundred times by then. “Stop it, Travis,” I said to my boyfriend as I pushed him.
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