The Turn of the Key

by Ruth Ware

“Don’t come here,” she whispered, still refusing to look at me. “It’s not safe.” “It’s not safe?” I gave a little laugh. “Maddie, what do you mean?” “It’s not safe,” she repeated, with a little angry sob, shaking her head harder so that her words were almost lost. “They wouldn’t like it.”

The ghosts, she had sobbed. The ghosts wouldn’t like it.

“Achlys—(pronounced ACK-liss)—Greek goddess of death, misery, and poison,” it read.

Because it was the lies that got me here in the first place. And I have to believe that it’s the truth that will get me out.

You know that the reason I would never sleep with Bill Elincourt was because he was my father too.