RETURN TO THE DARK HOUSE - Sneak Peek Pages

RETURN TO THE DARK HOUSE - SNEAK PEEK PAGES

BY LAURIE FARIA STOLARZ

RELEASE DATE: JULY 21, 2015

Dear Parker,

When my parents were killed, my therapist thought it would be a good idea to write them letters-as many as I felt I needed to, for all of the things I wanted to share.

She told me that I should write the letters on special paper, seal them up in envelopes, and then mail them to myself, so that one day, years later, I could open the letters and see how much I'd grown.

The idea seemed stupid to me at the time. I was angry, confused, incapable of perspective, never mind growth. But I really don't know what else to do here, Parker. And so I'm going to write you letters, starting with this one, but not as a way to track my growth, and not because I think you're dead.

I'm just hoping to feel connected to you somehow.

It's been almost two months since the Dark House weekend, and in that time, the FBI has come up with only a few basic theories-or at least only a few they're willing to share with me. First, that aside from you and Taylor, all of the other contest winners were killed at the amusement park.

I don't think that's true. They have yet to uncover a single body. That theory is based solely on my testimony about the movie clips we saw just before my escape. Well, that and the amount of blood discovered at a few of the nightmare rides.

The second theory is that the person in charge has an unlimited supply of money.

I know, not exactly rocket science, right?

Everybody keeps telling me to move on. But how can I move anywhere when you and the others are still missing? I know it may sound dumb, but after my parents' death, I never really allowed anyone to get too close-not my foster family, not one single friend-for fear that person might get taken from me too. But then I met you, and I broke all my own rules by allowing myself to be vulnerable and letting you in.

The time we spent together was the closest I'd felt to anyone in years. And, just as I'd always feared, you were taken from me too. But I'm going to get you back. And years from now when I open this letter, hopefully you'll be sitting right beside me, and I can share it with you for real.

Love always,

Ivy

LATE SUMMER

IVY JENSEN

My bedroom door creaks open, and the light from the hallway penetrates my room. I see his boot first: black wrinkled leather, soiled at the toe.