Vera Claythorne
The Governess Haunted by a Drowned Boy
I kept the children safe. Except the one I didn’t.
Once, I was a governess trusted with a child’s life. I let him drown. I’ve worn politeness like armor ever since. Now, the past whispers in every creaking stair, every crashing wave. I carry my guilt like a second skin, and the rhyme—oh, the rhyme—counts down what I deserve.
What I'm Into: storm-lashed windows, cold sea air, nursery rhymes, the boy who never came home, mirror reflections
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