The following Tuesday, Eleanor joined Agnes Plum for their weekly bridge game, held at the quaint Willow Creek Country Club. The air inside felt stifling, heavy with unsaid things. Eleanor tried to focus on her hand, but her friend’s nervous fidgeting was a distraction.
Mrs. Henderson, usually boisterous, cleared her throat every few minutes. Mr. Davies kept his eyes on his cards, avoiding Eleanor’s gaze completely.
Finally, Agnes coughed.
“Eleanor, dear,” she began, her voice barely a whisper, even though no one else seemed to be listening. “There are… rumors.”
Eleanor set down her cards. “Rumors, Agnes? About what?”
Agnes wrung her hands. “Elias has been saying… that since Leo’s accident, you’ve been a little… fragile. Mentally. That you’re ‘misremembering things,’ or ‘overreacting.'”
A sharp pain lanced through Eleanor’s chest. “He’s gaslighting me, Agnes. He’s doing it to cover his tracks.”
She leaned forward, her voice low. “That €4.2 million from the Children’s Fund? It wasn’t for charity. He bought up land around the new Community Center site. He’s planning to make millions by selling it back to the town or developing it himself.”
Agnes’s eyes widened, then her brow furrowed. She glanced nervously at the other tables, then back at Eleanor. Her expression was not one of understanding, but of deep unease.
“Eleanor,” Agnes said, her voice filled with a painful uncertainty. “Elias told me… he said you’ve been acting strangely, accusing him of things. He even mentioned… your memory hasn’t been what it used to be.”
The words hung in the air, a chilling confirmation. Elias’s narrative, carefully planted, had already taken root. Eleanor saw the doubt in Agnes’s eyes, the fear of contradicting a powerful man, and the terrifying isolation began to close in around her.
+ There are no comments
Add yours