Judging by the dates, it’s the last book she wrote in before she died. The three books span across two years, Gigi having died on May 20", 1946. The book was open on an entry two days before Gigi’s murder, May 18". She’s expressing fear, but she doesn’t say of who. Clearly, she’s terrified of something. My heart thumps harder as I ingest her rushed words. She talks about someone being after her. Scaring her. Who, though? Forgetting about everything else around me, I sit on the edge of the bed and flip to the beginning. With each passing entry, her words become clipped and fearful. Before I know it, I’m nearly ripping through the pages, trying to find any inkling of who her murderer is. But on the very last page, her last words are: he came for me. No lipstick kiss on the page. Just those four daunting words. I turn the page, looking to see if there’s more. Desperate for it, actually. There are no more entries, but I do notice something strange. A jagged piece of paper sticks out from the spine. I trace my fingers over it. A page has been ripped out of the diary. Did she write down something important and decide it wasn’t worth the risk of anyone knowing? All three of these books are risqué, full of cheating and sex. Above all, full of love for a man that stalked her. I look up, staring ahead but seeing nothing. When Mom left, she left with the hopes that I’d listen to her advice and move out of Parsons Manor. But when she walked out of that door, the sickening smell of her Chanel perfume lingering in my nostrils, I decided I didn’t want to move. Did Nana have a weird attachment to the manor? Possibly. But if this house meant so much to her, it doesn’t feel right to give it away. Even if that means I have an unhealthy attachment, too. And now, that decision is only solidifying. There’s no way this book could’ve ended up on the floor. Yet it did. And I don’t know if it was Nana’s doing, or Gigi’s, but someone wanted me to read these entries. Do they want me to find the person who killed Gigi? God, I can’t imagine how difficult 1t would’ve been to solve a murder in the 40s with such underwhelming technology. Is her murderer even still alive? Maybe it doesn’t matter if he is or not. Maybe Gigi wants justice for her murder, and for the man that ended her life too soon to be exposed—dead or alive. I exhale a shaky breath, my fingers tracing the four daunting words. He came for me.