“Fuck you.” I glare at her and she rolls her eyes. “And I know it was you that night. Somehow you took over.”

“Maybe I did,” she says with a shrug and a twinkle in her eyes. “But sorry to disappoint, it wasn’t me that’s making you forget. That was something else entirely. Perhaps you had too much to drink… I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“I didn’t have that much to drink… And you have to remember some things because I can remember you with River,” I say.

“Yeah, but after that I’m in the dark too. I can honestly tell you I have no clue what we did that night, although really the possibilities are endless.”

I don’t believe her. “I know you killed Sydney that night and now you’re getting some sick pleasure in the fact that you did.”

“If I killed her, then you killed her. And if I find pleasure in killing, then you do,” she responds dryly, coiling the blond strand of hair around her finger. “You and I are the same Maddie in so many ways, so think twice about the accusations you make.”

My eyes burn with anger. “Fuck you.”

Lily rolls her eyes, the anger simmering in the reflection. “Now, now, now Maddie, don’t let yourself get out of control. It’s why you need me—for stability. I’m always taking care of you all the time. And sometimes it gets annoying how you repay me—with such hatred.”

“Maddie, are you in there?” A knock on my door startles me and I drop the button onto the floor. I hesitate to respond to my mother. I’ve been keeping my distance from her for the last twenty-four hours, for her protection mainly. Worried that Lily will take over again. That she’ll hurt someone. I haven’t even been able to shut my eyes, fearing what will happen the moment I go to sleep.

Knock. Knock. Knock. “Maddie, open up. This is important.”

“Okay… just a second.” I pick up the button, toss it back into the box, then put the lid on and hurry to the closet to tuck it safely away. I kick as many photos as I can underneath the bed before opening the door.

My mom’s standing just outside it, looking more worried and more aged than normal. “Who were you talking to?”

I force my brows to knit. “No one.”

She peers over my shoulder, her eyes enlarging as she takes in my bare walls. “And where did all your photos go?”

I shrug nonchalantly. “I got sick of looking at them, so I took them down.”

She frowns at my attire “What are you wearing?”

Cutoffs, fishnet tights, and a torn t-shirt—I’m Rocker Girl today. The outfit was supposed to go underneath my work attire, but I never made it that far. “My lounge clothes.” I sketch my fingers over a few studs in the collar of the shirt. “I was just about to change out of them.”

She touches the hem of my shirt, her face draining of color. “Why were you wearing them at all?” She rubs the corner of the shirt between her finger and them, then withdraws her hand and looks at me. “I didn’t even know you owned clothes like this. You look like…” She makes a face. “You look like a whore.”

You’re a whore!

You’re a whore!

You’re a whore!

My muscles spasm as her words, the deep voice thunders in my mind. My mouth opens and shuts. Opens and shuts. Lily is forcefully trying to push her war to the surface and it takes a lot to suppress her. I have no idea what I’m going to say to my mother. Cruel things. Hateful things. Terrifying things. But part of me just wants to keep my mouth closed. “Did you need something?” I snap.

“There’s someone here to see you,” she says almost soundlessly, lifting her hand to point over her shoulder at the hallways. “A detective.”

“What?” I can’t conceal my shock, my voice coming out off pitch. They know. “Why?”

She shrugs, folding her arms around herself, looking very upset, near tears. “I’m not sure. I think he said it had to do with Sydney Ralwington’s case.” She doesn’t sound surprised. I’m not surprised, but she should be, unless she knows more than she’s letting on.

“Okay…” I feign confusion. “But why? I don’t know her.”

She stares at me for the longest time. “You should change first,” she mutters with disappointment in her tone, eyeing up my outfit with disdain. “You look disgusting.”

“I look fine for going out into the living room.” I tug the hem of the shirt down and start to step by her.

She snags me by the elbow. “Maddie, please change—”

“I said it’ll be fine,” I interrupt her, staring at her hand on my arm then lift my cold gaze to her. “Now let me go.”

With her eyes pooling with tears, she withdraws back and grudgingly steps aside and lets me through so I can go down the hallway. As I step into the living room, I discretely wipe the sweat off my damp hands as I spot the detective. He’s fiddling with one of my mom’s knick-knacks, a unicorn missing half it’s horn. There are actually a lot of knick-knacks in the living room, practically taking over the shelves, the tables, the windowsill. It overwhelmed me when I was first brought home from the hospital, feeling like I was being watched by the little glass figurines.

“Can I help you?” I ask, my guard up, an invisible wall around me. I am unreachable. Untouchable. You need to be Lily, if you want to get out of this. She’s much stronger.

Never.

My arrival must surprise him because he drops the figurine, but recovers it mid fall before it can hit the hardwood floor and shatter. “Dammit,” he curses under his breath, then carefully sets the unicorn down before he stands up from the chair and crosses the living room with his hand outstretched.

“I’m detective Elliot Bennerly, from the Grove Police Department,” he says, waiting for me to shake his hand.

It takes me a moment to shake it, not to gather the courage, but to debate whether it’s a good idea to touch him. Finally, though, I decide it’ll make me look suspicious if I don’t, so I gently connect my hand with his and shake it politely and a shiver goes down my spine.

Do I know him?

“I’m Maddie Asherford,” I say.

“It’s nice to meet you Maddie.” He pauses, his ice-blue eyes sweeping over me, either looking for evidence or checking me out. He looks familiar but I can’t figure out from where. Late twenties, smooth skin, short brown hair, and nice facial features covered with a little bit of scruff. The only thing he doesn’t have going for him is the suit, otherwise he could be a Ken doll too, although the brunette one. Even though he’s good looking, I don’t want him—or anyone else—looking at me so intently at the moment.

“Likewise.” I causally slip my hand out of his and lower it to my side, unable to endure the touch of him any longer.

I wait for him to say something but he just stares at me with a pucker at his brow. The longer it goes on, the greater the urge gets to pick up the unicorn he was messing around with and bash him over the head. Elimination. This whole process would be a hell of a lot easier if he was unconscious and I just ran from it all.

There you go. Now you’re getting it. Survival.

“So, my mother said you wanted to talk to me about something,” I say, ignoring Lily’s voice the best that I can.

“Oh yeah.” He rips his attention away from me, and then ruffles his hair with his hand before reaching for his jacket pocket. “I’ve came to ask you a few questions about Sydney Ralwington’s murder.”

“Okay…” Adrenaline is soaring through my body. Fear. Even Lily’s afraid. I can feel her in me. Squirming. Restless. Worried.

Just be me and you’ll be okay. Be Lily.

“It’s strictly protocol,” he explains, retrieving a miniature notepad out of his pocket and pen. “We’re just questioning all the people who knew Sydney.”

“I didn’t really know her very well.” I take a seat on the sofa and then motion for him to have a seat across from me.

He sinks into the chair, pen poised on the paper. “But if I’m correct, you worked with her.” He fans through the pages of his notebook then squints at the paper as he reads over something. “At the Devils & Angels Bar?”