She pads barefoot into the bathroom and there’s a hidden camera in there too. I watch her on video pour out her beer. I hear it splashing into the sink, and when she glances into the mirror her keenly pretty face is a mixture of sad, hurt and angry but mostly sad and hurt. Lucy loved her. Carrie was her first love. In some ways she was Lucy’s last.

“I don’t trust anything you give me, anything you do.” Lucy raises her voice as she turns on the water full blast, washing the beer away.

She looks in the mirror again and her face is so young, so childlike, and her eyes are teary. She’s trying to be brave, to control her volatile emotions, and she splashes water on her face and dries off with a towel. She walks back into the bedroom as I realize that Carrie must have set up a network of motion-sensitive recording devices that she programmed to override each other when someone moved from room to room. I could see what Lucy was doing in the bathroom but I couldn’t see Carrie. Now I can. I’m watching both of them again.

“That was wasteful. It was ungrateful.” Carrie touches the tip of her tongue to the opening of her St. Pauli Girl bottle, lightly tracing the beveled rim.

She stares into a camera and slowly licks her bottom lip. Her eyes are glassy. They’re almost Prussian blue, changing like her moods.

“Please leave,” Lucy says. “I don’t want to fight. We need to end this without a fucking war.”

Carrie bends over to take off her running shoes and socks. “Can you hand me the lotion, please?” Her ankles are unnaturally pale with prominent blue veins, the skin almost translucent like beeswax.

“You’re not showering here. You need to go. I have to get ready for dinner.”

“A dinner I’m not invited to.”

“You know exactly why that is.” Lucy retrieves a camouflage toiletry bag from the top of the dresser.

Rummaging for an unlabeled plastic bottle, she tosses it to her. Carrie snatches it out of the air like a touchdown pass.

“Just keep it. I don’t use it, no way I would.” Lucy returns to her perch on top of the desk. “The long-term side effects of rubbing copper peptides and other metals and minerals into your skin is unknown. In other words fucking untested. Look it up. But what is known is that too much copper is toxic. Look that up too while you’re fucking at it.”

“You sound just like your annoying aunt.” Carrie’s eyes darken, and it continues to jar me when she refers to me as if I’m not the one watching this.