“What’s happening?” I slur, struggling to move my head.

“Have I ever told you,” she murmurs, stroking her fingers down my cheek, “how tired I am of being the perfect daughter? The perfect sister? The perfect best friend? It’s exhausting to pretend I’m this version of myself you all want me to be.”

She leans closer, cupping my chin and sweeping her eyes over my face. “That’s why I killed her, you know?”

My heart thuds heavily in my chest as she climbs to her feet. Metal glints in her hand, and she holds it up when she sees my distress. “It’s a knife, Chloe. Don’t worry, I won’t use it to kill you. I just need to collect some of your blood.” She exits the room. Panic presses on my sternum, fighting desperately for a way out as I try to process what’s happening. My head is a fog.

Dozens of creased notes rain over me in a cloud of confetti. She slaps my cheek again. “Hey, bestie, don’t go to sleep on me yet. See this?” She holds up a note. “Mom wrote me lots of these.”

She proceeds to read out a few. “‘I’ll be gone for the weekend. Help yourself to food in the fridge.’ ‘I left early. Your dinner money is in the envelope.’”

“Hey, hey, hey.” She slaps me again. Once… twice… “Eyes on me.”

“Notes,” I slur because it’s all I can get out as the room starts to spin.

“I kept them throughout the years.” She sets fire to one with a lighter, watching the small flame grow in size. “Hundreds of them. After I killed her, well, every morning, I would reach for one in the shoebox beneath my bed and leave it in the kitchen somewhere. It’s like she’s still here. Sometimes, I swear I can see her in the house.” The laughter that climbs up her throat has a crazed quality to it. “It’s not like much has changed. Instead of her writing the notes, I pick them out.”

“Wh-wh-why?”

“Why what?” she asks, extinguishing the flame and stroking my hair away from my shoulder. “Why did I kill my mom?” Pressing down on my pulse point, she smiles when she feels it racing beneath her fingertips. “I’d had enough of her rejection. See, that’s the thing. Your father loves you. You’re his entire world. He would walk through fire for you. I’m alone, Chloe. No one gives a shit about me. Not even you, not since we were eleven and Dylan, with his stupid skateboard tricks, smiled at you from the sidewalk. Ever since then, I’ve been your shadow.”

A tear seeps out of the corner of my eye. Swiping it away with her thumb, she soothes me. “It’s okay, bestie. It won’t hurt. You’ll go to sleep, that’s all. Won’t it be nice to finally join your mom?”

A whimper escapes my lips, and Willow leans in to press her mouth against mine as if she wants to taste the pitiful sound.