Upstairs, I got my phone, pulled on a bra and some sweatpants and shrugged back into my nightshirt. And I almost called the police in that moment. But I knew that when I did, they would take over. I would never be able to ask Esme anything on my own. Rummaging in my medicine cabinet, I found the last couple of painkillers I’d been given after the woman split my lip in the lobby of the lecture hall. I got out a kit with first aid cream and a bandage roll. When I got back downstairs, I dabbed a thickness of the cream on the girl’s stomach and wrapped the bandage roll around it, tying it securely.

“How do you even know her?” Stefan said sharply to me. “You act like you know her. How do you know who she is?”

“I do know her, kind of. I’ve never met her, but, well, it’s a long story. Just give me a minute to talk to her.”

“Talk about what? I know why she tried to kill us on the highway. I didn’t know it was her, but she tried to kill me once before, Mom. And I really am aware that I didn’t need her help to fuck myself up with drugs, but she did help, Mom! She was the supplier! Always. For Belinda and me. She made it easy for us to get wasted. She hated me. That night, what she wanted was for me to die.”

“I know for a fact she wished you would die. She was obsessed with Belinda, but so were you, Stefan! So were you! It was like a bomb waiting to go off, the whole situation.”

“I loved her,” he said.

“I loved her too,” said Esme and then, “I’m going to throw up. Please.”

I stood quickly and ushered her into the bathroom. We could hear her retching, water running, more gagging.

“Wait,” I said, in a low voice I hoped would still command him. “Look at me. I have to tell you something.”

But just then Esme came back out into the kitchen. I gave her one of the painkillers with a glass of milk. Then I made her a piece of toast to eat so she wouldn’t throw up the medicine.

Finally, I sat down. “If you loved Belinda, why did you kill her?”

“Kill her?” Esme struggled to her feet, gasped at the pain and fell back down in the chair. “Are you serious? Why did I kill her?”

“I’m completely serious.”

Stefan said, “What the fuck are you talking about, Mom?”

Esme cried out, “I didn’t kill Belinda! I would never have hurt Belinda!”

“Then who did kill her?”

“Are you out of your mind? He killed her.”

“Were you there when he killed her?”