An hour ago, I got in the car, and I didn’t stop driving. I had tunnel vision. I was full of rage. The outside world careened by me but only in various hues of crimson and scarlet, as if the blood boiling in my veins had grafted itself onto every single object I was seeing. And I knew leaving the house was going to have consequences, but I didn’t care—I still don’t care. I need to see this through. I need to get to the bottom of all of this. I’m running out of time and this is my last chance, my last opportunity to learn what really happened that night at the lake house, to discover who is responsible for Kelly’s death, and to free myself from this nightmare.

I’m a few steps away from throwing the doors open and coming face to face with Anne, the woman I’ve known for years, the woman who threatened me, the woman who most likely killed Kelly, and the woman who is trying to frame me for it. How could she? How could she get so close without me knowing? Why was she at our lake house? I know Sarah has let her stay there in the past for vacation, but why was she there then?

She’s never been a person I looked at twice. She was there, seemingly innocent, but now I see the cracks in her—I see who she really is: a vengeful monster. Her quietness is now plotting and manipulative. Her politeness is cunning. Her entire wholesome demeanor is just a façade for who she truly is: a bitch of the highest order.

The photo and the Post-it note are clutched in my hand. I throw the doors open and I scan the office. A couple of people look up, some look scared, others are unphased by my disheveled appearance. I walk further into the office. I am looking for one person and one person only. I know where she’ll be. It’s where she always is. Sitting, plotting, waiting. I round the corner and notice her desk is empty. Fuck.

Then, there she is walking toward me, chatting with a man beside her and carrying a stack of folders. She doesn’t notice me at first.