Walking over to the box of buttons opened up on my bed, I look at Sydney’s, now part of the collection and the red, oval one that I have no idea who it belongs to. Picking up the heart, I clutch it in my hand, feeling the slightest bit of a prickle in my mind. Pick up the button, Maddie. What do you see?
“I see a crazy obsession,” I mumble, running my thumb across the front of the button. “All because of you.”
Don’t pretend that this is all me. You think it too sometimes. And you see where the obsession started. You were just a kid.
“So what. That still doesn’t mean anything.” I look around at the pictures of when I was a child, feeling like they can see and hear what’s going on, feeling as if they’re judging me. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I start tearing them down, not caring that I rip some of them in half. I pull them all down, because I don’t want to see the past anymore—don’t want to feel like I’m being haunted by a past that doesn’t feel like it belongs to me. By the time I’m finished, I’m panting, there are photos all over the floor, and I feel strangely satisfied.
I pad over to the mirror and smooth my hands across my short, black hair that’s nearly drenched in sweat. There’s something in my eyes that I don’t like but that I do like at the same time. Untamed wildness, a specter of Lily. “I really do hate you,” I say quietly.
“No, you don’t. You’d be lost without me.” The reflection speaks back and I jolt back, slamming my elbow into the wall. “That’s why we’re talking, isn’t it? Because you need me? You created me because you needed me?”
I shake my head as I stare in horror at the mirror. This has never happened before, her appearing to me like this. She looks just like me only she has a streak of blond in her black hair and her eyes are a shade darker than mine. “No, I hate talking to you. It’s because of you that I’m going crazy.” I touch where the streak would be in my own hair.
The reflection laughs at me. Actually throws her head back and laughs like this is all just a big joke. “Don’t kid yourself. You’re only going crazy because you’re fighting the crazy inside you. If you’d just accept it—me—this would be a hell of a lot easier. I could take care of you, you know. Take care of all your problems.” She sounds so much like Ryland for a moment that it throws me off. “Life would be so much easier if you’d just let me take over.”
“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.