Chapter 2

It was Emma's wake.

White drapes hung from the ceiling. Her photo stood in the center of the room, a girl laughing with her whole face. Somehow the black-and-white frame made it feel wrong.

White lilies lay across the casket. Daisies surrounded it, hundreds of them. Daisies were Emma's favorite.

Grant looked like he'd lost thirty pounds. He sat there, hollow, like a tree that had burned from the inside out. The scene played in first person, through my eyes.

I walked up behind him and put my hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

He knocked it off.

The words I'd practiced stuck in my throat.

Grant spun around and grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me toward Emma's casket.

"You're hurting me, Grant!" I clawed at his hand and kicked at the floor.

He didn't loosen his grip. He threw me down in front of the casket and my forehead cracked against the corner. Blood ran into my eye.

"You have no right to be here. How can you even look at her?"

His voice cracked.

"The detectives asked you, and you said nothing. The cameras caught you at Ridgemont, Cassie. I saw the footage! Who are you covering for?"

I was shaking all over. I looked up at him and said nothing.

The picture on the screen began to blur. The crowd got louder.

She's doing this on purpose! She wants us to feel sorry for her!

Manipulative little snake.

People like her should be dead.

Through the shouting, the image shifted.

This time it was my wedding.

When the news broke that Grant Hartley was marrying me, half of Boston lost its mind. Emma's old friends turned on him. How could he forget how his sister died? How could he marry the woman who'd helped bury the truth?

On the way to the courthouse, someone smashed the windows of our car. A group of masked protesters had come to speak for Emma, and they did it with bricks. Nobody was hurt. After that, everything went smoothly.

I thought that day, at least, I was happy.

I'd been so naive back then. I believed what Grant told me.

There were no guests to speak of. The few people from Grant's company who showed up were there because he'd made it clear what would happen if they didn't. A county clerk read our vows in under five minutes.

On the screen, a single tear fell onto the wedding band.

I looked up and Grant was smiling at me, gently, the way he used to.

It was a plain ceremony. But it was enough for me. I knew he never planned to grow old with me.

The picture flickered.

Now I was in the basement of our house, my wrists cuffed to a pipe. Grant sat across from me. The warmth in his eyes was gone. What replaced it was cold and final.

"What are you hiding?"

I closed my eyes. Tears slid down the sides of my face.

"You won't tell me? Fine. Then I'll show you what real pain is."

His voice was a spike of ice driven straight through my chest.

He lit a cigarette. When it had burned halfway down, he pressed it into my skin.

My scream tore out of me. The room filled with the smell of burning flesh.

Back in the arena, my head spun. Maybe my body was too weak. Maybe something else was wrong. For a moment I could have sworn I felt that cigarette touch my skin again.

My lips parted. No sound came out.

On the other side of the stage, the audience was screaming things I wouldn't repeat. But honestly, they weren't so bad. After the last six years, none of those words could touch me.

Maybe dying would be a mercy.

I bit down on my tongue as hard as I could, and my mouth filled with the taste of blood.

"She's trying to kill herself!" Dr. Pierce yelled.