Chapter Fifty-One

Three days.

It had been three days since Myra had died... and I felt suspended in time, unsure over what to do next.

After that night, I had arrived home and walked straight into the shower. The process had taken a while since I had needed to peel off all the clothes that had stuck to me; their condition no longer salvageable at all and would need to be thrown out.

I'd stood under the showerhead and watched as the hot water turned red all around me, washing away all the evidence of what I'd done. But it wasn't enough. Even when the water had begun to turn clear, I started to scrub at my body. I scrubbed... and scrubbed... and scrubbed... until my flesh was almost as red as the water had been.

But even then, I could still see it. I could still feel it.

It hadn't been enough.

*I* hadn't been enough.

For three days, I’d done nothing but lay in bed, barely eating or moving. It was all I could do.

My parents had