Memories From a Dead Girl

The day I visited Chloe was the end of us. We'd always bonded and been close, even after she left for college. But that day, when she left me standing on the steps with Austin, my heart sank. Something had slowly been shifting between us and I hadn't seen it until that moment. But now she was here, fighting every impulse not to take Austin by the shirt and slam him into the bars, to crush his body, to kill him like he killed me.

"I am a good guy," Austin said, his voice thick with anger. His lips curled back and his knuckles were white as he gripped the bars tightly. "Did it ever occur to you that I actually didn't do it? The police found me with Olivia's blood and no memory, but—"

Chloe put a hand over her mouth and I knew she was willing herself not to throw up. She backed away from him, from me, and the situation. It was all too much, I knew. If only I could help her, let her know that I was still here, that I would figure things out.

"But what?" my sister spat, her eyes dark. "You killed her, that's why you're here. When they found you, you were holding the knife and your shirt was covered in her blood, and her body was half in the swamp."

Austin's eyes widened slightly and he looked sick. Then he turned away from her and said quietly, "I loved her."