Memories From a Dead Girl

Austin lifted my body and walked toward the water. Chloe and I watched in horror as he knelt down and placed my body in the swamp. But the worst part, the absolute worst, was that before I was submerged, I saw my hand twitch.

I'd still been alive.

"Oh my God," Chloe whispered, her voice trembling.

The knife. Where was the knife he'd stuck in my gut? Was it all a ploy? No, it couldn't have been, because the cops had seen the wound. They constantly reminded him of what he had done to the person he loved.

"This is wrong," my sister said. "The police told me how you died. There wasn't any head wound."

As Austin stood, his pants wet and splattered with mud, I looked at his face; he didn't seem broken or devastated. In fact, he seemed pleased.

If I'd had a physical body, I'd have thrown up at his expression.

Slowly, my stomach turned over in disgust. Because I knew what had happened. It was completely impossible.

The boy in front of us wasn't human.

I thought he was very convincing back in the jail; he had seen enough shows to pick up on the little things that killers did to make themselves look innocent.

He played all of us, right from the start.

"We have to get back," I said. "Take my hand."

Chloe, pale and shaking, reached out and grasped my fingers.