I’m lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I can hear the crickets outside and the window’s wide open. Emery says that she needs some “fresh air” but I think it’s just so the wind can drown my voice out.

Slut. I bet she did take the picture. I bet she’s the murderer.

“The murderer’s Gray,” Emery says. Well, at least I think that’s what she said. All I heard was “murderer” and “Gray”.

I groan. I have to stop talking out loud.

“How the fuck do you know?” I ask. 

She closes the window. “What?”

“I said, ‘how the fuck do you know?’”

“Think about it. Gray goes missing and then out of nowhere, 3 dead bodies.”

“Doesn’t mean she killed them. Gray’s not like that.”

“How long have you even known her?”

I pause. “Uh–”

“Exactly. It’s Gray, dumbass.” 

“I haven’t known you for long either,” I point out.

“You saying I’m the murderer?”

“I mean, you did take my picture.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m the murderer.”

“So you did take the picture!”

Emery rolls her eyes. “It was distracting.”

“You can’t take stuff that’s not yours.”

“You called me a fucking slut.”

Shit, she heard that?

“Yeah, slut,” I spat. “Making out with some asshole in the middle of class.”

“His name’s Lev and he’s the sweetest asshole I’ve ever known.”

Lev?

As in the guy I was working with yesterday? Is that why he’s so familiar? I didn’t catch a glimpse of his face in class when they were making out before, so why does it feel like I know him? 

“He is nice,” I reluctantly admit. “Doesn’t mean you can take my stuff.” I sigh. “Just give the picture back and we can forget this happened. Start over.”

“This is your start over. That’s why you died.”

That is why I died. Can I die a second time, too? I mean, yeah, three dead bodies were found. So what happens then, when I die again? Same questions I asked back when I was alive. Am I alive now? Endless loop.

“Just give me the picture and I won’t annoy you.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, you took it.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can–”

“No, I can’t because I BURNED IT!”

I fight back the urge to tackle her. 

WHYTHEHELLWOULDYOUBURN ITGODDAMNPYSCHOWHAT
ISWRONGWITHYOUWHATDIDIDOWHYDIDWHYWHY–

“Fuck you,” is all I say. 

“You wish you could,” I hear.

Gray isn’t in science the next morning.

Or the next day.

Or the next.

Or the next.

Meanwhile, Emery’s still pissed off that I care so much about that picture

and that son of a bitch Lev is still being nice. Honestly, if he’s trying to be the whole nice-boy-then-I-lure-you-into-my-trap-and-kill-you psycho, it’s not working.

Not that he isn’t nice.

And not that I consider him a psycho.

But since he’s working with Emery–and since they haven’t figured out who the murder is yet–I gotta consider all the possibilities. 

But where is Gray?

Emery can’t be right. 

It’s not possible.

Gray wouldn’t.

But maybe she would.