sia

t my reflection. The girl in the mirror was a stranger, her eyes hollow, her face a pale, tight mask.

to brand me as his. It wouldn't budge. I ran my hand under cold water, the ic

dding photo of my mother and the father I barely knew. It wasn't a symbol of love anymore. It

sudden, sharp wave of grief that almost buckled my knees. I forced it down. Emotion was

ite book, a small silver locket with a picture of me as a baby inside. I placed them in

picture from last summer. Me, my mother, and Caden, all smiling on a

n, cut Caden out of the picture. His smiling face, the arm draped possessively around my sh

my wallet and tossed the scrap

of Isabella's sycophantic friends. A video of her and Caden, kissing on a ski lift,

st, confirming what I already knew. The betrayal

longer just pain. It was a compass. It was point

o the back door. My mother's small property backed onto the East River. I stoo

and hurled the ring

black, churning water. I