Page 23 of I Will Mend You

“Amethyst,” Dolly says, her voice hardening. “Guess again.”

Mom pauses for a beat before her eyes widen and her face turns slack. “It’s you.”

“It’s you,” Dolly mimics.

“Dahlia?” Mom’s whisper rises an octave.

“Is that all you have to say after fourteen years?”

For the next several heartbeats, Mom’s gaze darts to a point beyond the camera, as if she’s calculating her method of escape. I’ve never seen her look so unsettled. She was always distant with me, but her expressions were always tinged with impatience and irritation. Never terror.

If Mom treated me like a dog making messes, she looks at Dolly like she’s a wolf.

“How did you find me?” Mom asks.

“When your golden child went viral on social media with her Xero Greaves fan club, she left several clues, including a New Alderney mailing address.”

Mom’s face twists with a mix of fury and disgust. “Amethyst.”

“Say her real name,” Dolly says through clenched teeth.

“You have to understand that we looked for you,” Mom says, her voice rough. “By the time I realized the truth, you’d disappeared. It was like you’d never existed.”

“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t thrown me away like trash,” Dolly says.

“Dolly… Dahlia.” Mom’s voice breaks. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“What’s this?” Dolly asks with a harsh laugh. “The slow realization that you sent away the wrong killer?”

“Please—”

“I’ll count to ten. If you can escape me, then I’ll put aside the knife and listen to your side of the story, but if I catch you, I will cut out your vocal cords.”

“Dahli—”

“One.”

Mom’s eyes widen, and she bolts out of screen, her heavy footsteps disappearing. Chuckling, Dolly pivots, and the camera pans to the bedroom door.

“Two.”

My gaze darts to Xero, who turns from the screen to shoot me an annoyed scowl. It finally registers that he can’t see what’s happening if I’m too busy looking at the patch of empty space my brain imagines he inhabits.

“Sorry,” I mutter, and force myself to watch.

Dolly jogs back through the house, her breath quickening, seeming so excited by the hunt that she’s forgotten to finish counting. When she reaches the kitchen, Uncle Clive is entering through the mud room, clad in a white shirt and cummerbund.

“Amethyst?” he says.

“Don’t call me that!”

The man’s eyes widen. “Amaryllis?”

“Wrong answer!” She hurls the knife across the room, lodging it in his gut.

Eyes bulging, he stumbles back through the mud room and out into the garden.“Dahlia.”

Dolly stridesacross the kitchen, snatching up another knife from the counter before reaching the mud room. As she steps outside into the garden, Uncle Clive staggers backward, only to trip head over heels into the hedge maze.

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