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Myra draws closer, her hand clasping mine as I tell her everything I remember about the male psychiatrist who supervised my treatments. Then I tell her about the morning I escaped Reverend Tom, who turned out to be connected to X-Cite Media. When I get to the part about returning to Mom’shouse to confront her, thinking she was behind the polaroids, she gasps.
“That’s when you saw your twin?” she asks.
Grief escapes my lungs in an outward breath, making me deflate. “I’ve never met anyone so malevolent. She blames me for everything that went wrong in her life.”
“Did she ever say what she thinks you did?”
I raise my shoulders. “She wanted me to remember.”
“But you don’t?”
“It’s always been at the tip of my awareness. You know that feeling you get when you turn out the light and sprint to bed, trying to outrun the monster?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I can imagine.”
“I had the same thing with the mirror. If I looked myself full in the face, I felt like the monster behind it would climb out and kill me.”
“That’s…” She blows out a breath.
“Insane?”
“I was going to say insightful. Maybe even frightening. I can’t imagine having an evil twin.”
“From the way she talked, I was the evil one.”
“My friend is not evil.”
We fall silent for several moments, both staring into the vast garden. A squirrel scampers across the grass, pausing to look at us before it darts up a tree trunk and jumps from branch to branch.
“Why can’t we be like squirrels?” I mutter. “They don’t hold grudges. All they care about are nuts.”
She bumps her head against mine. “Speaking of nuts, are you still with Xero?”
I draw back, staring into her warm eyes. She raises her brows, her smile widening the way it does when she pulls outone of the items she sells at Wonderland. It takes a minute to register that she’s talking about Xero’s dildo.
Warmth flares across my cheeks, and a giggle bubbles from my chest. I place a hand over my smile. “Myra!”
“So?” she asks, her eyes sparkling.
The initial rush of amusement fades, leaving behind a slowly burgeoning disgust. Silicone sex toys wielded by my best friend are one thing, but what they represent makes my stomach churn.
My mind dredges up memories of being force fed. I swallow hard, chasing away the mingled taste of gruel and semen, fighting the urge to gag. The last thing I want to talk about is anyone’s penis. Not even Xero’s.
“Myra, I can’t.”
Her smile falls. She pauses, seeming to process my words. Maybe she’s piecing together what I’d told her earlier, before my abduction, about X-Cite Media capturing Lizzie Bath as a replacement for me, because there’s a brief flicker of confusion before she rears back, her eyes widening with horror.
“Oh, my god. Amy, I’m sorry?—”
I hold up a hand. “It’s okay. Actually, it’s nice to have someone who doesn’t walk around on eggshells. But maybe not that topic?”
She nods, her eyes spilling over with fresh tears. “You know I’m always here for you. This time, if you confide in me, I won’t run off and tell my sister.”
I laugh at the reference to the time I told her about killing Mr. Lawson. Most thirteen-year-old girls would freak out, maybe even call the police, but Myra tried to get me legal advice.
After her sister reported me to the police, her parents made up for it by helping Mom and Dr. Saint craft a defense strong enough to get me out of juvenile prison.
I squeeze her hand and smile. “Thank you for being such a good friend.”
