Amirah bites her lip harshly, feeling the familiar sting of tears.
Maeve Anderson is dead.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
Her step-mother sobs.
"Maeve," the woman cries mournfully, "Maeve, baby, come back."
Amirah's father pulls Yvette Anderson into his arms, pressing soft kisses against the crown of her head.
"Amirah," he mutters, eyes narrowed at her, "Get your mother something to drink."
"Step-mother," the girl hisses in reply, ignoring the way the woman hunches forward, as though suddenly overcome by another bout of fresh tears.
"Maeve, don't leave me."
Yvette tugs at her hair, mouth falling open in despair.
Amirah frowns.
Pointless, she thinks.
It's pointless.
Maeve Anderson is dead.
She should know.
After all, Amirah Quill had been the one to kill her.
Tugging the sleeves of her jumper over her hands, she frowns.
Shit.
Had that hole always been there?
Amirah twists her arm slightly, angling the purple tear to face her.
A glaringly obvious blood-stain stares back at her.
Shit.
"Maeve," her step-mother wails, ignoring the soothingly low hum her husband makes, in an attempt to calm her.
Shit.
Maeve Anderson is dead, and now everyone will know who killed her.
YOU ARE READING
Down By The River
Mystery / Thriller... They say Finton Creek hides secrets in its murky waters. Blood washes away, but the taste never leaves. ...
