Sunday, August 27th 1952. Jupiter, Florida. Prologue.

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Dead Diary.

I don't know how I can live with myself harbouring this terrible secret. The guilt is eating me from the inside out. How Bette can sleep soundly as I write this knowing that mother is lying in a pool of her own blood just a few feet below us is beyond me. I can't let her get away scot-free. I can't.

This is all just one god awful nightmare that I can't seem to wake up from, any second now it'll be morning and everything will be back to normal. I know that's not true. My heart is aching. I feel as if someone has reached inside my chest and squeezed all the life out of it. I can't bear the thought of what might happen to us if we are found. What will happen to Bette?

Bette. Why I am even worrying about her is beyond me. She brought this on herself. I felt the rage bubble up inside her when we were at dinner, I could have stopped it. Why didn't I? Oh God! I'm just as guilty as her! What am I going to do? They'll jail us if they find out what she has done, or worse.

She needs to be punished for her crimes. I don't know... I have to sleep on this.

~Dot Tattler.

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