“I honestly think that someone broke into the house, took the scarf, and left… just to drive me crazy,” I murmured to Charlie that evening.
“That is insane,” he whispered back at me, squeezing my shoulder gently as we continued watching Cheers.
“And I’ve already got a plan in place — if things take a turn for the worse and I need to vomit, I’ve got my purse unzipped,” I smiled, gently patting the bag.
I paused. “That’s so beautiful. That tells me that death was freeing for her — accidental, supposedly, but freeing. Why?” I looked up at her, the dead girl. “Why was she unhappy? Why did she hate herself?”