It would seem my twin was far more crazy than I ever imagined because every single one of her diary entries was laced with obsession. Page after page, she wrote about a man with blue eyes that she’d been stalking.
It was night now, and I’d already retreated to bed after a quiet, draining dinner of half-warm noodle soup in the living room. Mom still hadn’t come downstairs. So I did what I always did, left her food at her door without a word. I carried the empty lunch plate back to the kitchen. At least she ate everything. The ceramic gleamed beneath the kitchen light, like it had been licked clean. Somehow, that made me feel better. A little.
I felt kinda bad for going over to Alex’s house and… stealing.
Well… scratch that. I didn’t steal anything. Not really. Besides, those were things
