Chapter 16The day of the attack came back to me. I’d gone to the store for my mom to buy milk. We’d been arguing about it, I’d wanted to bake sugar cookies. She’d said it wasn’t necessary, there were store bought cookies in the tin and it was getting dark, too late to run out to the store for a sixteen year old. Aspen had been fourteen, stretching out her one leg on the counter and balancing on the other. She’d wanted to be a dancer. It was never too late to get fit and flexible, she’d used to say. I’d been jealous that she’d been taller than me. After that she’d never be taller than me again.
I’ve fought with her about my age, telling her that I was practically a grown up. Cocooned in a shell of innocence, I knew nothing. This I’d found out afterwards.
The last words I’d ever spoken to
