Senna
I am a very good liar. I spend my days smiling at people who killed everyone I loved, and I do it so well that they give me keys to their rooms. It has been six weeks since I remembered that my name is Maren, not Senna, but I still answer to Senna. I have to. Senna is the girl they trust. Senna is the healer who fixes their cuts. Maren is the girl who wants to watch this whole house burn.
I walked toward the records room with a clipboard held against my chest. My heart was thumping hard, but my face was as still as a pond.
"Morning, Leo," I said when I reached the heavy oak door.
Leo was a young guard who liked to snack on dried apples. He looked up and grinned at me. "Oh, hey Senna. You look busy today. What’s on the list?"
"The infirmary is low on tinctures," I said. I showed
