Jessamine
The notes have returned. I found one tucked beside my pillow, the crippling stench of burnt amber accompanying it. I found yet another riddle written in it and I’m certain someone is trying to mess with me. It read; Tell me, Jessamine Hunter, did you feel relieved when you saw her lying in her blood?
Those words threw me off balance. Only I knew the way mother died. She killed herself and my hands were much too small to lift her. I pulled at her corpse for hours, and I remember what the blood looked like, drawing a trail along the rough floor. Her eyes were opened. I didn’t close them. I didn’t look at her face. Or her hands.
Maybe I should have. Maybe mother didn’t kill herself. I don’t know what to think. It’s the same way I felt when I returned home that day. While I hate t
