[LINDA'S POV]
When I was eleven years old, my grandma once told me that I was really naïve—that I believed too quickly and felt too deeply. That the world was full of dangers and monsters and all kinds of sinners.
That I should always be careful when putting my faith in someone.
But a few days before she died, she called me into her room and gave me one more piece of advice—one that I could still hear in my head to this day. I was fourteen when it happened, and she was at the teetering age of ninety-one.
As I sat in the chair next to her bed, she wriggled her fingers and motioned for me to put my hand in hers. I did as she told me. I held her hand and felt the coldness of her flesh seep into mine. It was that touch I could still feel against my palm, and I could still see myself shiver
