Page 10 of She Haunts Me Still

It’s like she was trying to cut out her own heart.

Mallory leans against a tree, hand pressed to her mouth to hold back a swell of bile.Wake up,she silently commands herself.Wake the fuckup—

“Mallory,” whispers a childlike voice. “Don’t be afraid.”

She whirls. Déjà vu flattens her stomach, and her mouth forms a name she hasn’t uttered in over a decade.

“Kiki…?”

Mallory hasn’t seen her since moving in with Aunt Penelope, but it’sher: Kiki, the girl who lived next door to the blue house. Kiki, the girl with golden pigtails Mallory used to trade secrets with beneath the willowy stretch of her tree house. Kiki, her very first friend.

“Kiki, wait,” she calls as the young girl starts for the fire. “Don’t go over there!”

“It’s okay.” Kiki points. “She’ll protect us.”

“Who?” Mallory squints through the smoke. “What are you talking about?”

Kiki’s amber-colored eyes glimmer. “Her name,” she whispers, “is Lily.”

“Mallory Eleanor Webb!”

Mallory opens her eyes at Arden’s loud voice and winces at the blaze of light streaming into the dorm. Gauzy curtains are thrown wide on either side of the arched windows, and Mallory shields her face as she sits up.

“Close those, will you?” Mallory mutters, chestnut hair pooling around her shoulders. “Why are you screaming first thing in the morning?”

“It’s almost noon.” Arden tosses jeans and a sweater at her. “You missed scene study. I’m here to drag your ass out of bed so you don’t miss advisory, too. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“What?” Mallory says, fully awake now. She reaches for her alarm clock and frowns at the frozen 3:33 that stares back. “Shit.”

She drops the broken clock with a clatter and peels off her oversized T-shirt, tugging on fresh clothes. When she looks back at Arden, it’s to find her peering oddly.

“Did you do some painting after we all hung out?”

Mallory frowns, confused. They spent yesterday evening smoking clove cigarettes in the twinkling courtyard tucked between a cluster of dormitory halls: Corwin, Denitt, Tillinghast, and Fletcher. All four brick buildings are punctuated with trellises of ivy and wrought iron gates, though Fletcher, where Mallory and Arden live, is arguably the biggest, with newly renovated rooms.

At some point, they were joined by two other theater majors, Rafael Marques and Jessica Yun, who arrived bearing a six-pack and excitement over the cast list.Guess we’re going to have to get to know each otherreallywell,Raf had joked to Mallory after announcing he’d be playing Romeo.

She’d gone to bed first, telling the others she had to get up early to study for an art history exam, when really, she intended to look up that neurologist from her mother’s records. Memory of the plan comes flooding back now, and Mallory jumps to her feet.

“Painting? I don’t know what you mean. Arden, I need to make a call, and it’s kind of private. Do you mind…?”

She trails off, noticing her hand. One side is smudged black, as though she’d dipped it in wet paint.

“That’s why I asked,” Arden says, following her stare. “What is that?”

“I don’t know.” Mallory rubs it with her bandaged hand, wincing at the slice of pain. But it’s useless; the mark lingers like a shadow.

“Mal,” Arden asks softly, “are you alright?”

Arden’s tone wraps Mallory in a familiar warmth, reminding her of all the times they’ve taken care of each other. How Arden checked on her between classes the entire week she had the flu in tenth grade. The way Mallory snuck a bottle of wine into their dorm last year when Arden’s then-boyfriend kissed another girl at homecoming.

Mallory summons a smile. “I’m fine. Thanks for waking me.”

“ ’Course.”

She glances at her desk, swallowing yet more guilt. “I really do need to make that—”

“Call. Right.” Arden grabs her bag. “Coffee later?”