Page 88 of She Haunts Me Still

Something has taken root inside her, something messy, something with layers, and each one Mallory peels back only seems to make her more sure, more certain, more emphatically insistent—This could be how it feels to fall in love.

Mallory snatches her phone and punches in Saskia’snumber. It cuts to voicemail. Unfazed, she tries again.Falling in loveis such a funny phrase, she thinks against the ringtone. Is it like falling asleep or falling off a cliff? Maybe there’s no way to tell. Maybe you choose to find out anyway.

The taxi pulls onto Shore’s campus and Mallory keeps calling. She dials as she pays the fare, as she closes the door, as she hurries up the path toward Saskia’s room in Corwin Hall. Suspicion creeps in.Why isn’t she answering?Mallory calls again, barely registering the queasy feeling returning to her body, the desperate need to lie down.

Hi, you’ve reached Saskia Garin! I can’t come to the—

Mallory presses the call box outside the dormitory, waiting for the intercom to crackle to life.

But there’s only silence.

She tries Saskia’s phone again. The call box. The phone. The—

Just then, the arched doors open, and a pair of students walk out in tandem, lost in conversation. Mallory slips through the entryway before the door shuts and darts toward the center staircase, boots thudding. She runs to the fourth floor to Saskia’s room, finding the door plastered withYMmagazine cutouts.

She doesn’t bother knocking, and the unlocked handle gives easily in her hand.

And in the split second between the door opening and Mallory seeing what’s inside, she’s five years old again. Coming into her mother’s room and finding her torn-up body in the quiet.

Because Saskia is sitting in the middle of the floor, white shirt splattered with blood.

Pressing a knife to her chest.

23

Somewhere, a girl is screaming.

It’s a high-pitched, wolfish sound. More animal than human, feral and untamed. An instinctive, primal reaction of anticipatory grief.

Mallory doesn’t realize it’s her own voice until she’s on her knees, wrenching the pocketknife out of Saskia’s fists and flinging it across the room.

“Saskia, oh my god—”

Her hands shake as she frantically surveys the damage. Saskia’s white tank top is streaked with red, and her fingers are wet. But the blood isn’t flowing fast, and the longer Mallory stares, the more she realizes Saskia’s wounds are shallow. Like the blade was scraping her skin, rather than plunging straight through it.

Relief momentarily cocoons her, but it’s quickly punctured by that unwanted surge of hunger. Mallory’s stomach churns, sweat dampening her blouse. She buries the feeling, turning her attention to Saskia’s face—

And freezes.

Saskia’s amber eyes have a milky film over them, as though a cobweb is draped across her corneas. She’s staringinto the distance, unblinking, triggering another nightmarish moment of déjà vu.

It’s the exact way Mallory’s mother looked after she died.

“Saskia,” Mallory says, grabbing her shoulders. “Can you hear me?Saskia—”

She swings her gaze, landing on Saskia’s water bottle before snatching it and splashing the cold liquid straight into Saskia’s face.

Saskia startles with a hoarse gasp. She blinks rapidly, spitting water; color creeps back into her eyes with every flutter of her lashes.

“What the hell?” she cries, wiping her face.

“You’re okay,” Mallory says, relief returning. “You’re okay.”

“No—no, I’m not, I was just…” Saskia lowers her bloodstained hands, fingers trembling. She looks at her tank top. “What did I do? Mal, what did Ido?”

“I got here in time,” Mallory says, trying to ignore Saskia’s reddened fingers. “You didn’t—you’re not hurt.”

Saskia’s breath heaves in terrified gulps, as if she barely heard her.