ELLA

Cassie’s face falls like she’s seen a ghost.

“What are you— how did you get into my house?” She asks, voice thinner and shakier than usual. What a bitch really.

“Oh please.” I roll my eyes, looking around with a sneer. “It is hardly a house. Really, how do you survive in here? It’s so… ugh!” I stand up, swaying my purse. “Cramped up and tight and smells like really, really wet laundry.”

“That’s a crazy thing to say to my face.” The shock is fading. She ...