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“Why did you do it? Was it really just to get rid of me so you could have my dad all to yourself?”
“Yes.” Her voice was still silky-smooth, like she couldn’t care less that eight innocent people lost their lives that night. “But I couldn’t just kill you. People would get suspicious then, because they’d realize you were the target, and they’d want to find out why. So I decided to make it like one of those slasher movies we always used to watch together.”
My stomach lurched at the memory of our old sleepover routines back in the day. Michaela, Tate, and I absolutely loved slasher movies, so whenever we hung out, we’d put one on and veg out on the couch with popcorn and candy. I couldn’t believe something so normal for teenagers had inspired something so sick and twisted in Michaela’s head.
“How could you do it?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. “How could you hurt so many people?”
She lifted one shoulder in a light shrug. “You’d understand if you’d ever been in love.”
Love? What she felt wasn’t love. It was a twisted, toxic obsession. Nothing more.
“Were you trying to pin it on Paxton by taking his jersey and only pushing him down the stairs instead of stabbing him? Or Tate by leaving him unhurt?”
“The latter.” Michaela paused to clear her throat. “I was originally planning to stab Paxton just like everyone else. But after I pushed him down the stairs, I looked out the window and saw police car lights in the distance, so I realized I was almost out of time and had to get to you before you escaped. I only took the jersey before that because I was so cold, even with my jacket on, and I saw it dangling over the stairs. But it ended up being really convenient, because when you survived, you instantly accused the wrong guy because of it, and that took all the attention away from me. No one ever suspected me.”
I gritted my teeth. “I bet it really pisses you off that I survived, doesn’t it?”
“It bothered me at the time, yes.” Her eyes flashed, and her nostrils flared slightly. “But I adjusted. I figured I’d have to get rid of you later, in some other way. It would be too suspicious if someone tried to kill you more than once.”
“So you tried to get me expelled from college and disowned by my dad. Congrats, I guess. You got your way,” I said. “Except I no longer care if my father wants nothing to do with me, given that he’s a sick fuck who likes little girls.”
“You just don’t get it.” Michaela sighed. “Our ages never mattered.”
“Um… yeah, they actually do matter.”
She let out an irritated snort. “Whatever.”
I stared at her. “Was it hard to stab yourself?”
“God, yes.” She winced. “It was fucking awful. But I had to do it. Otherwise people would wonder why I wasn’t attacked.”
“So why frame Tate?” I shook my head. “Out of anyone who was there that night. Why him? He was nothing but sweet and kind to you.”
“Well, there were two things,” she replied. “Firstly, I knew he’d sleep through the whole thing, so he wouldn’t catch me doing it. He’s always been able to sleep through anything, remember?”
“Uh-huh.”
“The other thing was that anyone who knows him knows he’s obsessed with true crime and forensics shows. So I figured that would make him look quite suspicious. Like maybe he was inspired by all of those shows to commit his very own crime.”
“Right. And he was meant to be the only survivor? Apart from you.”
Michaela nodded slowly. “I thought I’d have a lot longer to make sure the job was finished. But Paxton woke up, found Troy, and texted 911. After that, I didn’t have enough time.” She paused and clenched her jaw. “But I really, really thought you were dead.”
“I thought I was dead too,” I said softly. “I still can’t believe I survived.”
“Yeah, me neither,” Michaela replied, voice dripping with disdain.
I licked my dry lips. “When did you start planning the massacre?” I asked. “Was it after my mom died? So you could get me out of the way? The final person standing between you and my dad.”
“Oh, no. It was a long, long time before she died.”
I frowned. “Before?”
Michaela’s lips curved into a small smile. “Sienna… who do you think messed with your mom’s car?”
My blood ran cold. “What?”
“It was me, you idiot.” Her smile widened into a grin. “I’m the one who killed your mom.”
