Page 59 of You Will Never Be Me

Matt clears his throat. “It looks worse than it really is, due to the state of decomposition. But um, I think she died a relatively painless death.”

“Painless—” Clara seems to have lost the ability to speak. She leans back in her chair, breathing hard.

“It’s a good thing,” I say. I need Clara to understand this one kindness I have afforded her.

“The killer probably drugged her before putting something over her face—probably a pillow—and asphyxiating her,” Matt says. “I’m sorry, I know this must be hard to hear.”

“Why would anyone do that?” Clara screams.

Matt grimaces. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms.Lee. But I can’t answer that. I hope the team finds the killer. Thank you for your time. You can have the room for as long as you need.” With that, he slides the forms back and leaves the room.

I sit there wordlessly while Clara howls. I try to will the tears to come, but in the face of her unimaginable sorrow, my own tears seem to have dried up, so I sit and wrap my arms around Clara’s shoulders and whisper meaningless, soothing words to her. My own emotions are a hurricane inside me. I don’t know what I should be feeling, but every emotion feels wrong. Do I havethe right to mourn my best friend’s death when I was the one who caused it?

It’s an eternity before Clara calms down enough for us to finally leave. I walk her out of the station and into the car, where I make sure she’s buckled in before I start the engine. I take a moment to ground myself.Focus, I remind myself.Getting into an accident right now isn’t going to be cute.

As I’m pulling out of the parking lot, my phone rings. I glance at it, see Ben’s name, and immediately leap to the worst-case scenario: something has happened to Luca or Sabine. I hit Answer, putting him on speakerphone.

“Aspen,” Ben says, and there is so much urgency in his voice that both Clara and I stiffen.

“What is it?”

“Where are you right now?”

“Just leaving the police station, why?”

“You need to come straight home,” he says in an acidic tone.

Fear claws at me, ripping into my skin. “What’s happened? Is everyone okay?”

“Is it Luca?” Clara cries.

There is a pause. Then Ben says, “Am I on speakerphone?”

“Yes, oh my god, Ben, just tell me what it is, I’m driving.”

“Pull over and put me off speakerphone,” he says, and it comes out practically as a snarl.

Clara’s mouth drops open. “What is it?” she’s practically screaming. “Is Luca okay? Just tell me that right now!”

“Luca is okay. The kids are fine,” Ben says, obviously fighting to put his anger in check. “I need to speak with Aspen privately.”

I shoot Clara an apologetic look and pull over, my stomachchurning like I’m about to be sick. I pluck the phone out of the holder, turn it off Speaker mode, and press it to my ear. “What is it?” I hiss. “I hope you know you’re being really rude right now.”

“Fuck being rude,” Ben hisses back. “What the fuck did you do, Aspen? Someone posted a video of you.”

My insides turn to ice. “Wh-what video?” In the second it takes Ben to answer, my mind whizzes ahead, coming up with a thousand answers, each one more dire than the last. Does someone have footage of me killing Mer? No. It can’t be that. They would’ve released it way before.

“It’s a video of your morning routine.” Accusation drips from every word.

“Oh.” That doesn’t sound too bad.

“Except…it’s not a morning routine.”

“Oh.” I squeeze my eyes shut. Now I know what he’s talking about, and it’s so much worse than I thought. I want to dig a hole for myself and cover it up and never come back up.

“Yeah,” Ben says. “It shows you getting the twins off the couch and into their bedrooms to pretend to wake up. It has you snapping at Elea. I mean, for fuck’s sake, Aspen, this is what I’ve been warning you about. I’ve been telling you that people will find out how fucking fake you are, and now”—he pauses, his breath coming in a sharp hiss—“the person who posted it—Tanya—she’s saying that Meredith sent it to her months ago. You know how bad this looks, you stupid—you—fuck! I can’t—”

My stomach is twisted so tight that I think I might actually faint. I manage to mumble, “Okay, be right there.” I hang up and stare out the windshield.

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