"Whisper?" I repeat, incredulously. "You don't seriously think I can do what any of that voodoo shit Shannon was doing."

Alex reaches across the table, over the pentagram wind chime. When his fingers finally graze the arm of my sweatshirt, a heat spreads across my chest.

"Just indulge the old man," he says. "We really need to get going."

"Besides," Mr. Thatcher grunts, "that voodoo shit, as you've so eloquently said got Shannon killed! She wouldn't have died if it weren't for her thinking she was God's gift to humanity after killing that Ethan for you." He snorts. "Feeding the right wolf, my ass."

I rip my arm out from under Alex's touch and flip Mr. Thatcher off. "If you're trying to link her death to Ethan, then you can kiss my ass. I didn't ask her to do anything for me!"

A part of me cheers that Inglewood Moriah has found her voice. Another part just wants to drag Mom from bed and into Cherry, rumble into the night and forget this nightmare of a town exists.

"C'mon y'all," Alex's eyes go wild, frantically darting between me and Mr. Thatcher. He points to the chimes. "Moriah won't be ready in time if we're just gonna argue."

Ready for what?

"Please, Moriah," Alex pleads. "The old man is stubborn."

"And a deal's a deal," Mr. Thatcher says loudly. "You owe me a story."

"I met Ethan on Tumblr." The words come out in a rush. Like I couldn't make it to the toilet in time to throw up.

I'm too embarrassed to admit Ethan and I bonded over Adventure Time. I don't mention the Jake the Dog and Princess Bubblegum memes. How Ethan would comment on everything I posted with heart-eye emojis. That his sense of humor made so much sense to fourteen-year-old me, how the attention he gave me made me feel like I could be young and not have to save the world all the time.

"He was older. Much older." I sneak a glance at Alex. His lips are chapped. But he's not smirking. "We both lied about our ages. He said he was younger. I said I was older. But it was fine. I didn't think I'd, like, ever meet him. We chatted and texted. He actually told me he loved me."

Alex rolls his eyes. "You fell for that?"

"I was fourteen, dipshit."

Mr. Thatcher thumps the table. "What happened after that, Moriah?"

"He came to visit me," I admit, my voice getting smaller. "He drove from Henderson, Nevada. 'Far away enough from Las Vegas to keep your money, but close enough to still get in trouble,' he said. I should've known he was older just by the way he talked. I let him drive me around LA. Took him for a walk down Hollywood. We snapped pictures in front of Mann's Theatre, and he bought me a slice of Oreo cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory on Hollywood Boulevard. It was fun. More fun than I'd had in a long time." I lower my eyes. Fidget with the handle of the tea cup. "Until he tried taking me to a motel room."

Alex clears his throat. "I think we've heard enough."

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I didn't let him do anything. And no, he didn't force himself on me or anything. Because I wouldn't let him...you know...he got pissed, so angry with me."

It's not hard to conjure up the memory of Ethan's glowing, hazel eyes turning to stone on me. The way his lips curled into a nasty sneer. How he said, so you just tease guys online for fun?

"I ran from the motel and hopped on the first bus I saw." I lay my hands palms-up in front of me. Like look at me, I'm not lying. Mr. Thatcher's eyes have gone soft. Alex gives me a look I can't quite decipher. Like he's wound tight and ready to pounce.

"By the time I finally got home, Mom was out on one of her dates with God-knows-who. Mercy had tried calling me all day and was worried shitless because I wasn't answering. I lied. Told her my phone died while I was out with Dad, and to quit overreacting. I knew she'd be too chickenshit to call Dad and confront him."

This, of course, led to a massive argument.

"You're always kissing Dad's ass!" Mercy accused. "Always sucking up to Megan."

Megan was Dad's girlfriend. And though she wore too much makeup and cropped shirts that barely covered the bottom of her breasts, I liked her and her childlike giggles.

"If you weren't such a joyless brat, you could come and hang with us instead of sulking here, in the apartment!" I made a big show of it. Rolling my eyes and wagging my finger in her face.

I should've just told her the truth. That I was out with Ethan. If I had, maybe she'd be alive today.

"Ethan stayed in town a few more days." I take another excruciating sip of coffee. "He left a bunch of crazy voicemails and threatening texts."

Tears needle the corners of my eyes. But I have to get it all out. Tell them that I didn't mean for him to find Mercy.

"That weekend it was our turn to go to Dad's house. Mercy didn't want to go. As usual. She claimed to be sick, but I knew she was just being a brat about Dad's girlfriend. I was so annoyed with her. She asked me to make her a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese before I left."

My voice breaks. I don't want to say any more. But something is compelling me to. Telling me that maybe it all needs to be said.

That maybe healing begins once the words rattling inside are finally set free.

"I told her she was a baby," I cry. "That she couldn't wipe her own ass if I weren't around. But I did it. I made her the damn mac and cheese. I burnt it on purpose."

The dam breaks. Looses a tidal wave inside of me that can't be contained.

"I don't know how he found my address!" I wail. "How did he know Mom would be at work? If Mercy would've came with me to Dad's, if I would've insisted, she'd still be alive. If I told her the truth about where I'd been earlier that week, the truth about Ethan's crazy texts...He broke into the apartment while she was sleeping. He thought she was me!"

It all comes rushing back.

The phone call at Dad's. His guttural cry as he crashed to his knees. It sounded like the yelp of a dying dog. How he screamed, "Please, no, no, no..."

Mom's stony glare as the police recounted my texts and phone calls with Ethan. Something clicked off inside of her when they told her about my date with him. I was dead to her. As dead as her eyes.

Mercy's blanched face at the funeral home. The make up person did a good job hiding the strangulation marks. But as I stood above her casket, I couldn't stop imagining what went through her mind as Ethan squeezed the life out of her.

Did she call my name?