Book 18: You All Along

Skye

I sleep through the night and wake to the grainy red numbers on the clock on Alex’s bedside reading 8:43 A.M.

I don’t normally sleep this late. I’m usually in my office by now, or in one of the lecture halls or research centers, but right now, I’m curled under a thick blanket that smells like Alex, resting my head on his pillow, watching the minutes tick by on his clock.

When I slide out of his bed, the door to his bedroom is ajar, but not by much. I realize with a small squeak that I’m in my underwear and the sweater I wore yesterday, but in the same instant, I notice the sweatpants and sweatshirt resting on the edge of the bed, neatly folded, with a new, sticky bandage for my knee on top.

So, this all really happened. It wasn’t a bad dream.

I killed my great-grandfather. My be