Wouldn’t they have found some of Phoebe’s blood on Kelsie? And if they were now blaming me for it, why didn’t they find blood on me?

Hm.

I didn’t really think they thought it was me, at least, for sure. I was a suspect, and a witness. I understood what my mom had been telling me. I did have to behave for a while, just so that they wouldn’t grow more suspicious.

She didn’t want me to be “good.” She wanted for me to be perfect. At the time, being good just wasn’t good enough. The policeman with the mustache had seen my lip piercing and probably automatically gone to the assumption that I was guilty.

My bandage was still tied tightly around my forehead, which didn’t really make any sense. I went to the bathroom and pulled it off, even though they told me not to.

The cut was centered in the middle of the back of my head, and wasn’t really gruesome, but..

..my hair! A patch, right around the cut, was shaved off. The cut, I could care less about, but my hair?!

Kelsie was dead to me.