In a way, Cora doesn’t think that should be allowed. If you want someone dead, you should have to sink your fingers into their eyes, feel their trachea collapse under your hands, let them scratch your arms and pull your hair and cry and beg. Because if you kill someone, you should want it more than anything you’ve ever wanted before. It shouldn’t be easy. Whoever killed Zihan Huang wanted it. There are stray ribs and intestines and even a lock of hair floating in all the blood. There’s so much of it—the downstairs neighbors called in a mysterious stain on their ceiling, and that was how the
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