As I head back to my bungalow, my mind drowns in thoughts of Chloe. For five whole years, she was a member of the Belladonnas, a believer in Eto, one of the family. Then, she dies, and the girls barely blink an eye, accepting a replacement at the snap of their fingers. I knew my twin for four hazy years of childhood, yet I continued to think of her for most of my life. And when I couldn’t connect to her, when she abandoned me, I filled her image with hatred and envy because I couldn’t fathom a life where she didn’t take up space in my mind. That’s how much she mattered to me. That’s what being
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