“I used to sleep with it every night, too,” I murmured into her hair. “Why do you think she does it?” That was Mina. I turned. “What?” She smiled. “She saw that you slept with it underneath your pillow when you were still alive,” she said. “She may have been really young, but she remembered. The night that you died, she stole that and slept with it. And has been ever since.”
