“You know what you are.” “I don’t. I swear.” He drew a finger knife across his neck, then mimed sticking the fingers of his right hand in the wound and drawing the skin up, up, up over his head. My jaw shook as he stared at me, waiting for a reaction. “That thing you call a sister is a monster,” he said as he pointed at Grey, “but at least she let you forget that.” Forget this, Grey had whispered to me. “Forget what?” Gabe was circling me now. I tightened my grip on my knife. “That you are a dead thing walking around wearing the skin of a murdered girl,”
