The fact that I’d been gone last semester was no secret. I’d spent four months at a private residential facility tucked away near the Cascades, listening to people with rows of degree certificates on their walls explain to me that it wasn’t my fault, that I’d had no choice, that just because I took my knife and sawed through that rope and killed my best friend, that didn’t make me a psychopath. As if I didn’t know that already.
This irks me now that I know what happened to alex
