As Good As Dead (A Good Girl's Guide to Murder, #3)

by Holly Jackson

Chalk dust on her fingers, gritty and dry. Except there wasn’t, because she was awake now, her eyes cracking open, dragging her from the dream. Her eyes felt gritty and dry, but her fingers were clean. Pip sat up. It was still dark in her room. Had she been asleep? She must have been asleep, otherwise how had she dreamed? It was all still there, thrumming around her head, like it had all been lived only moments before. But not lived, only imagined, right? It had felt so real. The weight of it in her cupped hands. Still warm, keeping away the cold of the dark night. Its feathers so soft, so sleek against the cage of her fingers. Pip had locked eyes with it, or she would have if it had had a head. She hadn’t thought that strange at the time. That was the way it was supposed to be, as she carried the small dead pigeon across the driveway. So soft she almost didn’t want to let it go. But she had to, and rested the dead bird down on the brick driveway, shifting it so the space where its head should have been was pointing toward her bedroom window. Looking in through the gap in the curtains to watch Pip asleep in her bed. Both here and there. But it hadn’t finished there. There was more to do before she could rest. Another task. The chalk had already been in her hand, not nearly as nice to hold as the dead pigeon. Where had it come from? Pip didn’t know, but she knew what she was supposed to do with it. She’d retraced her steps, remembering where the last ones had been. Then she...

is it her subconscious she’s doing it herself. idk. probably crazy