Twenty-one year-old Maddie Asherford is haunted by a past she can’t remember. When she was fifteen years old, there was a tragic accident and she was left with amnesia.
In the aftermath, Maddie’s left struggling with who she is—the forgotten girl she was six years ago or the Maddie she is now. Sometimes it even feels like she might be two different people completely—the good Maddie and the bad one.
Good Maddie goes to therapy, spends time with her family, and works on healing herself. Bad Maddie rebels and has dark thoughts of hurting people and sometimes even killing them.
Maddie manages to keep her twisted thoughts hidden for the most part. That is until she starts having blackouts. Each time she wakes up from one, she’s near a murder scene with no recollection of what happened the night before and this helpless feeling like she’s losing control of her life. Maddie doesn’t want to believe she’s a killer, but she begins to question who she really was in her past. If she was bad Maddie all along and that maybe she was a killer.
The New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Jessica Sorensen, lives in the snowy mountains of Wyoming. When she's not writing, she spends her time reading and hanging out with her family.
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“I’m afraid,” I admit aloud and shudder at the truth. Because of not necessarily afraid of the danger the crying could lead to, but how much I like that it could. My thoughts drift to what the crying could be. Someone hurt? Someone upset? Someone locked up who I could hurt?
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I ask as the last thought streams through my head. I start to back away, tugging at my hair, but invisible strings tug me forward, toward the crying. At this moment, I’m a puppet and Lily is my puppeteer and suddenly she’s in front of me, taking my hand and tugging me down the bare hallway. She leads through the stale air until we reach the end where there’s a single shut door. Light is slipping through the cracks underneath and cries are flowing from the outside. Pain. Whoever’s in there is hurting.
“I don’t want to see,” I whisper in horror as my trembling hand reaches for the doorknob.
“You need to see,” Lily insists.
My fingers brush the brass knob. A jolt of heat shoots up my arm as I turn it and push it open. Light spills over me. Screams pierce my ears. Something flies at me that’s heavy and strong. Pain. Heat. Tears. Blood. My insides feel like they’re ripping out of my body.
“You killed me.”
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