Scent of Tears
The cell’s vibration against the glass top was just as insistent as the buzzing had been. I’d switched the damn thing to silent mode after the third call. I should have turned off the vibration. If I had, maybe I could have ignored the phone call. Instead I stared at the caller ID: Prescott Memorial Clinic.
After the third ignored call I’d looked them up. Their website said the clinic was a facility designed to help clients make adjustments to integrate into society. A mental institution with an upscale name in Atlanta North. It wasn’t a place I knew about, or a place that would know me. Which meant only one thing.
Dear, sweet Lizzie. My loving sister. My identical twin. She had to be the reason behind the calls. Somehow. So I ignored them, just like I ignored all of Lizzie’s harebrained ideas, her kinks and quirks, all of her invitations to join her for a “fun-filled weekend” on the farm.
But five calls?
I picked up.
Mirrored from Circlet Press: Welcome to Circlet 2.0.