"Do you really think you can protect her... from herself?"
He heard the voice echo inside him, but he knew exactly where it came from.
Frida was getting closer and closer to the truth. It was only a matter of time before she uncovered it all herself. He stared at her thoughtfully, torn between fear and inevitability.
"What's the matter, Laz?"
"Don't you trust me?" she asked, staring him straight in the eye.
"It's not about trust, Frida... Honestly, if it were, this would be so much easier." He groaned, rubbing his temple. "It's just... too hard to explain."
She gripped his hand tighter, her eyes blazing with desperation. "Then talk to me, God damn it, Laz! Make all this make sense!"
"You killed Shelly."
The words slipped from his mouth like acid, and her whole world stopped.
Surely, he was joking.
He had to be joking.
He didn't mean what he just said—did he?
