A burst of pain shot down Sienna’s arm when she rolled over, and she opened her eyes. The sun was pouring in through her curtains. Groaning, she reached down and rubbed at her skin. Her fingers caught on something sharp and she grasped the jagged edge and pulled.

Ouch!

She held it up, squinting in the light. A small piece of glass had been lodged in her elbow. As the sunlight glinted off the shard, the night before flooded back and she gasped, flinging the glass across the room. The one she could still feel in her foot could join it later.

That didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Anger surged through her and she grabbed the first thing her hands touched and watched as her tablet followed the piece of glass, colliding with her bedroom wall and shattering. The rage left her as quickly as it had arrived and Sienna sunk back into the bed, pulling the duvet over her head. She couldn’t face the world, she didn’t deserve to, not after the way she’d left things with her mother. If she’d known those would be their final moments . . . she should have told her how much she appreciated everything, should have told her mother she loved her, for fuck’s sake!

Instead she was here, in an empty house, with no idea what she was going to do. The police had eventually left, hours later, leaving her living room littered with remnants of their investigation; a broken piece of police tape fluttering from the door, a smudge of fingerprinting dust on the mantle. The body had been cleared away after the initial investigation, but it was still there in her mind, burned into the back of her skull. It was never going to leave.

She rolled over, burrowing deeper under the covers. She’d already lost any hope of her mother’s murder being solved any time soon. After asking her a bunch of standard questions and showing her a couple of photos of people she didn’t recognize, the small army that had invaded her house disappeared quickly, leaving her sitting on the steps staring at the dark patch on the carpet.

That was never going to come out.

She’d eventually gone to bed as the first rays of dawn hit the skyline. It felt as if she’d never sleep, but now the room was full of sunlight. Light Sienna didn’t want to see or feel. She stayed buried under the covers for hours, but eventually her body won out. She wasn’t hungry, really—Sienna doubted she ever would be again—but her stomach felt empty and there was a vague tug in her mind that food would be a good idea. Emerging from her bed, she shuffled across her floor and opened her bedroom door, closing her eyes again immediately, her breath leaving her in a rush. She couldn’t look at the pictures that decorated the hallway walls, especially the larger one of her and her mom at the head of the staircase. She definitely couldn’t look at the table with the little vase of flowers hovering near the front door. She’d been there when her mother had bought them. They’d had lunch at Sienna’s favorite restaurant that day; her mother’s attempt to reconnect.

She should be out there, doing what the police weren’t—hunting the sick fuck who killed her mother. Instead, she barely had the strength to walk to the kitchen. She tiptoed past the mess on the floor with the hope that she was dodging most of the glass shards, closing her eyes as she passed by where her body had lain. It didn’t matter. She was everywhere, even in the kitchen, even though the smell of cleaning fluids overpowered any residual baking scents today. Sienna sat on a stool at the breakfast bar and let her eyes drift closed again, imagining her mom standing in front of her, breakfast ready. They’d been very different people, but Laura had tried her best. She’d never shared the reason for her overprotective rules, but now, faced with a lifetime of never hearing her mom speak again, it didn’t seem all that bad after all.

A chill went down Sienna’s spine. Why had someone killed her mom? Had there been a reason? She shook the thought away. No, they were just regular people living in a regular suburban house. If there’d been anything else to it, she would have seen some evidence in nearly two decades. She didn’t remember much before five years old, from before they’d moved here. But that was the same for every kid, wasn’t it?

She walked over to the fridge and looked inside, nearly slamming the door shut again. Sitting front and center was a plate, all made up with friend chicken, mac and cheese, and a little pile of coleslaw. After Sienna had yelled at her mother and blown her off, storming out the door, Laura had calmly gone to the kitchen, ate alone, and then put together a plate for her daughter. Sienna’s hands shook as she pushed the door closed. She couldn’t do this. This wasn’t a home anymore. The body might be gone, but the house was forever now a tomb.

If she wasn’t going to eat, then she could at least try to get out the last of the glass that was still pricking her skin. After trudging back up the stairs, she grabbed some clean clothes and went to the bathroom. Stepping under the water, she scrubbed herself raw, washing away every last particle of the night before. In her mind, the water swirled red. She rinsed and dried as quickly as she could, and then went back to her room, dressed, and then sat on the end of the bed.

Now what was she supposed to do? She stood, walking to the hall, almost drifting, until Sienna realized she was standing in front of her mother’s bedroom door. She reached out and pushed the door open, stifling a cry when her mother’s scent hit her. It was stronger here, and comforting, unlike the tang of death that blanketed the rest of the house. Her green flowered bedspread was laid out perfectly, unlike Sienna’s, which was usually a pile on the floor. Lace curtains blew softly in the breeze that passed through the open window, almost like a whisper. She walked to the bed and lay down, letting her head rest lightly on the pillow. The scent was even stronger there. Her gaze caught a single strand of hair, stuck to the edge of the pillowcase. She stared at it as it moved softly in the breeze flowing through the room. That was as close as she was ever going to get to her mother again.

Sienna felt her eyelids droop. She ran her fingers along the edge of the comforter. She should get up and look under the bed. There was a treasure trove under there, her mother’s most cherished possessions, which would become her own. It had been years since she’d looked inside her mom’s old photo album. Somehow, now it was all she could think about. Laura had decorated it herself, with white lace edging and blue padding on the corners.

When she was younger, Sienna had sat for hours, asking her mom the story behind all the photos. A ghost of a smile crossed her face. There was the picture from when they’d gone hiking when she was nine. It had been her first time, and Sienna had loved every second of it. Then there was her baby picture with her first ice cream cone. Laura was smiling happily behind her. Sienna had as much ice cream on her hands as on her face. In that album—somewhere under the bed—was the proof that she and her mother had lived wonderful lives, too, that it hadn’t always been a fight. She should get up and find it, but she couldn’t find the strength. Instead, she let her eyes close and sleep take her. Maybe in here, surrounded by memories, her mother’s spirit would find her and give her a little respite. The memory of the way she’d left the night before slammed in Sienna’s mind.

Don’t count on it. You don’t deserve it.