Cassie is self-sabotaging, a dry sense of humour, a sultry melody, a sarcastic remark. She's a dead gaze, smudged eyeliner, a garden of withering red tulips, and... an addict. 

Etienne is indecisive, anxious, classically handsome, a teller of great stories. He's a smile that doesn't reach the eyes, a lit cigarette, an alternative rock song, and a bad friend.  

It all started when they were only six years old. And it hasn't stopped. It keeps happening. They weave in and out of each other's lives, with their strange connection to blame. Their bond is both strengthened and weakened by their shared traumas. Their relationship is a ballad about codependency and the electricity of first love. 

Their lives are an unmanageable mess that sees them dwell in the world of drugs, depression, and the multitude of young women being found dead in the Merseyside Area. They each must confront their faith in second chances, fate, and circumstance. 

                                                         ― ― ― ― ― 

 And he's somewhere in the middle. But you can also find him at the beginning, and he'll be waiting for you by the end. He's everywhere. He is good with ropes, great at sketching, addicted to pornographic content. He hates his wife, hates his son, knows how to avoid leaving fingerprints on his victims.

ON MOUNT EVEREST WITH YOU.

"My heart is, and will always be, yours." 


 I never wished death upon Peter Perelman. I did not wish anything upon Peter Perelman, be it good or bad. He had occupied very little space in my conscience the last couple of years. I'd had bigger battles to fight. 


 But I would also be lying if I were to act as if I'd been mature enough to bury my ill feelings towards him and was sorry about his passing. It had quite simply happened, an unfortunate decision taken by an indifferent universe. 


 River had been the only one affected, but he had not been awfully moved. The occasional sigh and an overall crestfallen expression were all that he was willing to give, which fortunately did not bring much discomfort to Ivy and me, who were in the uncomfortable position of having nothing good to say about the recently deceased. 


Chapter Twenty-Eight.