50 reviews and 2000 clicks!! I love you all- thanks for giving me so much encouragment. I am having such fun writing these... Don't forget to keep on reviewing, and to keep on enjoying.

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Everyone is staring as though I were a circus animal.
I thought I was done being the public victim.

Wrong.

Aunt Amelia murdered. Why does He-who-must-not-be-named hate my family so?

He destroyed so much that night; one of the only things left is a book inscribed in flowery letters "To A. Bones- Love"—just a tantalizing clue we'll never get to ask—with a small pressed lily inside the covers.

I'm scared to touch it; I don't want the petals to crumble, to destroy her again.
Instead, I'm wearing a necklace with a tiny glass flower right over my heart.