"This is a safe place," her hands intertwined, "You can tell the truth here."
As opposed to everywhere else, I thought, where I'm an unreliable fake?
She breathed out heavily, wanting me to talk, "So, where would you like to start?"
I shrugged.
"Well, what did you do last weekend?"
Really? My mother's practically paying for a diary. I look at her with a chilly stare.
She plasters on a smile, "Safe place, remember?"
I clear my throat, "I was at Evelyn's house."
There is no Evelyn, and if she calls me out on that I'll say Christian.
Christian - Christmas. Evelyn - Eve. Merry Christmas, Daddy.
"Is Evelyn a friend of yours?" She plays along.
I scoff, "No, a stranger with a really nice loft."
"There's no need for sarcasm, Elizabeth."
My fists tighten, "Liz."
"I'm sorry?"
"It's Liz."
Elizabeth died December 25th.