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Summary
Every single night, she remembers the flavor of Lottie’s lips ever so gently grazing hers, still stained in Travis’ blood, the way her thumb would gracefully trace her jaw, one hand softly stroking her face while the other was still holding the knife. Natalie would never forget that moment for the rest of her life, she is quite certain of that.
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Before college, Natalie would make out with boys and get high under the bleachers. She definetely wouldn't lose her sanity and pride over a tall gorgeous tan skinned woman leading a cult of homicidal girls in a homerotic friendship circle who for some reason love dressing in white and wearing cross necklaces.