My hands were stained pink from the blood—crimson crescents beneath my nails. The red clung to the lines of my palms, and I wondered for a moment what a palm reader would say about the patterns. I sent a prayer up to whatever god would listen, telling them not to punish me too hard in my next life for what I had just done. The devil made me do it. 

     As I stared at the drip stains, I recalled a different memory: two little girls playing in the shallow edges of the woods, a sharp rock, slicing palms, and the joining of two tiny hands. The binding words: friends forever. There’s something possessive about female friendships. It was there in the grip of her hand on mine, our blood mingling. You’re mine, her eyes seemed to say. 

     I believe there is a moment some of us experience, guided by Fate’s hand. A definitive moment that we stand on the precipice of and decide if we will turn back or take a running leap to find out what is on the other side. 

     Looking at myself in my bathroom mirror, I shuddered, turned on the faucet, and watched the red flow down the drain. 

Earlier 

The doorbell rang just as the oven timer went off. Lightning flashed, washing the room in white, then vanishing like the blinking of some divine eyes. Thunder snapped, rattling the windows. Roderick’s stupid orange cat yowled and dashed under the couch. 

     That statistical anomaly of events probed a feeling within me that something terrible would happen. Goosebumps rose on my arms and spread across my body.

     “Rick, would you get that?” I shouted, fitting my hands into oven mitts. Silence. “Rick!” Still no answer. I cursed under my breath. He was probably playing his stupid video games. I thought I could hear him yelling into his headset, and for the hundredth time this month, I thought about breaking up with him. It hadn’t been working in a while. We skirted around each other like roommates, going as far as to ask whether we could eat the other’s cereal. I removed the cakes I had been working on from the oven; the scent of apple and cinnamon filled my apartment, and I made my way to the entrance door. My fingertips touched the knob when the stranger on the other side started banging on the door. 

     I swung the door open. Shock rooted me in place. I was staring into the face of Medusa. My limbs turned cold, my breath caught in my throat, and the thump of my heart seemed to still. I must have turned to stone. Because the person standing before me—the person who was the last person I would ever expect to be on the other side of this door looked up at me, offered a shy smile, and said: “Hey, friend. Did you miss me?” And I thought: This is a dream. I slipped and fell and am now in some screwed-up nightmare where this person—whom I loathe—had the goddamn audacity to see me after all these years. 

     She had a little smile plastered on her face. “You gonna let me in, darling?” I would have believed that expression once. But now I can see the cracks—can see where the crude stitching is. This was a mask. Face paint—the facade of a manipulator. Jade was a master puppeteer, and the world was her stage.

     I bet she thought it made her look innocent. I bet it was a smile many took as she meant it to be taken: girlish and non-threatening. Place a halo on her head, and she’d look damn near angelic. But I knew her. I knew her tics, her MO. 

     “What the hell are you doing here?” My voice carried the same bite as the thunder rumbling in the background. 

     Her expression didn’t change. She only looked mildly perturbed that I hadn’t welcomed her with open arms. “Now, is that any way to treat a friend?” 

     “We’re not friends. Haven’t been in almost a decade.” 

     She tapped a manicured finger to her lips, the polish a simple baby pink. “Hmm, has it been that long?” 

     “Not long enough.” There was a primordial urge to reach out and snatch the words back. “Ouch, that hurts my feelings,” Jade said, but the words sounded amused and vaguely mocking. 

     “You don’t have feelings.” 

     “Of course I do.” She tilted her head ever so slightly like a wounded puppy. “What a mean thing to say, Ronnie. You used to be so nice.” Nice coming out of her mouth was an insult. I narrowed my eyes but didn’t say anything, instead moving to close the door, satisfaction prickling my skin at the thought of being able to slam it in her face. Except—“Ronnie.” 

     That’s all Jade said, but it struck a chord within me. One that was out of tune and rusty, one that hadn’t been played in a decade. There was a desperation in her voice. It was enough to give me pause. 

Jade took two steps toward me; my legs twitched with the urge to step back. Her red Mary Janes stopped before the threshold until she was face-to-face with me. We were nearly the same height. Jesus, she hadn’t changed a bit. She leaned in, almost like she was about to bestow a kiss—or share a secret. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. “Let me in, babe.” I inhaled sharply. That was a threat. 

     “Please. You’re the only one I can trust.” It was her expression that did me in. Because it wasn’t stoic or smug, it wasn’t sweet like she made it when she wanted something. Pretty, pretty please, with sugar on top. She was scared. I had never seen her afraid. Jade’s eyes bored into mine. “Invite me in.” 

Those words rattled through me. Invite me in. Like a vampire awaiting permission to enter someone’s house. I would regret this. 

​

     “How did you find me?” Her eyes traveled around my apartment, taking everything in. I was going to have to sage the place later. 

     I looked at her expectantly. Her tongue darted out, swiping against her upper lip. The movement caught my eye and felt strangely predatory, like a snake tasting the air. “Instagram. You tagged your bakery. Your mail has your home address—not smart.”

     I scowled. What did I expect? That Jade had been stalking me in a baseball cap and Versace sunglasses, sitting outside my place in her car, and writing down my movements so she could strike? Actually, yes, that was what I was expecting. 

     “I’m not going to ask again, Jade. What do you want?” She held up a picture. I stared at it, panic roiling in my gut. “I thought you’d burned that.” 

     Her face was smug. “Did you believe me? Cause if you did, not only are you an idiot, but you must not have known me as well as you thought.” Sometimes I felt like I had never known her, even when we were kids. She was always an abyss; the further down I climbed, the darker it got and the more mysterious she became. So I stopped trying and became content with the version she would allow me to see and loved her anyway. 

     I glanced at the picture again. “I wasn’t the only one there.” 

     “No, but you are the only one in the picture. I wonder what the chief of police will say when he receives this in the mail? The infamous cold case of 2012. Property damage to his house via fire. You nearly burned him alive.” 

     “Screw you. Who’s idea was it? Who was the scorned teenager who found out her mother was having an affair with him?” I bit out between clenched teeth. 

     Jade made a pouty face, mocking me. She leaned back like a cat who had eyes on its prey. “But who lit the match?” I was quiet. She cleared her throat. “I’m cashing this in. I need your assistance. When we’re done, I’ll give it back to you to do with what you want.” 

     I heard Rick shouting like a twelve-year-old in the room, thought about spending another day shuffling around each other, avoiding the fact that we were starting to hate each other. She flashed the photo at me again, smiling coyly. “So what do you say, Ronnie?” Images flashed before me: pinkies interlocked. Kissing either side of our enclosed fists, still sore from the cuts we made in them. The belly laughs that only children are capable of. Friends forever—a promise. 

​

     “Where are we going?” 

     We had driven in Jade’s car. The sun had set when Jade pulled over and parked. The woods around us were dense. We were in the middle of nowhere. Jade undid her seatbelt and got out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition. “What are we doing here?” Wherever here was. 

     I followed her to the back of the car. The red lights illuminated her, casting her face in strange shadows. Her hair had curled lightly from the humidity.“I need you not to scream,” she said. I felt my stomach sink. “Okay, Ronnie?” I gulped but nodded. 

     She pressed a button, and the trunk popped open. I slapped a hand to my mouth to stifle the shout that threatened to claw its way out from my throat. I felt the lump and how it choked me as I swallowed it. I turned away and gagged, sputtering. “What—what the fuck, Jade?” I managed to get out. My stomach clenched, and I thought I might pass out. 

     There was a body in the trunk. It was lying, contorted, and bloated with death on a bed of trash bags. Jade looked at me, her gray eyes void of anything human. “I told you I needed you.”

     “You killed him?” I don’t know why I said that; it was obvious she did. There was blood pooling out of his mouth and dribbling down his chin. His shirt was soaked. I couldn’t even tell where the death wound was. 

There was a chance he had been attractive. Light brown skin with tan lines suggested he might have been the outdoorsy type. His nose was straight, his jaw sharp and lined with a shade of stubble. His honey-brown eyes stared. Horror was forever etched on his deceased face. Jade watched my reaction with attentive eyes.         There was a ringing in my ears. “Why?” She just shrugged. “Why?” 

     “He was abusive.” 

     “Why not call the police? Why not say it was self-defense?” Jade’s eyes were stone. I looked back at the body, the amount of blood, the splatters around his face. It wasn’t self-defense. I ran. I knew it was futile, knew I was acting like those girls in the cheesy horror movies, running away from their perpetrators when they knew damn well it wouldn’t end in their favor. But this was too much. I knew Jade had some psychotic tendencies. I noticed it when we were kids. When the neighbor's dog went missing, and she didn’t bat an eye. But I couldn’t handle this. 

     There was a tug on my hair, and my head whipped back. I tried to move, but a searing pain lit up my scalp from the grip Jade had on it. “You killed someone,” I panted. Jade’s face was eerily stoic. Her black hair formed a curtain around our faces, blocking any light. “Was he really abusive?” 

     Jade cocked her head like a hawk, nails digging into my head. She glanced at the body with hate. “Yes.” Protectiveness shot through me. She blinked, and the emotion was gone. “I need you to help me bury the body.” 

     We got back into the car, and she started driving again. Was it worth it? The pictures she had were from ten years ago. Except we lived in the only state where the statute of limitations for property damage was ten years—Rhode Island. This is wrong. I looked at her profile. Her face was one I had once known better than my own. One I had loved. Friends forever. I rubbed the scar on my palm. 

     Eventually, she pulled into a street I knew. Jade parked in front of a classic red-brick house. Orange poppies were scattered around a billowing Weeping Willow. A tire swung from a sturdy oak tree like a hanged body. The place, just like Jade, hadn’t changed. I remembered running around these trees, screeching as Jade chased me. I remember catching fireflies and drinking cinnamon cocoa on the porch steps. “You still live here?” She nodded but didn’t say anything. When she opened the trunk again, I peered at the body, feeling numb. “What was his name?” She just tilted her head and looked at me in a way that said does it matter? “You want heads or tails?” Jade pointed at the body. 

     Jade’s house is six acres filled with apple trees and is right near the woods, with no neighbors in sight. A creek ran through the south part of the house where we used to see deer drink from in the summer.

     We grunted as we carried the body of John Doe to the outskirts of the woods where we used to play—toeing our way past the boundary Jade’s mother had set for us. We crossed it many times anyway, just like we do now. I only ever did anything audacious whenever Jade was involved. We got to a spot where wild mushrooms grew. Little brown shoots formed a small perfect circle. The wildflowers did not dare to enter it. Jade stepped right into it and said, “Here’s good.” I shuddered at her arrogance. Don’t step in fairy circles, I remembered her mother telling us. 

     “You’re kidding me, right?” I asked after realizing what this spot was. Jade cocked her head. “You are truly sick. You know that?” She didn’t say anything, just winked as she walked away, coming back a few minutes later with shovels. She tossed one at me. I couldn’t help but look at the old pine tree where we’d cut our palms and joined hands, promising to be best friends forever. Burying a body here felt macabre. 

     When the sun started to rise, we had just finished placing dirt onto the corpse. We were muddy and sweaty. “Where’s the murder weapon?” I asked as it dawned on me that I hadn’t thought to ask. Jade swiped her head, leaving a smear of blood on her forehead. With her gray eyes and dark hair, she looked like Lilith, the Demon queen. She smirked. “Don’t worry, darling. I tossed it.” 

     Jade dropped me off a block from my apartment. I felt icy numbness throughout my body. I feared I would never feel anything again. We stood outside my building. The morning sun made the sky soft and gray. The scent of last night’s rain hung heavy in the air. I held my hand out. “The pictures.” 

     Jade tilted her head, her storm-hued eyes gleaming with amusement. “I think I’ll hang on to them.” 

     “What do you mean?” I bit out. I felt rage within me, licking at my inside like white-hot flames. “I did what you asked. You said—you said,” I sputtered. 

     Jade just smiled. And you believed me? 

     I pressed my hands to the sides of my head because the world was spinning, letting out a deranged laugh. “I was fine before you came banging on my door! I was happy. I have my own business and—” 

     Jade’s face pinched with rare anger, and she snapped. “Oh, please. Happy? Happy! You think you were happy?” She threw her head back and laughed. “Darling, I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, but I know you. Baking your fucking cakes, staying in a dead relationship. Living your dreary life.” I wondered how she knew everything. “You weren’t happy, baby. You were just waiting for something—anything exciting to hit you. A bus crashing into you would have done the job if nothing good did. 

     “I just made your life exciting again. You are nothing without me. Stagnant. I was always the one to push you.” 

     “So murder was your way to go about that?” 

     Jade smiled, her genuine smile—finally. A slow tilt of her lip, the definition of a sneer. “I wanted to see if you were still loyal.” I stepped closer to her, clenching my fists to keep from wrapping them around her neck. “The only way you move, Veronica, is when I push you. You need me. Tell me you don’t.” 

     “I don’t need you,” I said, but the words fell flat, and by the winning gleam in her eyes, she heard it too. She leaned in, sanctimonious, and gently kissed my cheek. My heart quickened, and sweat beaded on my forehead and palms. My blood rushed to my core like my body was trying to prepare me for something: fight or flight. Or freeze, which is what I did. The devil left her mark on me. 

     “I’ll see you around, Veronica.” She leaned back, her smile curving like a scythe. Then she got in her car and drove off. I walked back into my apartment in a daze. It felt off. Like when you go on vacation and come back home, and all your furniture seems to have moved a centimeter. Like nothing is technically out of order, but the smell is different, and the lighting is weird. I turned slowly in a circle until my eyes caught on something on my table. 

     I felt like a phantom as I walked over, dread coursing through me. I grabbed the kitchen knife next to the box and sliced the tape open. Inside was a small circular cake in a plastic container. I pulled it out. Bile crept up my throat. 

     The cake was decorated simply with frosting white and pristine like freshly fallen snow. BFF’s Forever was scrawled on the top in blood-red letters. There was a note inside the box on baby pink paper. Now we really are partners—Kisses, J.D. 

     My hands shook as I read and reread the note. My eyes drifted to the kitchen knife I held, and realization struck me. This wasn’t a knife from my set. “Fuck.” 

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. What if your best friend was the enemy?

​