It was an accident, she tells people. It isn’t the truth, but what’s the point in telling the truth?
No one’s ever believed her anyway.
Besides, if she’s honest with herself – does she even know the truth?
The memories are murky, photographs obscured in the developing fluid. Double exposed – an innocent child and a demonic interloper.
She can’t remember which face she saw in the mirror when she drove into the river.
All she knows is that when she looked back, nothing came up out of the water.
It was an accident, she tells people.
Maybe it was after all.