Grace had anorexia. The words ring through my head when silence smothers me. They scream at me, blaming me, demanding to be heard. I didn't mean to kill her. I didn't know. Sometimes I wish I could just turn back time, just to take a step back and look at her. See it in real life. All the signs, the warnings: the hollow cheeks, the sharp ribs, the bony elbows, the empty eyes. Maybe, if I'd seen them, then I wouldn't have said the things I said, or done the things I did.