There Is No Devil Sinners Duet Book 2 By Sophie Lark-pdfread

The grass is unwatered and uncut, the garden beds nothing but bare dirt.
I have to ring the bell several times before I hear the shuffling sounds of
someone moving inside the house.
At last the door cracks open, and I see an eye pressed against the space,
peering out suspiciously.
For a second, she doesn’t recognize me.
Then she pulls the door wide, straightening up, blinking in the garish spring
sunshine.
I almost wouldn’t recognize her, either.
She’s chopped her hair to shoulder length, frizzy and uneven. Threads of gray
run through, poorly covered by an at-home dye job. She’s gained weight,
enough that she fills out the baggy oversized sweatshirt that once belonged to
me. As faded as it’s become, I still remember that retro Disney logo on the
front. I never actually went to Disneyland—I bought the hoodie at a thrift
shop, hoping other kids would think I’d been.
Makeup from the night before cakes around her eyes, settling in the wrinkles
beneath. The lines are deep, etched in place from every ugly expression she’s
carried, hour after hour, day after day, all these years.
Her face bears record of every scowl, every sneer. No smile lines at the
corners of her eyes—only trenches on her forehead, between her eyebrows,
and in marionette lines running from her nose to the edges of her mouth.
She’s become a witch from a fairy tale. Transformed by misery. The darkness
inside finally reflected on her face.
Those gray-blue eyes still glitter with malice. The same color as mine—cold
as San Francisco fog blowing in off the bay.
A part of her will always be in me.
But I choose which part.
“Hello Mom,” I say.
I can see her struggle.