Chapter 7 · She Knew My Mom

I couldn't breathe.

The screen was frozen on that image—my mom's face, young Kira beside her, both staring straight at the camera like they knew we'd be watching. Like they were waiting.

"That's not me," Kira said again. Her voice came out tight. "I swear to God, Layla, that's not—"

"Then who the hell is it?" I shoved the laptop away. It slid across the coffee table and nearly went over the edge. Kira caught it. Her reflexes were still fast even when she looked like she wanted to throw up.

She set the laptop down carefully. Didn't look at me. "Echo. It has to be Echo."

"Echo can look like you? Like, exactly like you?"

"I don't know." She rubbed her face with both hands. "I've never seen it do that before. It mimics the dead. That's what it does. It takes their faces, their voices, their—"

"My mom's not dead."

The words came out flat. I didn't even mean to say them. They just landed between us like a brick through a window.

Kira's hands dropped. She looked at me, and I hated the expression on her face. Pity. Guilt.