Though she could never prove it, Ophelia was almost entirely sure Olive had been trying to get rid of her for weeks. Her previously cold and disinterested aunt had started spending more time with her, making special meals for her, handing her pills when she was sick. 

Sometimes, Ophelia would find the gas stove still lit, its fumes warping the air around it. Electrical cords would be placed inches away from the bathtub, just itching to be pushed into the water. The worst, though—the one that kept Ophelia up at night—was the new slab of stone that had appeared in their cemetery…and the seemingly Ophelia-sized hole waiting beneath it.