Presidents, actresses, children of famous people—everyone. I knew I would likely cross the threshold of Silver Hills at least once in my life. I had hoped it would be more graceful and under better circumstances than someone’s husband being murdered. I carried the flowers and Lindsey carried the chocolates from Munson’s. She smiled and looked like we were meant to be there, something she had lectured me on for the entire car ride. But I didn't belong there. I didn't smile and fit in. I was stressed. I was even sweating, thinking about getting caught for being in the hospital under false pretenses. I racked my brain to try to recall if that was an offence of any sort. The large country-club look to the hospital, along with the staff’s ability to actually keep a secret, made this place the crème de la crème of mental wards. “Is that the guy from that movie with the aliens?” Lindsey leaned in. I narrowed my gaze and nodded. “Yeah. I read that he was fighting some addictions.
