Seventeen-year-old Silvie’s life has been a cycle of death and resurrection for as long as she can remember, the surgical scar on her chest a constant reminder of the trauma her body has endured.
Her friend Nora is outgoing and assertive—everything that Silvie isn’t, and when she agrees to take them on an adventure, Silvie expects to spend the afternoon driving down backroads. Instead, they wind up in the backyard of an abandoned Victorian mansion, digging holes.
Nora is looking for something she buried, something dangerous, and she insists that Silvie will know what it is when they find it. But there are rules: Don’t scream. Don’t believe what you see. Remember, there’s no such thing as coincidence.
It’s not a coincidence that Silvie and Nora look so similar, that Silvie’s childhood memories are hazy, or the house feels familiar. There’s something inside the old Victorian, in the walls, in the mirrors, and the truth will leave Silvie questioning exactly who—and what she is.
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