This is the peak of what I would call “crooked girlhood.” It’s a stark reminder of being 13 and loving things so desperately, so destructively, they turned to ash. This sort of warped adolescence is often forgotten as you progress through adulthood. Tate does a stunning job at bringing back into the possessive and questioning minds of the guilty and blameless. It’s told partially in memories of the disappearance and partly in current consequences. The writing has a foggy, dreamy, detached quality that shrouds the story in a thick fog. I enjoyed this a lot tbh. I found the end a bit confusing, but I do think this is something that would benefit from multiple reads.