"Aris," I say shakily. "Let me out of this room."

"Can we play the piano some more?"

Acting like nothing just happened. Is that good or bad?

"Unlock the door first, please," I say. "I won't run off. Just unlock it. I don't feel safe, even though I know you won't hurt me."

Maybe if I talk a lot, I can convince him. Keep playing along with being his best friend. Just do anything to satisfy him, but stay in this room.

He stares at me for a long time. It feels like his eyes are piercing through me, reading every single thought to make sure he's ten steps ahead of me.

He never replies, so I give up. "Never mind," I murmur as I sit down next to him again. Still shaking, I reach out for my phone.

All he does is stare at me. This time, I won't let it stop me. I just slowly unlock my phone. First, I hit a button to record every word that will be said in this room, then I send Thomas another text; that he should call the police after all.

"What do you prefer to be called?" I ask. If I keep his attention on me, maybe he won't notice anyone else walking up the stairs. "Aris or... Jonah?"

"Aris is now my name," he says, and that's all.

"Okay, Aris." I nod. "Can I know some more about your past?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm... interested," I tell him. "You're my friend. I want to know everything about my friend."

He stops moving for a few seconds, then pushes the keyboard off his lap and sits straight up. "I don't know what to say. Ask what you need to know."

"Where are your parents?"

"I have no idea. They abandoned me when I was a kid."

"Who raised you?"

"My dad's friend. That's who they brought me to."

"What was he like?"

"Part of a criminal organization, like my dad. But my parents fled when they had chances of getting arrested. They left me with the friend to get trained, too."

"Trained to take part in the organization?"

"Yes."

I don't think I want to know how that worked.

"Why did you use Indie's book? Why were the kills based on that?"

"Because otherwise, things will get boring soon."

When I slide off the bed, I feel him tense, but he doesn't move. I take The First Stars off Finn's shelf, and sit back down.

"You missed Athena," I say slowly. "Right? She's before Apollo."

"Teresa will be Athena, but I needed her to do some other jobs for me first. Guess Athena will be born last."

I swallow away the protests, nodding. "Okay. Who will be Hermes?"

"Your mom, after she started yelling at me for trying to kill Thomas. Wow, she was upset after Minho with the fuse box. And Evie, damn."

"Please don't kill my mom, nor Minho. Just stop killing the ones I care for— stop killing everyone."

"If they stop taking in your time, sure. And if they don't annoy me, sure."

"What about Dionysus?"

He rubs his chin, frowning a bit. "I'm not sure about that one yet. You have more friends than there are Gods in this book. I'll have to go for the one who takes most of your time."

"Got it." I shift uncomfortably on the bed. "What now? I'm sick of the piano."

"I don't know. I just want to spend time with you."

"Yes," I reply, maybe a little too fast. "We'll spend all the time you want together."

"Thank you," he says, voice soft. It reminds me too much of the Aris he apparently isn't.

"Was all of it an act? Everything?" I ask. "You're not shy? Not unsure about everything? You're not into fantasy, or drawing, or the piano?"

"I meant it when I said you're the nicest person I've ever met," he announces. "That's why you're my friend."

"Your only friend. And you're my only friend," I lie.

"Exactly," he agrees with a satisfied smile. My blood runs cold at it. This guy is insane. Has he always been insane or is did the criminal organization cause him to act like this?

I have so many questions.

"And I do like fantasy, drawing, and the piano," he adds. "Mostly, I like you, though."

I try to mask my nervousness with a small laugh, but it still comes out weirdly. "In what way?" My voice trembles with terror.

Looking down, I find my hands fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. I'm struggling to keep my breaths steady as my heart pounds so hard that it hurts.

He smiles, and there is something so unnervingly calm about it that it makes my skin crawl. "In every way," he says.

The room starts to feel smaller. It closes us in more than the locked door does, and his presence becomes suffocating. Everything in my screams for me to run, but I'm frozen, trapped in this nightmare I refused to believe for so many weeks.

I search his eyes for any hint of the boy he seemed to be before, but all I see is a desire and darkness that I've never seen him wear until now. Not when I gave him the drawing equipment, not when I called him my friend, not when I gifted him a lot of things for Christmas.

I thought he was humble.

"In every way?" I repeat, whispering, as if that will overtop the alarms in my mind.

It won't. Everything I hear are the alarms and everything I feel is him and his twisted devotion.

"Yes," he says. "In every way."

His words hang in the air and before I can process them, he moves closer. My body tenses, yet I'm still paralyzed as he reaches out to touch my face, his fingers cold against my skin.

"Aris," I warn, flinching when he leans in. "Don't."

He's about to say something, but he can't; I've jumped up from the bed, sprinting towards the door. "MOM—"

And then his hand has slammed against my mouth, blocking any sounds from coming out.

"Don't," he says.

Panic surges through me. I nod, eyes so wide I feel like they're going to pop out.

Slowly, Aris removes his hand. I force my lips together. I have to fight back more yells. I can't ruin this.

A careful step closer towards him. And another one, until the tips of my shoes touch his. I'm so close that I want to throw up.

With my heart hammering, I put arms on his shoulders, taking the back of his head with my hands. I look up and down in disgust, but my face will tell him it is desire.

Then he leans in, just like I wanted him to.

As hard as I can, I jerk my knee up, straight into his crotch, and then I fly past him, towards the window.

"MINHO! FINN!" I'm so panicked that I waste time trying to open the window. Once I'm done, Aris has long recovered and he's marching towards me.

Our eyes meet. He grabs my ankle just when I turn my body to jump into the hedge, and another scream leaves my mouth.

Not because of the branches, not because of the height I'm falling from. Because of the pain that's running through my leg right now. When I hit the ground, my eyes get drawn to that leg, even though I should run.

My foot is in a position it should not be. I want to throw up at the sight. Cry at the pain. Scream for more help.

But I've got to do what I'm worst at; run. Run away because he is already climbing out of the window.

Run with a foot that feels detached.

I hope on one foot and use the side of the house's wall as support. I should go to Thomas's. Cross the street, run up the pavement, onto the porch like I've done so many times in my life.

Except I see them cross the street right before I do; Thomas, Gally, and Dan.

And they don't see me. They run towards the front door, not once glaring at the corner of the house.

I'm about to scream for their help, but find my throat blocked, voice failed.

I feel his hand on me again, cold and horrible. His fingers wrap around my throat, cutting off any air I had, and sucking away my hope.

Panic explodes within more, more panic than I have ever felt. My body trashes desperately against his grip. I claw at his hands, attempting to pry them away, but it's like trying to move stone. My good leg hits his a few times, but it doesn't faze him. When I try to reach his crotch again, I just... can't.

The world blurs around me. My lungs scream for air, as if they're on fire, but there's none to be found. Darkness creeps into the edges of my vision.

I can feel my strength ebbing away. My movements become weaker. I'm no longer able to move my leg up, not even a little bit.

Through the fading light, I see his face. The face of a friend who appears to be a traitor. The face on a WANTED Poster.

The face I hope won't be the last one I see before this darkness takes me away.

My thoughts scatter, all reduced to the single will of living. A desperate plea of survival that goes unheard.

As my world slips into complete silence, I watch the faint silhouette of his face fall in surprise; he isn't supposed to kill this one.

But still, the last thing I feel is the pressure of his grip, so cold that it stays until the very end.

☯︎︎

At the beach, I've done and seen and felt many things.

I've built hundreds of sand castles with my best friend. I never argued while making those because we had shared minds; the shells would be placed here, the water would flow here, and the sand would be moved here.

The sun was always bright and warm on our skin. When we were younger, our mommies would force us to put sunscreen on. Once I learned the real benefits at school, I was the one who forced Thomas to put it on, and not our mommies.

The sound of waves crashing against stones faded away when Thomas appeared in front of me. He had ran off somewhere on the beach while I played with some shovels we brought.

His hair was tousled, face white because of a too thick layer of sunscreen, and there was a giant smile on his face. "Hi, Sage," he said. "I found you something with my new goggles. Do you want to see it?"

I nodded. "Yes, please."

He showed me the shell, its spiral pattern glinstering in the sunlight. "Daddy says he can drill a hole in it so you can make a necklace out of the shell."

The scene shifts before I can hear my own reply. We're five years younger now; three years old.

I very vaguely remember this, but it's mostly pictures Mom showed me that make me able to see it.

Thomas and me, both of us still a bit chubby from baby fat, sitting in the sand, looking at the waves. When it touched us, we gasped as if it was an extraordinary thing.

Maybe it was. At least we have the sea, with so many secrets but also memories, which it takes away, burying them deep. Deep that they're still there, but not remembered much, just like in my body.

I'm glad I get to remember them now.

Again, the scene shifts. We're thirteen now, running. He slowed himself down so I was able to catch up. Yet he playfully shoved me now and then, and I shoved him back so hard that he fell into the see fully-clothed.

He grabbed my hand, pulling me with him. We collapsed onto the sand, waves hitting our legs. Lazily, we pointed out clouds.

Another memory surfaces, this one clear and familiar. It hasn't been long since it happened.

Mango, pulling us together before she made us fall. Thomas, on top of me, placing a kiss on my lips. I can still feel the warmth of his touch, even in the cold water.

Then it goes back into time again. We're fifteen now, the time we did not talk to each other much.

Thomas was sitting around a fire with his friends. Finn and I crossed them, our slippers accidentally soaring some sand onto them. We apologized, and they all politely said it was okay.

And then one girl said, "Hey, Thomas, isn't that your girlfriend?"

"What?" His head turned towards her so fast that my face reddened in shame; he clearly couldn't stand the image of being my boyfriend. "No."

"Oh," the blonde girl said, "I thought she was. You always talk about her."

"Evie, that's my sister, you know?"

She turned to my little brother. "Yes, I know, Minho." A pause. "I know you and I know who your sister is."

Before I can hold onto younger Evie and hug her a last time, my mind begins replaying all the memories on the beach with Thomas like a film strip.

I can hear his laughter and see the smile that always makes me feel at home. My heart swells until it's in my throat, and the only way of letting it get less big is dropping a few tears, but I can't seem to do so.

But it's okay. I can feel the love, the friendship, and the innocence of those beachside days.

Even as the darkness approaches once again, I hold onto the sound of his voice, mostly calling my name.