A few years ago

"I'm glad you made it in time," the police officer said. "We thought you'd be too busy to come at the moment and usually you wouldn't be the person we'd be contacting at the moment, but the victim listed you as the children's official guardian if anything bad were to happen."

Vera could feel the judgement in the officer's eyes. She felt uncomfortable being here where people knew who she was but there was nothing she could do. There were bigger problems to be taken care of at the moment.

"What's your relationship with the victim?"

"She was my best friend," Vera says in a low voice. Was. The word was sharper than a knife and yet, ever so true. Callie was dead. She was never, ever coming back. And Vera could have stopped this. She could've done something. She had seen all the signs and she had known this would lead up to something disastrous like this but now, there were two kids orphaned, a family broken apart. She takes a deep breath. There is one more sentence she thinks she should say. Maybe, she thought, maybe it could lift some weight off my shoulder.

So, she says, "I'm the murderer's sister."

The police officer didn't say anything. "The kids are in there. The older one—Nathan—seems numb. Hasn't uttered a single word in a while. The other one, though, he's young. He's been crying non stop. He's asleep right now, but both of them will need therapy after what has happened."

Vera knew this, of course. "Can I see Nathan?"

The police officer leads her to a room where there is a little boy sitting on the couch, surrounded by a few other people, one of whom is a counsellor. Upon seeing Vera, everyone else slowly leaves the room. The kid looks up, his eyes dull and his face blank.

Kids are not supposed to look dead inside, was the first thought Vera had.

"Nate," Vera whispered. She could feel the tears pricking her eyes but no—she couldn't cry right now. Not right now. Not when she needed to be strong for them. She owed Callie a lot. She needed to do this.

"He thinks I hurt him all this time.," Nate said. His voice was soft and calm, as if he was far ahead of his age. "He thinks I'm the one who hurt him. He thinks...I hurt him. And I just want to let him."

"Nate," Vera says, taking a seat next to him. He looks away at his feet, deep in thought. "What are you saying?"

"Mom tried a lot to make us not hate our dad," he says. "She failed with me. I want to erase all of this from my memory. I want to wake up and want all of this to be a bad dream. She died in front of me. And he—he killed her. Your brother killed her and you know what he does when Sam enters the room?"

Vera was too scared to know. She knew her brother had problems. She was about learning how deep they ran, and how no matter how much she tried, she would never be able to erase how much their time at that house had tainted them. "What?" Her voice was small, nervous.

"He said I did it."

Vera's heart dropped. Her whole world had turned upside down already and if it wasn't enough already, her brother had done it—put the icing on the top. Her heart was hammering so fast, the pit in her stomach growing deeper and deeper as bile rises up her throat.

"He told my brother that I killed my mother."

***

Harley

(Present)

If someone thought that things would get relaxed in a day after the debut, they were one hundred percent wrong. The deductions took place on Saturday, the day when Valeria called in for an all student meet in the studio. Before the seniors arrived, she addressed the first years, putting on a video and pointing out every single mistake made by every individual. I couldn't help but feel Iris' eyes on me—I knew exactly what was going on through her mind.

An hour later, the second and third years made their way to the studio. This was the first time when all the students of the program were sitting in the same room to be debriefed about a performance. Valeria watched all the faces, and when she was sure everyone was there, she cleared her throat. Park swooped in, bringing a screen and a small mic for her, though I doubt she needed that because she has one of those booming voices and authoritative presence. The lights went out, the glow of the screen illuminating the room as a powerpoint presentation loaded.

"We have ten days to prepare for the Shine."

No one utters a word, laser focused. Everybody knew what Shine was—it's currently the most highlighted event on our event calendar. The first official competition for the season. We'll be performing as a whole, representing Redville for the first time.

As a rule, no first year will be getting a smaller group performance in any other category because of lack of experience. The first years need time to adjust to this hellhole and perfect the group performance so that they don't drag everyone else down.

Val goes on to tell us more about the Shine. The qualifiers are on the 18th, 19th and the 20th of this month and if we make it through, we'll get two days of practice before we'll have to perform again for the second round on the 23rd. Val tells us that we need to be prepared for another choreography, since making it past the qualifiers is no big deal for Redville. This rule is only applicable for the overall group performance since it's a category that Redville has to win in, no matter what.

The Shine will end with the finals on the 26th, announcing the winners as well. Since the competition will not take place in our school, we'll be required to stay at the venue for ten days, which is another boarding school similar to Redville.

I let out a sigh as I sit in front of Val in her room. The briefing had taken place yesterday, after which Val had sent me to the school's physical therapist to get my hand checked. It was just basic exercises and the pain was almost gone—so I could fake being nonchalant as the therapist bent my hand in angles that hurt. She made her notes apparently and sent them over to Park today, who was standing in the corner of the room, going through them as Val looked at me like she could read my deepest, darkest secret in my eyes.

"Everything looks good," Park finally says. "She has a green to perform."

"Thank you," I say.

"Everything looks good but how do you feel, Harley?" Val asks me.

"Excellent. Being benched was a good idea, I guess." Val narrows her eyes for a second before shaking her head, a small smile making a way on her lips. She leans back, dropping her formal act for a bit.

"So, you're in for Shine. Considering your skills, it's a pity that I can't give you a solo or a duo with one of the seniors but a rule's a rule. Even though it's not in the books and even though I've been a rule breaker since I was a kid, there are some traditions that need to be respected." I nod, and she lets out a deep breath. "Anyway, it's better if we gatekeep you and not highlight you for the first competition this season. After that, we'll see."

"I understand," I say to her.

Throughout the evening, the studio is bustling with energy. The choreography is introduced and the group practice begins in full swing. Val and Park are in total work mode today, both of them showing no mercy to anyone when they falter. They give out punishments as well—like holding on planks for an incredibly long time or fifty pushups. By the time the practice is over, more half of the first years are having muscle cramps and all they wanna do is leave and take a hot bath.

We're all wrapping up and ready to leave when Val closes the door to the studio, asking us to sit down along the corners and watch the seniors perform their auditions for the other categories. The final list will be decided only through voting and Val's input. I look around at the people—nobody wants to stay for this shit but in the end, we all sit down, dead tired, bodies aching.

The first duo comes in, the music plays and I close my eyes, lean my head back against the mirrored walls, drowning in my thoughts once more.

***

Nate

(Present)

The voting gets over sooner than expected.

The first years were in a real haste to get back to their dorms and sleep in, it seems, but I don't blame them. It was the same for us two years ago. They'll be dying when the night practice starts under Summer, Lily and Ella though. A lot of conflicts, a lot of injuries and a lot of practice. Summer can be wicked when she wants to be and trust me, once you see her like that once, you can never be not afraid of her. There is a reason that she's the best.

The best need to show their worst to be on the top sometimes.

"You guys have an independent entry anyways, yeah?" Park asks, though it sounds more of a statement than a question. "You'll be able to manage, yes?"

"Yeah," Summer mutters, a little bored. "When have we not been able to manage?"

He glances up, pausing from the paperwork he was engrossed in a moment ago. "You're in your final year now. You all have a lot on your plate. I hope you know, Val will kill you if you prioritise the wrong things, no matter how much your dance group benefits the institute. As long as you're in the rehearsal hours under Val, your only focus should be the Redville dance team. Got it?"

I know what he means. We all do.

Summer's jaw clenches. Jacob puts a gentle arm across her shoulder but that doesn't help. Even he looks just as pissed Summer does.

"What are you trying to say?" Summer says.

Park shrugs, getting back to his work. "You know what I mean. Just because nobody talks about it anymore doesn't mean it never happened, you know. All I'm saying is, be careful from here on. If anything goes wrong in this performance, or if we find out that you're sabotaging anything, you're all falling down the ranks."

I drag Summer away before anything else. Only her, Jacob and I were present here thankfully. I'm glad Mason wasn't because then tonight would just turn into him telling us all how we're all making a big mistake. The first years, well, they shouldn't be hearing any of this because rumours spread wilder than anything when you only know half assed shit.

"Calm the fuck down, geez," I mutter, forcing her to look at me eye to eye.

She rolls her eyes. "I'm calm."

"You looked like you would have broken that guy's face," I deadpan.

She just shrugs. "I can have him fired."

"You can't," Jacob reminds her. He throws an apologetic look to me and I flash a small, curt smile. It's not really his fault that he can't hide his expression but he's not as deep in this shit as we are. He doesn't know much and yet, he never asks questions. I'll never be not grateful for that quirk of his.

"See, forget it," I say to Summer. "You have one solo, you have a duo with Lily, and you have a quartet as well. And that's besides the Red Prima and team performance. You need to focus. You can't falter now. It's just one more year."

She considers this for a moment, then relaxes. "You're right. You're right." Her eyes finally soften. "Whatever. Okay. Cool. We'll meet tomorrow morning."

She doesn't wait for me to say anything before she leaves. Jacob follows as well, and in a while, I grab my stuff and make my way outside as well. The cafeteria closes in an hour—I still have time before that. I walk to the back of the studio and drop my stuff, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from my pocket and light it up. I inhale once, the smoke hitting the back of my neck, and in a while, I exhale.

I close my eyes, knowing that what I'm about to do is damn well the craziest thing I've done in a while and yes, that's including everything that happened last year as well.

The voices in the head have been growing lately. I've been overpowered with the memories I want nothing to do with and it's all because of him. How long is it gonna take Vera to file for a goddamn restraining order? And how the fuck am I supposed to keep Sam away from that piece of shit when I've let him hate me for over a decade?

It's my fault. It's all my fault. As Vera had said, letting him villainise me was only going to backfire in the end. By the time I had realised it, he had started to despise me more than anything else in this world.

"Fuck this shit," I mutter as drop the cigarette and crush it under my shoe.

I take out my phone, open Vera's chat and dial the number she sent me last night.

The phone rings a few times before going straight to voicemail. It's the default voicemail—he probably just bought his phone. I call him again, then again, and again but he doesn't pick up. There's no way in hell that he doesn't know it's me contacting him. If he found Sam's phone number, then he can easily find mine as well. He probably even has it saved.

I let out a breath. It's not working out. Nothing ever does for me. I was stupid—so fucking stupid to think that for once, this would go my way. It had always went the way he wanted it to go—the burns on my skin are proof to that—and I have no idea what I can do to turn the fucking tables this one time.

My phone lights up with a text message. My blood runs cold when I read it.

Unknown: You can't stop me from doing what I want, kiddo. You know that just well as I do. And right now, all I want to do is talk to my child. Do not get in my way. You know I don't like it.

I suck in a sharp breath, my heart hammering against my chest. I haven't felt this rush of dread through me in years and I certainly don't want it to cloud my judgement right now.

Nate: you really think it's a good idea to send such texts right after you come out of jail?

Unknown: As hard as it might be to believe, I don't have any bad intentions, kiddo. Jail time does that to you.

Nate: so why don't you fucking pick up my damn call?

The read receipt immediately turns blue. He begins to type, and then suddenly, the symbol disappears. I grip my phone tight, my eyes blurring as I try to push back the memories. Voices come back again, spreading their arms and wrapping them around my mind and my heart, crushing them—no.

I'm not doing this shit. I can't deal with this right now.

I can't.