The press conference went by in a flashing blur. I couldn't help but blink rapidly whenever a reporter snapped a photo of me. Pierce Prescott stood behind me, his fake grin meant to swank the presses into believing our tale. My mom stood teary-eyed beside me, along with my silent and staring father. I could only imagine the thoughts circulating through their heads: I can't believe my daughter is wanted for murder.

I said the speech just as we practiced, refraining from making it sound too rehearsed. I had no problem with letting tears flow forth, for all I had to do was imagine Carson's limp body. "When was the last time you saw Carson?" a reporter asked when my opening speech was finished.

"I saw him the weekend before...before it happened," I replied. "We went to the park, like we usually did."

"Do you know who may have killed Carson?" another reporter inquired, and in unison, reporters aimed their microphones and readied their cameras. I was amazed at their lack of concern and their ultimate goal: find out the truth--or, find out the most appealing truth.

"No...I don't know. The only thing that I can hope for is that the police find the real killer," I said like the mourning fiancé that I was. "I don't know who would've wanted to kill my Carson, but...but all I want is for them to be brought to justice."

"Do you have anything to say to Carson's killer?"

I cleared my throat and straightened my back. My hands gripped the podium that had been prepared for me. Now was my opportunity to say something that I had been aching to say: the truth. "I want them to know that I will never forgive them. They should know that they will rot in jail for the rest of their life for this, and then they should ask themselves if it was really worth it or not. And the world needs to know that justice will be delivered to Carson, Carson's family, to me, and to the rest of this town. Whoever killed Carson...you're a monster, and I hate you." I walked aside to allow room for Pierce, who took the stand with a rehearsed smile and practiced posture.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. My client has nothing further to say at this time." He nodded to the cameras as my father took my arm. He helped me down the steps, as my body was still numb from shock. My father pushed a reporter away, who was eagerly attempting to get juicy details from the story. My mom opened the door to the car and ushered me in. I rested my head on her shoulder, ignoring the flashing of cameras and rabble of journalists. Some of them seemed to be pestering Pierce with inquiries of the case. He managed to catch my eye before my father pulled away from the horde. He flashed me a sympathetic smile--what was that? Sympathetic? I nearly scoffed at the thought--and I gestured him a curt wave goodbye.

"Avery, I don't want you going to school tomorrow--or this week, at all," my mom said.

"I just want things to go back to normal," I whimpered.

"I'll try to make things as normal as possible, Avery--but I don't think you need that attention right now."

"Someone will get pregnant in a week or arrested for selling weed and everyone will forget about this," I assured. It was honestly a sad truth--drama like this, even drama involving murder, would be forgotten in a few weeks' time. Carson mattered to some--his parents, maybe some close friends--but just because he died didn't mean that the world would cease all of its activities. The event barely impacted anybody, and in a few somber months, only a handful of people in Eldbourne, let alone the world, would even care.

My father made a sound as if to protest, but ultimately kept his mouth shut and kept driving. I pondered how Carson got killed, and if he knew if he was going to die, and if he was happy. Was Carson depressed? I thought. Or was he ready for a full life? Was he ready to die?

Is anybody ready to die?

Liam was setting on my doorstep when we pulled into the driveway. He was fiddling with his thumbs until his head perked up to greet us. "Hi, Liam," my mom greeted.

"Hi, Mrs. Carter." He smiled warmly at my mom and nodded to my father. "Mr. Carter."

"Honey, I'm going to go inside and make some tea. Do you want any? How about you, Liam?" Mom inquired. We both declined with a shake of the head. Liam took my hand and sat me down on the steps next to the garden.

"Are you okay, babe?" he asked softly, not looking me in the eyes.

"I'm...I think I'm going to be okay," I answered.

"Avery...why did you say those things on the TV?" he asked. "Why...why did you lie?"

I looked up at him. It looked as though he had been crying--his eyes were bloodshot red. "Pierce--my lawyer...I had to, Liam. You know they think I did it. I had to throw them off my scent."

"None of it was...it was all a lie though, right?" His hopeful, tired eyes looked up at me. "Right?"

I grinned softly. "Of course it was, Liam."

"Avery, what if the police come to me? What if they ask me about our relationship? About the relationship you 'had' with Carson?"

"I...I can't ask you to lie for me, Liam," I said.

"What, you don't think I'm going to lie for you? Avery, I'll do whatever it takes to make sure that they don't blame you for all of this," he assured. "I'm always gonna be here for you, Avery. Don't forget that, okay?"

I smiled a genuine smile. "I don't deserve you, Liam."

"Yeah, I am pretty great, aren't I?" Liam quipped, finally staring me on the eyes. He kissed me on the forehead and hugged me, pulling me closer. He rested his chin on top of my head, keeping me safe and keeping me secure. He's never going to let me go, I happily thought, and I never want him to.

"Avery...maybe we should try and find out the truth," Liam suggested.

"I already told you, let's leave it to the police," I replied. "I don't wanna get you in more trouble, or"--I attempted to hide a shudder when I recalled that the killer had threatened me if I went digging further--"or maybe go looking where I shouldn't."

"Avery, if the police think it's you--and, c'mon, they have a pretty good reason to--they're gonna go after you. If we can find proof, we can turn it into the police and then they'll be able to help you!" Liam exclaimed.

It honestly sounded like a good idea: help the police, get myself out of trouble, and maybe find out Carson's killer and bring them to justice. I can't let the killer find me out. I don't wanna die like Carson did. "I can't, Liam. I don't want to get into trouble."

Liam nodded. "I understand. Sorry, I got a little excited...I guess I shouldn't get excited about things like this, though, huh? I just don't want you getting arrested, Avery. I don't wanna lose you."

"You're not gonna lose me, Liam." I gripped onto his hands. "I promise."

Liam had to leave a little while later after his mother called him home for dinner. I snuck inside and locked the door behind me. I stood as still as a statue when I heard my mother weeping in the kitchen. "What's gonna happen to our baby, Brandon?" she cried.

"Shh, shh," my dad said, "it'll be okay, Melanie."

"How, Brandon? What happened to that poor boy? Why did he have to drag our girl into this? She didn't do anything."

"I know, honey. I know she didn't do it--we just have to be there for her. Like we were for him." For him?

My mom sniffled. "I...I know. I just hope the police figure this out soon."

"They will, honey. They will."

I quietly scampered upstairs before I caught anymore of their heartbreaking conversation. I'm just a burden on everyone now, I somberly thought. I closed the door behind me and collapsed onto my bed. The only thing I was looking forward to was getting a full night sleep and waking up sometime in the afternoon instead of in mere hours for school.

My phone began to buzz in my pocket. I grabbed it, almost relieved, as I was expecting a call from maybe Dakota or Landon (honestly, even Pierce Prescott with some good news would be welcome), but then frowned in disappointment. It was a blocked number. I raised my cell to my ear and asked, "Hello?"

"Hello, Avery Carter," the voice replied. It was monotone and sounded as if I were only talking to an answering machine. My heart dropped as the voice continued. "I saw your little stunt on television today. I know that you weren't in love with Carson Harris--but, if you were, you hid it very well. I'll applaud you and your lawyer for coming up with that stunt. You may not have known it, Avery Carter, but many people wanted Carson Harris dead. Some for the wrong reasons. Some for the right reasons. I can assure you with full sincerity that my reason was indeed, a correct reason. I also know why he wrote out your name. I'm also assuming you got my letter in Carson's care package for you. This is your final warning, Avery. You called me a monster on television--maybe I'm under your bed as we speak."

"W-who are you?" I said, finally gaining confidence in myself. It took everything in me to not hyperventilate.

"You're not finding that one out, Avery; well, at least not any time soon. I do hope that you stay out of this. Goodbye, Avery."

"Why did you kill Carson?" I demanded, but the call had gone silent. Maybe I'm under your bed as we speak, the voice rang out. I smothered myself in my blanket. I suddenly had the desire to reach into Carson's box for me (which I had brought home when we were done with the press conference) and examine the contents yet again. I ultimately pulled out the teddy bear and brought it close to me. It was a dull blue color and tattered, missing an ear and a tear threatening to take its leg right off, but it felt like it had been loved. I smelled it--it carried the scent of lavender.

I moved a bow, which was loosely wrapped round its neck, and brushed off some dust. I noticed the vague imprint of some letters: KS. "Who did you belong to?" I asked quietly. I sat up straight and hugged the teddy bear close to my chest.

Liam will help me, I decided. Dakota will help me. Landon will help me when he gets home. We're going to find this killer. I didn't want to be afraid. I wasn't going to let this killer control me. They obviously were glad to let me take the blame for Carson's murder, but I would not let them. I wasn't going to let them control every action that I took and influence my behavior. KS, I thought. Maybe KS knew Carson? Maybe Carson knew his killer? Maybe...maybe Carson can help me.

Because maybe Carson was ready to die, but I definitely wasn't.

And I wasn't going to let this insane person dictate the rest of my life with one phone call and one letter. I was going to find out the truth, even if it got me in more trouble (honestly, how much more trouble could I get myself into).

So I collapsed onto my pillow, clutching the forgotten teddy bear close to my chest. I couldn't allow myself to cry. I wouldn't let the monster under my bed see me cry.

I was going to stop them. I wasn't going to burden anyone else with Carson Harris's case anymore--because I was going to solve it.

I was going to slay the monster.