You ask too many questions. You ask too many questions. You ask too many questions. You ask too many questions. You ask--

"Now, somebody tell me why Antigone is named, not after King Creon, but after the mourning sister?"

Dakota raised her hand. "Because Antigone is a tragic hero, and even though Creon has more 'screen time', it's the story of Antigone. Creon learned from his mistakes, but he's no hero. This isn't about a man who regretted his actions, or a sister who couldn't help her sibling, or a son who mourned his fiancé, or a brother who betrayed his country. This is just the story of a girl who wanted to bury her brother."

Mr. Cappineri pointed and nodded. "Precisely, Dakota. Excellent job." The bell rang. "Read the next ten pages for homework, and fill out the questions at the end. And I leave you with this question to write a one-paragraph short-response on: why was King Creon left to live?" We piled out of the classroom. Dakota met up with me in the hallway.

"Avery, if we find this boy, we can finally be done with all of this."

"I don't know, Dakota," I replied. "It can't be that easy."

"What do you mean?"

"There has to be some motive. He can't just be some boy."

"Avery, murder is pretty simple," Dakota replied. "You get pissed, you shoot a gun, you kill somebody."

"But there's a reason he got pissed. There's a reason he shot a gun. There's a reason he killed someone." There were posters advertising the Fall Concert and Dance all around the halls. Landon was the pianist for the band last year, but dropped out for whatever reason. I thought it odd, as he was the best player in the whole county. "Are you going to the dance?" I asked. I expected people to be giving me sideways glances, or shooting shade at me, or perhaps sympathetically looking on, but everyone was in their own world. Apparently, Stephany Lansen had gotten pregnant by Justin Cohen several days earlier, and had taken over the gossip at the school. Dakota told me that everyone was quiet and the mood was eerie the day after Carson was announced dead, and then life went back to normal. Life always went back to normal.

"I don't think so. I was thinking maybe we could all go see a movie or something," she replied.

"That sounds like a good plan," I replied. "Can Katherine come?"

"Yeah, of course. She really needs some friends right now. I'm happy to help."

"Dakota, you're so nice. What the hell?" I asked, elbowing her.

"It's my one true weakness," she replied, feigning a defeated sigh. I giggled. "Okay, I'll see you at lunch!" She waved and walked into the nearest classroom, leaving me to saunter around the halls. I eventually made my way to my locker to put my English textbooks and copy of Antigone away. I turned my head to see a note stuck between some books. I curiously grabbed it, unfurling the paper.

215-555-9392
Matthew 5:44

I guess Matt left his number for me? I figured. I texted the number.

8:55 am
hey matt

8:55 am
Call me

I shrugged. Maybe he needs to tell me something about Katherine. I raised my phone to my ear and said, "What's up, Matthew?"

"Go to the park today at five forty-four and pick up the package. Go back at nine o'clock today," the voice ordered. I nearly dropped my phone: it was the masked boy. "Bring anyone with you, and I will come for you. If you tell the police, I will know, and I will come for you. Come alone and I will tell you the truth. See you later, Avery Carter."

I skipped lunch and my other classes after that. I went into my car and screamed into my jacket.

"What are you going to do?" Katherine asked.

"I-I don't know. And what does this 'Matthew' thing mean? I thought maybe it was your brother trying to tell me something."

"I have no idea." Katherine clutched onto her bear and handed me a pillow to hug. "Have you tried Googling it?"

"I guess it couldn't hurt." I put it the phrase into my phone and read aloud: "Love your enemies. Bless those who curse you. Do good to those who hate you. And pray for those who persecute you. M...Matthew, 5:44. It's a Bible verse."

"So Mr. Wolfman is a preacher, too?" Katherine asked.

"I think he's just crazy."

"You can't go in alone, Avery. He didn't say that he would hurt you if you didn't go, right? Just don't go. Just ignore him."

"I...I can't. If he's not lying to me, then he's going to tell me what happened. What happened to Carson."

"You can't get killed too, Avery," Katherine whispered. "He's dangerous. This might be the guy who tried to kill me."

"I...I won't get killed. I...if I bring someone...I don't know how he'll know, but he'll know."

"I don't know, Avery. I don't know. Just promise me you won't do something stupid?"

"I...I promise." Katherine's father called her down for lunch. I excused myself to go.

"Avery, how many times do I have to tell you that your ideas are stupid?" Pierce asked. He anxiously tapped his fingers on the desk. He offered me a drink. His eyes actually widened in surprise when I accepted. I sipped it with shaking hands, letting it burn my throat and cause me to slightly gag. "You can't do this, kid. This is dumb. This isn't 'sue the Summers' kind of dumb. This is 'get yourself killed' kind of dumb."

"Pierce, wanna know why I came to you instead of my parents, or my friends, or literally anyone else?" I asked quietly.

"Please, enlighten me."

"Because I know that they'll try to console me, and tell me it's okay. But you're gonna tell me like it is. You're gonna tell me I'm stupid and an idiot and I should turn back now, but you're also gonna tell me how my plan could work."

He paused. "There's not even a plan to discuss here, kid. You're talking about confronting a psychopath with no backup and no escape plan."

"Yeah, but...I can at least go find what the package is, and then I'll get back to you about my really bad idea."

"I can't change your mind about this, can I?"

"I don't think so."

"I...I have a meeting later, but I suppose if you went into my conveniently opened safe once I walk out of here, there's nothing I could do to stop you." He smirked, stood, and walked over to a painting on the wall. He pushed it aside to reveal a safe in the wall. He input a code, grabbed some files from it, and walked away. "Put that drink back on the counter when you're done. And all you have to do is aim, and then, bang! You're safe."

He patted me on the shoulder and walked right out, leaving me to stare at the safe. I approached it, my fingers shaking. There was some money--which I didn't dare take--and something that made me quiver. A gun.

I wrapped my timid fingers around it. My father had taken me to a shooting range once, but I didn't like the loudness of the gunshots, so I never went back. I brought the gun close and made sure that it wasn't loaded. I took out the magazine entirely, not wanting to risk it. I stuffed both parts into my purse, wondering if I would really need it.

"I'm sorry I lied," was the first thing the boy said to me. "I know I said I would come at nine instead of now."

My whole body froze. There was box in front of me, a masked boy several feet ahead of that, and a cold gun pressed up against my waistband. Every single thing made me shiver and my heart shudder. He gestured to the package in front of me. "Pick it up and open it," he ordered.

With shaking hands, I reached down and picked up the parcel. He won't hurt you. It's broad daylight. Someone will help you if he tries to hurt you. I unraveled the string that loosely held together the wrapping. It fell to ground and eventually floated away in a gust of the wind. I opened the box with numb hands. The contents held two things: a Bible and a bloody rosary. "What are these?" I asked.

"My mom was a nice woman," he replied. "Always going to church. Always praying. Always doing charity work. Always doing something nice. So I don't really understand why she got killed, especially by the man I trusted most. Yeah, Dad offed her. He was really drunk. So then he drove home and hit another car and killed the little girl. Then Dad got offed in jail. So I did what Mom did. I went to church and I prayed. The priest told me, 'Love your enemies. Bless those who curse you. Do good to those who hate you. And pray for those who persecute you.' How the hell could I bless my father? People like my mother, they didn't deserve to die."

"But Carson did?" I replied.

"Yes," he stated matter-of-factly. "He hurt someone very important to me."

"Who?" I demanded.

He laughed. "Now, if I told you that, you wouldn't have as much excitement, would you?"

"Why did you bring me here? To tell me about your parents? You could've just called me."

"No, that's not really the thing. See, my friend really doesn't want me to do this, but I really wanna help my friend out. And I really do think with you outta the picture, it will be much easier for everyone involved. And I really was going to come at nine, I promise. But my friend got pissed and said they'd be coming tonight to stop me. But, I really care about my friend. More than anyone, understand?" He waited for a response, but I granted him nothing. "Do you believe that?" I refused. His head twitched and, in a sudden movement, he pulled a gun out from behind him. "I asked, do you believe that?"

"I...I believe you. I believe that you care for your friend," I replied, my voice surprisingly calm. He won't shoot me. He can't shoot me. He began to approach me and I let the box clatter to the floor.

"Pick it up!" he screamed. I snatched the rosary quickly. "Do you believe, Avery Carter? Do you believe in something bigger than yourself?"

"Yes," I honestly replied. He eventually got so close that I could smell his breath.

"If you do, do you believe in forgiveness?"

"I...I don't know."

"You don't know? Well, here's an example: do you forgive everyone who's lied to you?"

"Yes."

"Okay, here's a harder one: will you forgive me?"

"No," I answered.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, but I suppose I won't be sorry for this." He raised the gun, and I in turn grabbed the gun from my belt.

"You will be," I replied, my voice shaky now that the cold metal pressed against my palm instead of my back.

"What, is this supposed to scare me?" he hissed. We were at a stalemate. "I'm going to count to three. And then I'm going to shoot my gun. Let's see who goes first.

"One."

I cocked the gun.

"Two."

I raised it with shaky hands.

"Thr--"

Sirens. Blue and red flashing lights. Officer Eliza proclaiming, "THIS IS THE POLICE. LOWER YOUR WEAPON AND SURRENDER NOW." Wolf boy stared at me with glaring eyes. They were bright green.

"So, who fires first?" he snickered. I stared at him as I put my gun away in my belt, covering it with my jacket. "I guess it's me."

"PUT THE GUN DOWN!"

"One. Two. Three." He raised the gun...

...towards his own head. So I did the practical thing and tackled him to the ground. I wretched the gun out of his hand and pinned him to the ground. He was stronger, no doubt, but he was surprised. He attempted to scamper away from me, but the cops had already moved in. "Hands in the air!" the officer bellowed. I immediately shot my hands towards the sky. The boy sneered and reluctantly raised his own hands. The officer grabbed the boy's hands and lurched them behind him, cuffing him and removing his mask. The boy looked at me and I shuddered. His pale face was scarred from his chin to his forehead, slashing to the right at a diagonal. His green eyes bore into mine for a moment before he snatched his head away from me. He's the boy. The one from the coffee shop. The one that was looking at Dakota and me.

"Avery?" Officer Eliza inquired. "What's this all about?"

"He...he was the one that grabbed me on Halloween," I replied. She nodded.

"I'm going to have to take you down to the station to get your statement."

"I think I've been there too many times," I replied with a slight chuckle.

She smiled softly. "Sorry, Avery. But you're lucky he called the police. What were you planning on doing? Talking sense into this maniac?"

"Something like that," I replied. "He?" I then asked. I thought for a moment that Katherine was the one that had alerted the cops.

"Pierce. He decided to come as well, unfortunately."

"Ah, my two biggest fans," Pierce said, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. He approached behind us and clapped me on the shoulder.

"Shut up, Pierce," we replied in unison.

"What? No 'thank you'?"

"Thank you," I grumbled. He looked proud of himself, adjusting his tie and smiling.

"Why, you're quite welcome! Eliza?"

"Fuck off," she bluntly replied. I chuckled. Pierce suddenly turned me around and hugged me.

"What are--"

"Just glad you're okay!" he exclaimed, smacking me on the shoulder again. "Now, come on. To the station we go."

With a puzzled look, I piled into the back of the police car. I reached to my back--the gun was gone. Pierce saw my reaction and smiled, patting his side. I guess I can't get caught with a gun that isn't mine, I thought.

"He's a repeated offender," Eliza said from the driver's seat. "I arrested him a few years ago for petty larceny, and then he skipped town."

"He said his mother got killed by his dad, and then he got killed in prison after killing a little girl." Pierce's smirk faded. "Do you know his name?"

"Y...yes," Eliza stammered. "Xander Masefield." Pierce looked ready to break something--or a neck.

"Why? Do you know him?"

"I do believe," Pierce grunted through gritted teeth, "that I put his father in jail." I nodded. Something else must've happened, I thought. Why would he get so mad just thinking of someone he put in jail? "What do you believe, Avery?"

"What do you mean?" I inquired.

"Do you believe that boy killed Carson?" His knuckled gripped onto the door, paling by the minute. Eliza glanced at him, her eyes saddening and becoming apologetic.

"I...I don't know yet. I...he said he had a friend. He was protecting someone. I think that person killed Carson, but I dunno. I just don't know."

"It's okay, Avery," Eliza said. "We're getting closer and closer." Pierce grumbled something that I couldn't hear. I nodded to reassure both Eliza and myself. "This is gonna be over soon."

Not soon enough, I thought. It would never be soon enough.

After I came home, I completed my homework by answering the question: Why was Creon left to live?

Answer:
Creon was left to live to suffer.