Darkness wasn't truly scary.

Not if you were more afraid of the things you could see. When secrets came to light, there was a lot at stake — especially when it involved people who would do anything to keep them hidden.

There was a bustle of noise, but I felt nothing but numb silence. Flashes of photography went off. I watched an officer collect the sculpture's broken arrow into the bag. Police tape lined the halls, blocking everyone but the officials from passing. With everything going on, I could only think about Natasha's face — lifeless eyes, splotchy blanched face, lips parted slightly like a gaping fish. I didn't want to remember her like that. It made me feel dirty, like the blood was on my hands.

Like I had killed her.

"I — I stepped outside for some fresh air — and then I came back in and saw —" Luce choked out in between sobs. An officer asked Luce what she had seen, like it wasn't traumatizing enough to witness it firsthand.

Another officer was talking to West, and he pointed towards the hallway. Only then did I see the knocked-over flower vase, with little roses spilled out and the stems crushed, as if someone had stepped on it.

Roses. Dead, like the ones left in my locker.

Like Natasha.

Justin squeezed my shoulder. "Are you okay? I should've told you I was coming — I'm so sorry." I wouldn't have noticed he was there if he hadn't spoken.

My entire body felt numb. I raised my head, meeting his eyes.

Lately, it felt like both of us were apologizing too much.

I couldn't do it right now.

"There was so much blood," I whispered. That was all I could think about — the blood that seeped the cloth of the red dress she had on, practically blending in with it. Bile rose in my mouth, and I pressed my sweaty hands together, closing my eyes so the image would disappear. Natasha's eyes were always the most prominent part of her otherwise forgettable face; they were like little moon crescents gleaming with silvery light.

The light was gone now.

"We're going to need you kids to clear out of here. Mr. Blakeyard, do you have contact with your parents and somewhere safe you can stay for the night?" A stocky officer glanced at West, his lips folding into a frown.

"Shit," West muttered, a dazed expression crossing his face.

Everyone else had cleared out, making the party of the century now an evening filled with suspects. The cops directed us outside, the chilly night enveloping us as soon as we pushed open the doors. Distant sirens blared in the background.

Griffin sat on the curb, away from the rest of the group. His beat-up black leather jacket hung over his broad shoulders, and his eyes, usually shining with joy, were stormy. He looked up, and his usual intense gaze locked on mine. No words said. A hundred understood. He broke the hold first, looking away like it pained him to even look at me.

I walked over to him and sat next to him. If I were his friend, I would immediately hug him. Now, it felt like uncharted territory. His hand was resting next to his leg, fingers tapping incessantly.

I inched my fingers closer, unsure of what to do next. After seeing how his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes dangerously blue and filled with emptiness, I decided I didn't care anymore about the invisible line between us. I grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly for his sake and mine. His hand was taut at first, but then he relaxed, still avoiding my gaze.

No matter what, I didn't let go.

The night's events replayed in my head. Justin and Willow's argument. The run-in with Kai. Taylor's phone call, chugging from the bottle, seeing Griffin for the first time in months. Suddenly, the night's mess had all jumbled into one big terrible ending, and I didn't know what to say.

It was one thing when Natasha had been missing. But now she was dead — in the same building as us.

Once a pretty decoration, the ice cupid was now a suspected murder weapon.

At least, that was what they were saying. I couldn't fathom anything. I could only think about looking at the Cupid in the foyer earlier. The playful smile that danced on its pink lips. The sharp edge of the arrow, coated in gold, tainted with crimson.

What could have happened at the party that led to Natasha lying in a pool of blood?

My stomach twisted, remembering the mysterious text I had received from an unknown number just moments before Natasha's death. The text had said it was from an old friend — could it have been Natasha?

"What do you think happened?" Griffin said, his hooded eyes rising to meet mine. His voice was hoarse.

The night air was icy on my skin, so I folded my legs. "I don't know." I pursed my lips together, tasting the leftover peach lip gloss. The sweetness had worn off. Silence fell over us, and Griffin swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"She's gone," he said.

"I know," I whispered. Griffin didn't reply, and I squeezed his hand tighter. The cold band of the ring he wore on his finger grazed against my skin, but I didn't let go.

My heart was still racing, and it hurt to breathe. I tried to gather my jumbled thoughts together, focusing on steadying my breathing. A few hours ago, Natasha was missing. There had been flyers. The newscasters informed Fairwood that 17-year-old Natasha Ryan was missing. They gave a physical description and asked the community to report any findings. Maybe her family had led search parties; they had watched the same news channels with tears in their eyes and bated breaths, waiting for any response.

Everything had happened with the assumption that she would return home alive.

She wasn't supposed to return like this.

"Griffin Keely, right?" A cop approached us, rubbing his grey-tinged beard. His sharp gaze was meticulous, intruding. "Officer Davies. Can you come down to the station with us?"

"Why him?" I said. "I mean, shouldn't he be able to call his parents first?"

Officer Davies gave me a quick once-over. "And you are?"

Someone who probably shouldn't have opened her mouth.

I straightened my shoulders, matching his gaze with a challenging one of my own. "Haven Grey."

"Haven Grey." He repeated my name like it left a bitter taste on his tongue. "I'm sure we'll be hearing more from you as well." His gaze made me squirm.

"Griffin doesn't have to say anything he isn't comfortable with," Officer Davies said. "Eventually, we'll be asking all of you some questions." I stared at him, and he added, "Just some standard questions. And we're going to start with you because if my understanding is clear, you had an alleged relationship with Natasha, correct?" Everything coming out of his mouth sounded like a double-edged dagger.

"Not anymore," Griffin said. His jaw muscle pulsated, and all I wanted to do was smooth it out for him.

When Officer Davies' face barely changed, Griffin released a soft sigh."That's fine. I'll come to the station tonight. I — can I just call my dad? He'll be worried if he doesn't know where I'm at. It's just the two of us at home, and he usually waits for me so we can have dinner together."

My heart ached for him.

Officer Davies nodded slowly. "Of course. The car's ready. We'll give you a few minutes to get ready."

Griffin removed my death grip from his hand, and I hadn't even realized I was still holding it. For the first time, I realized how tired he looked.

"Griffin, you don't have to go," I said.

"I think you have other problems to take care of," Griffin said, leaning in. His woodsy scent engulfed me, and I chewed my lip before following his gaze.

Justin was staring at us, his eyebrows furrowed with suspicion.

I swallowed. "But legally —"

"Legally Blonde. Good movie. My sister made me see it before," Griffin said. The boyish smile that played on his lips didn't reach his eyes. I remembered that about him — how he could smile through the pain. How he'd make a joke, just to make you stop worrying, even if he wasn't entirely okay. "You should get back to your friends. Before they think you're befriending the biggest suspect."

I shook my head. "They wouldn't say that about you." A cloud of guilt surrounded me because I knew they would. I still didn't want him to leave, and I didn't know how to tell him. I didn't even know why I cared so much.

Griffin must've seen the turmoil on my face because he leaned closer, his shoulder only inches from touching mine. "Grey," he said, his voice low. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

His old nickname for me. I shivered, and he extended a hand towards his jacket.

"Do you want it?"

The gesture made my stomach flutter, but I shook my head, pressing my hands on my knees.

"Officer Davies." Detective Ares stepped forward, wrinkles forming on her forehead as she squinted at the piece of paper tucked inside her weathered fingers. "We secured the crime scene and found this lodged near the victim's body."

Officer Davies took the paper from her, scanning it. He looked up, his eyes falling briefly on me. "Do you kids know anything about this?"

He held it out for us to see, and my stomach knotted at the words.

Cupid's Guide to Murder: Step Three —

Love and revenge can get bloody. Sometimes, you need to let it stain your hands.

The note resembled the ones I had received earlier. Cupid's Guide to Murder hadn't been a sick joke to get under my skin.

It had been a warning.

My body felt colder than ice, and my palms grew sweaty. I clasped them together. I could feel Griffin's eyes, knowing he had seen the quick shift on my face.

"Of course not," Justin snapped. "Do you think any of us are capable of murder? What kind of twisted person leaves notes like that? Is this a prank?"

"It's evidence," Officer Davies said.

Justin pursed his lips together, shutting up.

Officer Davies beckoned Detective Ares to take it away in the baggie. "We're going to need to secure the crime scene. Once we have a better look at the victim —"

"She's dead?" West said, his voice choked. "I mean... I hosted this fucking party. How could an accident like this have happened?"

"If we suspect foul play, this is no longer classified as an accident." Officer Davie's rustic brown eyes slid to us. "It becomes a homicide case."

Homicide.

A murder investigation.

His words created a frantic swirl in my chest, and I brought my knees to my chest.

Do not throw up.

"You can't think one of us killed her," Luce said.

Officer Davies raised his burly eyebrows. "I didn't say it was one of you."

Silence followed his words. Luce's eyes widened, and she stared at the ground. "I... I didn't mean..."

"We'll be in contact over the next few days to get your statements, but I assure you we will find out what happened tonight," Officer Davies said. "Griffin, please meet Detective Ares outside to head to the station."

As soon as Griffin stood up, all eyes were on him. Justin's narrowed eyes, Taylor's look of accusatory distaste — I saw it all, and it made my skin bristle. The worst part was I couldn't go near him, and he didn't even try to come closer to us. It was like he knew he wasn't a part of us.

"You guys used to be friends with her, right? I don't even know what to say," Lila said, twisting her braid around her finger. "I'm so sorry." Pink glitter spilled over her cheeks, and her full lips pouted.

"She was a bitch," Taylor finally said. Her voice was so quiet that I almost missed it.

"What?" Lila's eyes widened in surprise.

"She was a complete... bitch." Taylor's voice was dry. "That's the only memory I have of her. She was a manipulative liar who almost ruined our lives." She looked at Luce and me. "Starting with the stupid list."

The list. I swallowed. In sophomore year, the agreement patented our friendship. The boys didn't know how Natasha was — they weren't close to her.

But we did.

We all had to give something up. She said it was because friends should trust each other, but it was her way of knowing we wouldn't turn against her. Taylor had told her about kissing her sister's boyfriend. Which was fine until they weren't friends anymore, and she held it over her head.

The thing I gave up was a person.

I remembered Griffin biking over to my place, his tongue red from his cherry lollipops. He loved those, even though I thought they tasted like medicine. The Griffin that Fairwood High knew; drug dealer, lost cause, destruction mixed with a bad reputation; maybe all of it was true. There was more to it, though. They didn't know how he had a heart of gold or how he could make your stomach hurt from laughing endlessly. How he would save people, even if it meant he lost in the end.

Some people would call me lucky — Griffin Keely liked me, and Griffin Keely didn't have feelings for girls — he hooked up, but that's it.

In my mind, he was the lucky one because he had two girls who loved him.

Natasha and I.

It's not that I wanted to give him up. I didn't have a choice.

"I still can't believe she's gone," Luce breathed. She gave up something too, but she never told us what it was, no matter how much we asked. "I thought it was all over." Her glassy eyes met mine with the silent understanding that it was never over.

"We sure as hell can't stay here tonight," West said. "Fuck, my parents are going to kill me."

"Dude, you can't just use that word after somebody died," Cooper said. "That's morbid."

"Fuck you, Coop. Do you think I'm thinking straight? Somebody just died at one of my parties," West snapped. West was always the chill one — seeing him geared up was enough to let us know nothing would be the same again. "This was supposed to be the party of the decade. Not a fucking funeral."

"Stop fighting," Luce croaked. "Please, you guys. We can't do this."

West fidgeted, his eyes finally catching Luce's. His shoulders relaxed, and he pulled her into a hug. She leaned into his chest, her tears soaking his shirt. He didn't seem to care, though. He ran a hand through her tousled hair, squeezing her tighter.

Luce was beautiful, but right now, she just looked broken. My eyes slid to Taylor's face. Her face held the opposite reaction: cold, grim pursed lips, remorseless eyes. I ignored the weird sensation in my chest.

"Everyone can stay at my place. Everything's going to be okay." Luce said it like she was trying to convince herself. The cool night air spread over us like an uncomfortable blanket, and I tilted my head, letting it sting my cheeks.

My phone vibrated, and I glanced down at the bright screen, flickering with an unread message from the same unknown number. My heart started racing.

It's a shame Valentine's Day is ending, but that doesn't mean Cupid can't keep having some fun.

I wonder who might get hit with Cupid's bow and arrow next.

I glanced at my friends, their arms wrapped around each other, consoling each other. I was used to seeing us all in the limelight, filled with laughter, thriving on power and popularity. Now, everyone just looked like ghosts. I took a step away from the rest of the group. With cold, numb fingers, I pressed the call button. My heart quickened as I placed the phone on my ear, listening to the ringtone.

We're sorry you have reached a number that is disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel this is in error, please check the number dialed, and please try again.

I cursed underneath my breath, disconnecting the call. Of course. The one lead, if it was even a lead, was gone. I felt a hand grasp my shoulder and took a sharp breath.

"Hey," Justin said. "You don't look too good."

"Just my nerves," I muttered, moving the phone back into my pocket. I met his gaze. No longer drunk, thoughts of earlier came back to me. "You should've told me you were coming to the party."

He scratched his head — one of his nervous traits. "I know. I've been acting like an idiot lately."

I didn't fight it because he was being an idiot. I needed something to distract myself, some way to get Natasha's face out of my mind. "What was happening upstairs? With Willow. You guys were fighting."

He flushed. "Nothing, she was just mad about something and taking it out on me. You know how Willow gets. I promise you it's irrelevant." He could tell I didn't believe him, but he knew I didn't care enough to push it. He took my hand in his and sighed, squeezing it tightly.

"I'm just happy you're okay," he said. "I knew Natasha had her demons, but I never imagined she'd do something like this. It's crazy, even for her."

I hated the word crazy. It was demeaning and made someone sound like they weren't in control of their actions and emotions. That wasn't true for Natasha, though. Everything she did, she was aware of.

What Justin was implying was jarring — suicide hadn't even crossed my mind. I shuddered, tightening my arms around my body. "You think she..." My breath hitched. "You think she did it to herself?"

"Well, yeah. Nobody here is a murderer." He laughed as if the thought of it was absurd.

Justin was right. We weren't killers.

I wondered, though, if that would change. With the right motive, the right secret to hide.

Maybe we could be.