To his surprise, that wasn't what she said at all. "Listen to me very closely, son. I want you to channel that energy into something productive. Your grades, your water polo, your relationships, anything." The woman explained, her voice solemn, but controlled. "Except for diving too deep into this death. Please, don't play detective. Don't go up to the police and beg to see your broth- your brother. They'll just have me or your father pick you up. We can't discipline you right now, and we all need to try and help Amelia. So please, don't play detective." She pleaded with her boy. It only gave him the bright idea of doing just that.

The woman looked like she had more to say. She just had to figure out how to say it. Viktor didn't know whether he should be eager, or feel awkward about it. "Look, son. You're either going to give up and die, or you're going to fight and live. And I cannot survive another child of mine dying on me. Ever. It's out of order. I'm supposed to die first, not any of you three." She wiped her eyes, still playing with Amelia's greasy hair. She would end up washing it for her later on that night, but for now, she just wanted her daughter to know she was there.

The conversation endlessly rang through his mind. It was a movie, playing over and over in his head. It transpired hours ago now, and still? He could hear his mother's voice, feel her breath on the back of his neck. The hairs on his nape prickled with the sensation.

His eyes focused on the ceiling. Maybe tomorrow he'd call Evelyn, and see how she was. She must've imagined everyone hated her. She must've felt so alone. So afraid. So confused. It was easy to try and be angry with her, but he knew that she had nothing to do with the murders. He knew how much she adored Camilo. And Evelyn might be willing to fight if she had to, but she'd never kill anyone unless it was absolutely necessary for her own survival. Especially not Camilo.

Viktor sighed, and pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. His eyes slowly went out of focus as he began drifting off into the realm of sleep. The further he drifted, the better his life seemed. Soon, the worries of the world were lifted off his shoulders, and he wished he could stay asleep forever.

The following morning, he was awakened by the sound of loud, repetitive knocks on the door. "I'm coming, I'm coming." His voice was smokier in the mornings, and he'd hardly woken up by the time he made it to the door. His mother was gone, probably taking over for her father at the police station. They both wanted all the answers they could get. Or maybe they were both passed out in their room after exhaustion had taken over. Groggily, he wiped his eyes, and opened the door. He squinted, the early-morning sun hardly allowing him to see Bean hovering awkwardly over him.

"Hey Vik, what's up, man? Came to check up on you." The scraggly boy cracked his dopey, big-toothed smile, the wrinkles digging into his freckled cheeks. "Mmm... I'm fine. Could be better. Could be worse. I think I've got a plan. Mom helped me come up with it. I think I'm going to- what's with your face?" Viktor muttered, gesturing with a hand toward his friend's flushed face. "Nothing. I just- not used to hearing you in the morning. You sound sexy- uh, sick." Bean smacked himself in the nose. Viktor stared at him like he was insane. He must've misheard what his friend was about to say. Really, he was just in denial. He refused to take anything in or out of proportion. Unless Bean outright said it, Viktor wasn't even going to try and believe it right now. He had more important things on his mind, anyway. "Okay..? Come on in. Just ignore the Barbie Nutcracker movie going on. Amelia's watching it." He waved around a nonchalant hand, leading the way inside.

Bean's eyes locked onto the unmoving girl on the couch. His own face was drained of color. "Oh my gosh. Is-is she d- is she dead?" He barely managed to squeak. Viktor made his way to his sister, and gently pulled her hair out of her face. "...Thanks." Her voice was pathetic, mouse-like. "She'll be okay. I'm going to take care of her. We all are." Her brother spoke softly.

It wasn't long before Viktor and his best bud were in his room. "So, this plan of yours? Want to tell me what that's all about?" Bean handed Viktor a brush, eyes never leaving the boy's choppy black hair, wild like the waves crashing over a tanker when he'd just woken up. "Right. Evelyn's dad. Mr. Lewis. I want to interview him." "Do you think that's really a good idea right after..." The interruption snagged Viktor's attention, and the anxious attitude annoyed him. "I didn't say you had to do anything. I didn't invite you over today to talk it out, dude. You just showed up for no reason." His voice carried malice, which caused his friend to shrink back.

Bean only wanted an elaboration on what the plan had been. But... Yes, he was here for another reason as well. "I came here to thank you for what you did to Justin. I don't think he's going to be bothering me much anymore. I mean... you were defending your brother, but you were also protecting me. And I'm uh, grateful." He nervously shuffled between legs, hands twiddling with each other. His head was slightly tucked, and growing redder by the minute. A little girl could've started picking on this dude and he would've allowed it.

"Yeah. You're my friend, and Justin is... Justin. Trevor deserved it, and so did he. So everyone can get over it already." Viktor tossed the brush down on his bed, and walked over to his wall. His arms flung open wide, as if to say 'Behold, my masterpiece!'

There were a bunch of papers he'd tacked up yesterday evening. On those papers were photographs. There were a few images of Camilo, just photographs collected over the years. He had one picture of him laying down, which he assumed was the most probable position for the doctors holding him. On that photo, he'd smeared red pen all over his face. All he really knew was that Camilo's face was messed up, in one way or another.

There was a line in pen connecting that to a happy-go-lucky photo of Mr. Lewis, thumbs-upping at the camera. There were three note cards. One said 'He killed Camilo, I know he did.' Another line of red-pen linked that to a list on another note card, that just said 'WHAT I KNOW'. This list was composed of

- He kills guys. - He kills people he knows. - He kills the best people in the world?

It was pretty much just a list of what he knew about Camilo as a person. Not a very solid evidence list. He didn't have much information to go on. No officer in their right mind was going to show a kid a picture of his mutilated big brother. Well, yeah he was almost eighteen, but apparently that wasn't close enough for these cops!

(Looks like Bean is very suspicious, and Viktor's going a liiiiittle bit crazy, and we already know Amelia's a wreck - gosh darnit, why'd Cody have to go after Camilo!? Oh well, have a blessed day and know that no matter how dark your situation may be, you are loved and cared for !)