Recap...

"NOTHING!" Willow screamed, "HE DID NOTHING!" She spun around to face Ro. "Don't you see? She's happy I'm angry at you. If you continue to infuriate me, I'm going to inflict emotional pain on you, she's going to make me send you these waves of– I don't know how to explain it, but I'm sure you do, and it's going to happen. She knows what's going on... she's... she's in my head." Ro met Willow's eyes, starting to wonder if Willow was correct. "She sees what's happening. If you don't believe me it works better for her."

"How do you look like her?"

"Haven't you heard of all those crazy parallel universe theories? I'm Sophie, in another universe. That's why I look the same, that's why she's able to control me. But she's only able to control me... which means that Keefe must be in on it too..."

"And Marella, Biana, and Linh," Ro added. Willow looked up confused, "Marella is Blaire, Biana is Cassandra, and Linh is Delta."

Willow's jaw dropped. Then she narrowed her eyes, "they aren't the same people. We're different, and they're taking that away from us. How do I know that you aren't possessed too?"

"Does it look like there are generally ogres in Princeville or where ever we are?" Ro questioned.

Willow pursed her lip, "I guess not." Her eyes filled with determination, "Let's go find Logan."

"Wait, but what about Fitz? If Avery is here then–"

"No, they're different. Avery is under someone else's influence. Fitz isn't... an evil mastermind."

"How do you know?" Ro asked.

"I just do."

-------------

when the edge is looming above

when you're halfway through the fall

it's easier to believe

you haven't fallen at all 

"Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it!" Her voice, strained, angry, rippled through the empty house. Her feet, sore from pacing, would not yield their constant pain, and her head throbbed. Was it a side effect of everything falling apart? Of too much coming together at once? Of betrayal? Pain? 

Destruction? 

She had been working for hours, since long before the sun went down. Now it was peaking through the windows, a reminder of the days past. Of how many she had left. 

The kitchen lay in a constant state of mayhem. Plates were strewn across the counters that had been used multiple times without being washed. Water cups, both full and empty, covered any open space. But most of all, worst of all, was the blood. It stained every crevice, every nook, and cranny. She had spent days on her hands and knees, scrubbing away, only to finally succumb to the notion that it wasn't going anywhere. It had stained her home. 

Just as it would forever stain her reputation. 

But what she had done was important, she reminded herself. The sacrifice was necessary, dire, even. Perhaps it was a death wish, but death was inevitable anyway, so why not lay heavily upon that "perhaps." Perhaps is better than certainty, right? Or is hoping, albeit the possibility of losing, a million times worse? At least with certainty, you have time to prepare. 

when all your hope is gone

you can only hope for hope

but it's hard to hang on

to a quickly fraying rope

She had promised herself, two days after she'd done it, that she wouldn't cry anymore. Crying had cost her two days. Two days she would never get back. She had stood, wiping the neverending tears with the back of her hand. She had set to work, determined to make everything worth it in the end. Because if they were right–– or really ––if she was right. Then it would all be fixed in the end. 

She would have him back. 

But what if she was wrong? If it was all for nothing? Then what? 

If it was wrong... well, if it was wrong, then it wasn't her fault. She had only been trying to save him, to free him from the world. From the boy who stood between them. It was better than the alternative. 

when your world is upside down

it's best to turn upside down too

because then everything that's not

is suddenly all true

And yet... what was the alternative? That day was almost as blurred and tarnished as the blood-covered walls. She could see the blood, god how she wished she could unsee it. She could feel it even, there was no forgetting any of that disgust, but everything else? It was gone. Hidden. Beyond the blood. 

But she couldn't clean it from the walls, and she couldn't clean it from her mind. 

It was his fault. It was all his fault! Right! Right. 

Right?

Then where was the proof? Where were his footprints? Because she could only find hers scattered in the blood. What kind of elixir had he used? What allowed him to leave no trace at all? 

As if he was never there? 

As if she was crazy?

As if it was her fault?

She couldn't stop herself, she had to check. Had to look once more, despite the promises she had made to herself. Somewhere there was proof of what the boy had done to her and her love. 

Determined, she walked out of the kitchen. Her footsteps, both quiet and unnervingly loud. Each step stuck to the floor just a little bit. She didn't let herself dwell on why. 

But her feet were stained red. 

when you think someone is bad

you'll give them all the blame

even if it's you who should be

feeling all the shame

She made her way to the back of the house, where the putrid scent was undeniable. The door took a little shoving before it finally swung open, leaving her with a strange sense of deja vu. She sighed, loudly, as she remembered why. 

The blood that pooled under the closet door was hard to miss, but she tried to ignore it anyway. With a final step, she was merely two paces from the door. She reached for the knob, her hand trembling as, it too, stuck for a bit too long before turning. 

Ignore the blood, she told herself. It's imaginary. It's not real. 

It was. 

when the edge is looming above

when you're halfway through the fall

it's easier to believe

you haven't fallen at all 

when all your hope is gone

you can only hope for hope

but it's hard to hang on

to a quickly fraying rope

when your world is upside down

it's best to turn upside down too

because then everything that's not

is suddenly all true

when you think someone is bad

you'll give them all the blame

even if it's you who should be

feeling all the shame

when it's too traumatic to remember

when you claim it was from a different time

you forget you only get one life

there is no second try

The door swung open and amidst the dried blood, all she could see was a pair of ice-blue eyes staring back at her.

Unmoving. 

Forever

Foster, forever. 

Yeah... 

I know what happened, I have it planned out in my mind, but it seems quite fun to end the journey like this. 

To keep you all guessing. 

Do you want to know?