GUYS GUESS WHAT I've made a teaser trailer/meet the cast video for HSHL! I'm a crappy film maker, but please have a look above and let me know what you think! also, have a look at the part directly following this for some exciting news. enjoy the chapter - ann 💕

Mon,

I'll send pics when I have time. Sorry, busy with school and stuff.

Remember when we were talking about last year? Well, I never told you how angry you made me. How you left me. How you chose them over me a hundred times. And I never got to tell you, because it was too late for you. 

All those years of being best friends and all it took was a seat at that table.

I'm sorry. I'm just stressed. But even then, I'm still being honest.

Chloe.

Jack was still hammering through my mind as I clipped my seatbelt with trembling fingers and clutched the steering wheel. My mind had long surpassed its ability to think rationally. All I could think of was how fast my world was crumbling, and how limited the time was for me to fix it.

"What the fuck?" I hissed, the words barely breaking through tears of frustration.

Nobody was supposed to know about my double-agency. And out of all of them to mess with things, it was Jack-fucking-Thomas.

I accelerated out of the car park, revision for the test long forgotten. I had one thing on my mind now, and that was the footage. The one piece of evidence that could hold the key to breaking everyone down in one hit.

My mind wild, I subconsciously directed myself through the after-school traffic and to William's house. I wasn't completely sure why, but it made sense. If I was going to break into Mike's house, he should know.

I texted him and waited for five minutes, tapping my fingers against the wheel anxiously as my car idled. Every ounce of control I thought I had over the situation had been ripped from underneath me, leaving me with the overwhelming feeling of being trapped in a corner, vulnerable.

Jack didn't understand my need for revenge. That I owed it to her. That they took something from me, and I couldn't let that slide. They needed to fall. Not level one in general, or the hierarchy itself, but the nine people written on my list, them and them personally. Well, maybe with one exception.

When Will tapped the roof of my car I jumped before rolling down the window, clutching my racing chest.

"Afternoon," Will said, his expression growing curious when he took in the stressful look that must have been plastered over my face. "Nobody's home, you can come in if you like."

I nodded once and turned off the ignition, taking deep breaths as Will led me up the pathway to his front door. I was detached from every piece of my surroundings, feeling as if I was floating on the desperate and impatient need to act fast.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he closed the door behind us, crossing his arms over his chest. He was wearing a shirt and jeans, something relatively casual compared to the formal dress code of Arlington that I usually saw him in.

"Jack Thomas," I said, the emotion clear in my voice. "He's seeing Sophie, and he's completely aware of everything I'm doing. He doesn't care, William, he doesn't care what they did to her and he doesn't have a problem with telling them everything. The only reason he isn't is because he's getting some sick satisfaction from the drama and has this allegiance with them all and—"

"Slow down," Will said, squeezing the bridge of his nose from my bombardment of information. "So Jack knows, and we're screwed if he says something."

I bit my lip. As far as I could tell, Jack had no idea about the arrangement I had with Will. He could have just assumed I'd managed to seduce him enough to trap him into dating. That, or he figured I had William well enough controlled that he was my puppet. He didn't know Will was betraying his friends intentionally.

"I'm screwed," I confirmed, deciding not to acknowledge that detail. I gritted my teeth to stop the growing pressure of the emotional tears building behind my eyes. I was just so frustrated. So terrified of what would happen if he did tell them everything. They'd destroy me.

And even worse, it would mean that they'd never truly pay for what they did.

"Chloe," Will said, stepping forward, his emerald eyes searching mine. "Deep breaths. We can work something out, just stop freaking out."

"How can't I freak out?" I asked. "How, Will? Because right now someone else is pulling the strings, and if I don't do something before he makes that final decision then chances are I'm going down fast."

Will thought for a second, his frown set on the ceiling before he sighed. "Chloe, what's the worst case scenario here? They find out you want to take them down, and they ruin you socially, whatever. They can only tear you down so much, so long as you don't have a hold on them they can only go so far."

I kept quiet. He didn't understand.

"You can step down now," he continued. "Stop this whole revenge plan. Let Monica go. She made her decisions, Chloe. I'd like to see them suffer for what they did just as much as you, but if you're this worried about it going wrong then you need to put yourself first."

"Is it because they're your friends?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Are you on their side now, you want them to get away with it?"

"No," Will said, the tension in his jaw indicating that I was clearly frustrating him. "I'm on your side, which is why I'm telling you this."

I backed away from him, my head feeling clearer with each step. "If you're on my side then help me. I'm going tonight."

"Tonight?"

"I'm stealing the footage. All of it. I need to beat him to it, Will," I said, knowing how completely crazy I sounded. "Just understand me, I need to do this. I can do it in one shot. This can all be done by the end of the week."

"Chloe," he said, his tone cautious. "Breaking in..."

"I know it's crazy. And it's dangerous. But I've really thought this through. If I can get my hands on it then it doesn't matter if I'm caught, I'll have enough evidence against Mike himself that he can't report me." I searched his face for any sign of him caving.

"And if you don't get that far then you're probably going to have a criminal record before you even graduate," he pointed out.

"You don't understand." I screwed my eyes shut in frustration before opening them and pacing the room, my eyes barely processing the lavish decor and the fresh blooms of roses sitting in crystal vases. "That's the problem. You don't realize that my best friend is worth all of these risks."

"And what about her?" Will asked. "Would Monica do the same for you?"

I thought about that. The way Monica and I were as close as sisters all the way up until junior year. The way she ignored me in the hallways as she walked directly towards Lola Davenport only six months ago.

"Yes," I said. "But, it doesn't matter. You just don't know what it's like to have a friend who'd do anything for you."

"I think you're delusional, Chloe," he said. His eyes softened, as if he felt sorry for me. My hands balled into fists. "I don't think you realize what you're getting yourself into, and I'm worried."

"Well then you're lucky I can do this on my own from here," I said. "You don't need to be involved anymore."

"So that's it?" he asked, throwing his hands in the air. "After the other night, after finally agreeing that you'd accept me as a friend instead of a chess piece, you'd still rather shed the one person who's looking out for you rather than acknowledge that someone cares for reasons more than just their own benefit."

"Think of it however you like," I said. This was not going to plan, and my stress levels had at least tripled since crossing the threshold. "I shouldn't have come here."

"Maybe you shouldn't have," he muttered, turning so he was facing away from me, his hands falling onto his hips.

"I just wanted to tell you that I was doing it," I said, my voice shaking, almost testing to see just how far I'd messed things up.

"When?" he asked, his tone neutral.

"I'll get to the house at around three in the morning," I said. "All three of them are home until eight, but I'm running out of time to scout the house. If I get there early enough then I can make sure they've all left."

He was quiet. "Okay."

"That's all?" I asked. "This is it?"

"Yes, Chloe," he said. "The more I worry about you the more you push me away. So go do it."

His sudden change from scolding to uncaring brought a lump to my throat. But I wasn't going to backtrack now. I leveled my chin and took a deep breath. "Goodbye, then."

"Good luck."

And before he could turn around to give me one last look, I fled out of the front door. I was angry. But this time it wasn't directed to him, or to Jack, or to anyone but myself. I let the hot tears run tracks down my face as I slammed the car door behind me.

It took a while to steady my breathing enough to enter the house. I hated myself for being so stubborn, for being so quick to get pissed at him. He just didn't understand. He only knew half of the story, and that was the post-Monica half.

Monica's crinkled eyes met me as I entered my room, her sweet smile wide and her red hair framing her face in wisps. I couldn't stop my hand from reaching out and knocking the photo from my wall, the glass cracking as it hit a shelf below it.

"I need to do this," I whispered, my hands pushing the hair from my face. I felt like coiling into a ball and locking myself away from the mess I'd created. No, not me. Level one. Level one created this.

I was on my own now.

My mother was at her Pilates class and I had no idea where my dad was, so I paced the living room erratically, going over sequences of actions and finalizing the details of what I was going to do.

The way my stomach rumbled almost brought bile to my mouth, and I knew I had to eat something. If I wanted to concentrate, at least. I couldn't afford to miss anything when it came to perfecting this.

The fridge was full of every food anyone could desire, or at least the ingredients to make it. My eyes skimmed over the assortments of yogurt and fruit that I kept for myself, and I pulled out a banana. I sat on the counter while I ate it, my hands trembling.

William was right. I was so delusional. I thought I could get away with this without anybody knowing. I thought Jack was my friend. I dabbled with people who I knew were dangerous, without properly covering my tracks.

I threw the peel in the bin and opened the fridge again, my stomach turning violently. There was a container of chocolate muffins that my mom had been given from our neighbor. Monica and I used to come to my house every Tuesday afternoon to eat them, before we were worried about what clothing size we were or how much cellulite was on our thighs compared to Sophie Rutherford's.

One couldn't hurt. It could soothe my nerves and remind me of what I was doing all of this for, what I had lost when Monica left. I peeled the paper away from the smallest one and nibbled on the edges, a voice screaming in my head about how fat it would make me. How Lola or Sophie would never eat a muffin. How my body reacted hungrily to each calorie.

I couldn't stop. I ate the whole thing in three bites, my mouth and brain conflicted. It tasted so good, and a vision of Monica laughing as she wiped chocolate from my nose in sophomore year flitted across my vision.

I had another. And another. Three in total. My stomach ached, and I felt dirty all over. So guilty I was crippled. And I still felt lonely, I still missed her so much it physically pained me, and I was still failing so miserably at taking them down for her.

"I'm sorry," I cried into the empty kitchen. I'd fallen to the floor without fully processing it. I'd lost control in my plan and now I was losing it in my life. I could already feel the junk food squirming through my veins, adding an inch here and there and bloating me to the point where I was bursting.

Sobs started before the tears began, and then I was having a complete break down on the kitchen floor. Of all the times I'd felt isolated, I'd never truly been this lonely. I didn't have Jack as a friend, and I never did. William was disappointed with me. He thought what I was doing was wrong. And Monica...

Stupid, you're so stupid. I was supposed to have analyzed everything. I was supposed to be one step ahead of everyone.

I clutched my stomach just in time for its contents to rise and spew onto the tiles. It was disgusting, and shame deafened me, anxiety clawing through my brain.

It took me hours to clean both myself and the kitchen. I showered, my body somehow going mute after the influx of emotion. That was the only way I could do this; if I shut out all emotion.

I was Chloe Whittaker, and I wasn't here for anyone but Monica. I wasn't here for myself, or for William, or for what was right and wrong. I was here to get revenge for my best friend.

After my break down, I became a robot. I mutely went through a list of things to take with me, from binoculars to a black piece of material to cover my face. I had a lock pick, thanks to a handy investment I made last year, and I had a crow bar from the garage, in case I got desperate.

Sleep was impossible to find, no matter which way I lay or how hard I tried to ignore the white noise blasting through my mind. Before, it had been racing. Now, it had shut down. I'd found an animistic medium where I could act and not think. That's what would make this possible. I couldn't let myself get paranoid or over-think.

At two thirty, I rose from bed, grabbing the black jeans and leather jacket I'd prepared. I laced heavy boots around my feet and braided my hair so it was far out of the way. I was feeling much more determined than I had that afternoon, the shock having worn off, leaving behind a desperation to make this right.

I was grabbing the keys to my mom's car from the hook when headlights filtered through the silk curtains and into the room. I squinted for a few seconds before they switched off, the night feeling even darker than it had before.

It was no coincidence that a car was outside of my home at this hour. If it were either of my parents, they'd have come through the gates by now.

I walked closer to the window, narrowing my eyes. It was hard to make anything out in the night, but when he stepped out of his car and under the street light my heart hammered heavily in recognition.

Wearing dark clothes and exhaling chilly clouds of condensation with each breath as he shoved his hands in his pockets, was William Bishop.