Dear Secret Keeper,

I have done as you asked. I looked for any clues or information that the Kleizmick Mansion might give. The only thing I found out was that Jason or Jordan were almost named Justin.

I know it's not very helpful, but perhaps if I knew what you were looking for...

I don't know what you want from information on the Kleizmick's, but nothing good will come out of it. I suggest you let it go, whoever you are.

- Vera

A/N: The following chapter hints towards themes of anxiety, self-harm, depression, suicide and other disorders and/or triggering content. If you believe that any of this content could be triggering for you, please do not read this chapter.

Just PM me and I'll be more than happy to send you a chapter summary!

I killed him.

Those were my first thoughts this morning, and I knew my resolve was breaking.

The worst part: we were going to the basketball game. The one he was supposed to be in, leading the team.

The day had gone by in a haze. They were all blurs, colors mushed together as I tried to drag myself through the day without collapsing into an intolerable fit of tears.

I didn't kill him.

It had become the sole thought of my being this past week, but it was getting softer and softer, a simple whisper of the wind, one that my brain used to believe, but no longer.

The school bell rang. After that, everything went blank.

I don't remember if I packed my books in my locker. I don't remember how I got home. I don't remember if I said hello to Vincent. I don't remember how I climbed the stairs up to my room.

All I know is that a few hours later I was curled up on my bed, mascara running, hands shaking, body shivering.

I looked back at the time. The basketball game started in thirty minutes.

I picked myself up, off the bed and drifted to the bathroom. My fingers tied my hair up, they wiped the mascara off my cheeks and reapplied it, they precisely dabbed lipstick on, they rubbed some powder over the dark circles under my eyes, they applied some blush to give some color to the sickly pale face of a lifeless shell that stared back at me through the mirror.

I opened my locked bedroom door and dragged myself through the empty, quiet house. My parents had left the house for the weekend, both on business trips and they had given my brother permission to hang out for a while at his friend's house. It was because of this silence that I had finally realized just how truly empty I was.

Just how alone I was.

My hand grabbed the keys as I forced all thoughts of Jason out of my mind to no avail. I had managed to walk into the garage and climb into the car, my fingers pressing the key in the ignition.

I backed out of the driveway and onto the road, heading for the school, my hands and legs doing the driving as I tried to fit my broken pieces back together.

I pulled into the parking lot and entered the gym. My mind was barely aware of Julia approaching and guiding me to the stands. I didn't notice Jordan standing beside her, both of them trying to talk to me, figure out what was wrong. They were asking questions.

Why do you look so pale? Are you okay? You look sick? Do you want some water?

I gave them the general answers as my mind tried desperately to latch onto their words.

Do you want to go home?

My head snapped up and I shook my head, no. I didn't want to go home. I couldn't go home. I couldn't face the loneliness that would eat me up, the entire space pressing up against me as I tried to breath, tried to find my way out of the ever confined space that brought the suppressed memories to light, that tore my walls down and forced me to face the ugly truth.

No. I couldn't go back home.

Eventually, the two stopped pestering and sat down on the bleachers, still throwing cautionary glances. I sat down with them.

I watched as Alyssa flipped through the air and on top of a pyramid, signifying her position as captain. I watched as she hid her sadness and pain behind the armor of her make-up and a fake smile. I distantly processed how Julia and Jordan should've been down there, helping the team or playing the game. They must've been pushed to the sidelines because of Jason.

I should've been down there too. I was supposed to be in charge of organizing everything, making sure the concessions and parking and other activities of the first game of the season goes smoothly.

An instinct told me that I had called in sick during the time that I had blacked out. I mildly wondered how I knew that.

Then the boys rolled out.

One-by-one they walked out onto the court and then the sidelines as their names were being called. I noticed Tyler walking out to the court and finding my eyes, his filled with worry as he took a seat. Another instinct told me that I had managed to piss him off on the way home.

Lucky me, the voice in my head spoke, bitterly, oozing with venom.

Finally, the team captain was called out. I didn't know his name. I didn't know what he looked like until his figure popped up in the middle of the court. I didn't know anything about him. All I knew is that he was someone. Someone else. Someone other than Jason.

I tried to tell myself what I had been thinking for the past week, ever since that evening, but it wouldn't work. The voice had gotten stronger again, but only this time, it omitted the single most important word.

I killed him.

They had replaced Jason: the constantly laughing and teasing Jason, admiringly optimistic, annoyingly charismatic, tough leader. He was the most precious soul on the planet. And they replaced him in the blink of an eye, like one would replace a lost gym sock, without a second thought.

And I killed him.

A pounding grew in my head as the thoughts filled me more, boiling inside me, turning everything into a turmoil. There were thoughts, memories swirling around, trying to find an order, a resonance. But it was fruitless. All of the thoughts and memories flew out of control. They became a hurricane of fury.

I killed him.

The crowds of students jam packed together was too much. The bounces of the ball hitting the floor were like bullets shot through the air, blasting their way into my brain, killing bits and pieces one by one. The cheers and shouts of the cheerleaders were shouts of agony searing down my throat. The beats of the buzzer sounded like the ticks of a time-bomb, counting down the moments until it unleashed it's fiery wrath on me.

I killed him.

I killed him.

I killed him.

I didn't notice the time on the clock indicating half-way through the second quarter or the shouts and exclamations from Julia and Jordan or the worried glances from Alyssa and Tyler as I stood up. I pushed my way through the deafening crowds, trying to contain the tears flooding my eyes. I bolted down the bleachers with no sense of purpose or direction, just to get out of the prison built upon my nightmares.

I didn't stop. I ran. I ran like always have, running away from problems, from memories. Like I ran from the police lights, from the guns, from the exploding windows, from the woods, from the falling bodies, from the guilt, from the anger, from all of the emotions that had built up inside of me for the entirety of my minute little existence filled with regrets, remorse, and lies.

I ran from it all.

A few more moments of mindless running and I found myself across the school, entering the bathroom, headed for the biggest stall. My fingers made no move to close the stall door as I shrunk to the floor, tears streaking down my cheeks, matting my shirt and hands in black waters.

There was a river inside of me. A river of emotions flooding and overflowing on the other side of a barrier. The water fought against invisible glass walls, forming cracks, dripping through the small crevices, slowly filling the other side of the bare land, spreading more and more cracks like tree branches, the pressure building to the point of collapse as I tried, desperately, to fix them, to close the gaps, to rebuild the glass walls. But it was futile. Everything was collapsing. One sharp shard after another was falling down, each one a stab to my heart. Each one allowing more water, more guilt, more anger, more self-hatred to flow through and land at the pit of my stomach.

One single memory became prominent in my mind, and I replayed it, unable to stop myself as the scene unfolded. I saw a girl and boy walking through the woods. I saw them joke and argue. I saw the girl push the boy off the bridge. I watched as I sent my best friend, my older brother, falling over the bridge of life and into the eternal abyss of chaos and nothingness. The abyss of death.

The memory was like a punch to the gut, a sharp knife piercing through the heart, a cannon launched through the air, blazing with destructive fire, as it smashed through the wall, shattering the last of it, bringing every last shard down. The water flooded past the absent barrier, filling me with everything the barrier had blocked. The memories swarmed my mind, the sadness flooded my eyes into a watery sea, the anger clenched my fists and dug my nails through my palms, the guilt slammed me to the ground as it made sure every part of my body felt pain. The pain of Jason's death. The pain of being a killer. The pain of lying. The pain of hiding. The pain of swallowing up my emotions. The pain that Jason must've felt when he fell to the ground, his body, his entity, his soul splattering across the rigid terrains of hell, clipped wings oozing golden ichor that seeped through the mud, rocks, and leaves.

The glass wall had finally collapsed.

I puked.

I emptied all of the contents inside of me. The food, the pain, the bile, the anger, the resentment. Everything left and entered the murky waters of the toilet, turning it into a revolting sea of sadness. I flushed the toilet, letting it carry everything away and leaving me with only a shell of a being, left to fill the empty void with only simple and pure guilt.

Guilt for hiding everything.

Guilt for denying it all.

Guilt for letting Julia get arrested.

Guilt for not being strong enough to come forward.

Guilt for fearing that Jason's death was real.

Guilt for not being able to face the truth.

Guilt for running from his dead body.

Guilt for pushing him off the bridge.

Guilt for letting Jason try to cheer me up.

Guilt for pestering him.

Guilt for walking through the woods.

Guilt for ever getting close to the Kleizmick's.

Guilt for interfering with their lives.

Guilt for always drawing trouble.

Guilt for destroying everything I touched.

Guilt for being alive.

I don't know how long I sat there, wasting away, praying that maybe, just maybe, I could ever make up for what I've done. For the crimes I've committed. For the sins that colored my life. For the guilt.

Or if I could ever rest in peace.

Somewhere in the distance a door slammed open. A voice called my name. I didn't respond. I couldn't respond. I just stared at the dots designing the stall walls, completely and utterly broken.

The person calling my name appeared at the stall entrance, green eyes landing on my desolate eyes.

Jordan's arm fell to side as the image of me sunk in. "Good god."

He surged forward, falling to the ground beside me, wrapping arms around me, holding me close as I buried my face into his sweatshirt. There was something about his hugs that made you feel safe. They made you feel worthwhile. For a moment I was convinced that I could be put back together. I believed that I was still a human being.

I missed his hugs. I loved his hugs. But I didn't deserve his hugs.

Tears started to form again as I remembered what I had done. I killed Jason. I killed Jordan's brother. In killing one beautiful soul, I had killed multiple others. Other souls that never deserved the pain, the death.

It needed to end. It had to end. All of it.

I pulled away from his warm grasp, tears still spilling, "Jordan I-I did it."

Jordan shook his head, "What are you talking about? Vera, we should-"

"I killed him," the words tumbled out before I could even consider stopping myself. "I killed Jason."

Jordan blinked, "What?"

I inched further away, "I didn't mean to. It was an accident, I swear."

Jordan blinked again trying to move closer, "Vera, what are you talking about?"

I swatted away his outstretched arms as I continued rambling, "I was there that evening, when he died. I was just walking through the woods path and then he followed me-"

"Vera, let's get you some water or something."

"N-no. I need to say this!"

"You're not making any sense!"

"Jason was just sitting on the bridge and I gave him a little shove... I didn't mean to push him off. But he fell anyway. By the time I found him-" my voice cracked. "I ran. I shouldn't have. I should've stayed. I should've turned myself in. I should've done anything besides run."

Jordan stared at me, face blank, eyes calculating.

I involuntarily broke back down into tears. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"That's not true."

My heart shattered and I realized that still had one left. I looked back up at the hurt expression in his eyes, "I- what?"

"You didn't kill him."

I breathed a sigh. That's what he had been talking about, the death, not being sorry. "No. I did it."

"No, you didn't."

"Yes I did!"

"No."

"I pushed him off the bridge."

"No."

"I left him for dead."

"Vera!" he grabbed both of my shoulders. "Look at me."

I forced myself to meet lock onto his green eyes.

"You didn't kill him. He didn't die from falling off that bridge."

My mind spun. "I-then- what do you mean? How did he die? Who killed him?"

The sadness behind his eyes shone as he stared back at me, mirroring my earlier expression of regret, "I did."

My heart stopped beating.

"I killed him."

Vera: Vote if you're confused.