I am in a cathedral, St. Benno in Coral Hills to be precise.

The neatly decorated nave is lined with one occupied pew after another. I look up to the Gothic rib-vault ceiling and then towards the high stained glass window. Everything looks dark, except for the lines of burning candles beneath the high windows.

At the altar, there's a priest, clad in a violet robe. He's saying something but I can't focus on his words. I want to know what he is talking about, so I move closer, passing all the people sitting in the pews. I could name some of these people, but most of them are unknown.

I am confused. Why am I here?

I stop at the end of the aisle, beside the first line of seats but there's still no sound. My eyes travel to the mass of people once again and then I spot someone.

Nathan.

With his hands clasped together and his elbows rested on his knees, he's leaning forwards. He's wearing black clothes, like all the other people sitting in the cathedral. It takes me a moment to acknowledge the life in him because he looks so still, not even a small flinch. I stare at the hollow look in his eyes.

There are just vast depths of nothingness in them.

I take a step forward to approach him, but I am stopped in my tracks as I take in the person sitting beside him.

It's me.

A younger me. Maybe a few years back from now.

If it's possible, the younger version of me looks even worse than Nathan. My blonde hair is limply lying around my sans emotion face. My parents are sitting next to me too, with the same kind of sadness on their faces like I had seen on those angel statues in that cemetery once.

Consuming sadness.

And then it clicks.

I immediately turn on my heels to face the altar again, and this time my eyes fell on the open casket. With tentative steps, I stumble my way up the stairs.

I gasp as the absolute still and lifeless face of Emma comes in my view.

I don't cry or anything. I simply stand there until I feel the presence of someone beside me. Nathan steps forward, drops a rose on the casket and then there's a wave of emotion on his face.

I feel my heart twitch in pain as Nathan's lips quiver and tears well up in his eyes. He looks so weak and vulnerable, as if he's ready to give up on living altogether.

"I love you," he says in a whisper, looking down at the casket.

Feeling like a intruder, I turn away and close my eyes, hoping that doing so would take me away from here.

When I open them, I am still here and then there's a flash of a dark figure that starts from the epistle side and then vanishes off out the door. I hurriedly run down, covering the stretching of the aisle in a just few seconds, and then stopping in the narthex of the cathedral.

It's empty but it's still just as ornamentally decorated as the insides of the church. I look in all directions to find the dark figure but there's no one there. I feel defeated.

I pace towards the heavy wooden gates of the church to run outside but they are locked, and so are all the other doors, except for the door that leads back to the service.

I don't want to go inside, but I can't stay here either. I am suddenly afraid of the dark figure that I know will come for me. It's puzzling to me how I know that.

With hesitant steps and short breaths, I once again enter the church and notice the sudden change of air.

The decorations are different, there are less number of people now, the priests are different, and even the incense is changed.

I am confused. I shuffle towards the altar again where Nathan was. I am scared and he's the only one that can help me.

The distance feels never ending and after what feels like hours, I reach there, but as soon as I do, I feel my heart drop, and my knees buckle and about to snap.

Standing there is not Nathan.

It's Daniel.

His eyes are downwards and there's so much pain in them. So much that it can rip my heart out, and which leaves me panting for air.

No, no, no. This can't be happening.

I can't tear my vision away from him. For a brief second he closes his eyes, takes a shaky breath and when he opens them, he has the same look as Nathan had earlier.

Haunted.

That's what he's now and I know that it is what he's going to stay like for the rest of his life.

His eyes are back to stare at the casket but I don't look towards it.

I don't need to.

Because the seat beside Nathan's where the younger version of me sat, now lies empty. That answers it.

"It's all your fault," someone whispers from behind. I could identify that voice anywhere. It belongs to Emma.

"I know," I whisper back.

He's still there, with that shattering sorrow in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I say to him, but it's even less than a whisper and he doesn't listen.

When I woke up, I had my face buried in the pillow. Like all the other times, I wasn't gasping for air nor thrashing, but I did feel drained out, exhausted and very well aware of the patch of moisture on the pillow cover.

With a prolonged groan, I tried to roll off the bed but just ended up flopping back on it.

"Come on," I murmured to myself, throwing the afghan off me. "Get up."

Rolling my stiff shoulders, I was finally up and dragging myself out of the room and then down the stairs.

The sweet, cinnamon like aroma of waffles sailed all over the place as I plopped down on one of the kitchen stools.

"Do you want bananas or strawberries with it?" Dad asked, taking out a steaming hot waffle from the maker.

He tried to do the whole cheery and happy morning person act but the weariness was clear in his voice. His eyes looked puffy and sleep deprived. I surmised that he must have been up all night, reading, unable to go to sleep.

"I'll just take the chocolate syrup," I answered in my groggy voice and then pressed my face down on the cold marble counter and closed my eyes.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," I replied, my voice muffled.

"Lying again?"

I stayed silent.

"What do you think about idea of going back to the therapist?"

I was so not expecting him to say that. I whipped my head to give a wide eyes look.

"I say it's a bad idea," I said, as the plate with chocolate dripping waffles was pushed towards me.

"Well, you know our deal," he reminded me of the whole 'New York' pact, but acted as if was more interested in choosing the right topping for his waffles.

"Whatever," I breathed out. "Just tell me where and when I've to go. It's not like it would my money that will be going down the drain anyway."

If he was going to play the indifferent card then so was I.

Instead of getting the stern look that I knew I had earned, dad just tossed me a smile. "Don't do the whole "stubborn teenager" thing with me, sweetie. You're too old for that now."

I decided to ignore that and paid more attention on eating and once I was done, I quietly retreated back to my room to get ready for school.

I could easily say that if you looked at all my outfits that I had worn to school, the one which I ended up wearing today was the blandest. I didn't feel like picking a dress and then thinking about matching accessories for it and neither did I feel like doing anything with my hair. So what I was wearing as I lumbered down the stairs was an olive green sweatshirt, blue denims and a pair of sneakers with my hair in a bun. And no, it wasn't one of those cute 'messy' buns that actually take your entire lifetime to master. It really was a true messy bun.

I looked like an infected specimen during a zombie apocalypse and the worst part was that I didn't even care.

My eyes were half closed and I was at the end of the stairs when I caught the sight of something sitting on the cocktail table.

It was full size violin, nestled perfectly in its deep blue case.

"It's a Jon Cooper," dad spoke, walking out of the kitchen.

"When did you get it?" I inched closer to it with so much caution like it was a ticking bomb.

I picked the violin up in my hands, its smooth surface feeling like magic under my fingers. Call me cheesy, but I got that feeling whenever I held a violin.

"Yesterday," he said. "I was going to give it during dinner but you refused to come down after you got home yesterday."

My eyes slid shut as I winced in silence.

I was trying to keep my mind off yesterday, dad!

And now all of it was back in my head, strong enough for me to start crying again.

How could I destroy something so perfect?

Any other girl in my place would be swooning, giggling and hiding her face in her pillow to hide the blush, and then there was me, who had used the pillow to bury my face and cry for hours instead since the minute I got home yesterday evening.

I was confused for what I was madder about, at myself for running away or actually sharing that moment with him in the first place.

Why did I have to be such a jerk? Why didn't I listen to my brain and go with the plan of staying away from him?

"Yeah, I wasn't feeling well last night."

It wasn't a lie but not exactly the truth either.

"Hmmm."

"Anyway, I'm running late. I better run," I said, placing the violin back in its case.

"Alright," Dad spoke as I approached the front door, "and I made an appointment Dr. Fraser for this week. The best therapist in town."

Best or not, it wasn't like anyone could do anything.

I wrenched open the door and stepped out in the morning air.

The hallways of school like usually were already filled with the noise of banging of locker doors and people bustling to their respective classes, and even though I knew that he wasn't there because of his interview, but still in a way I was looking for him. I was looking for him even though I had no idea what I would do if I did find him.

Ever noticed how the single thing that you're trying not to think about is usually the only thing you can think about?

Gathering my hair in my hand and pinning it back with a clip; I let out a deep breath sigh and shuffled to my first hour class.

It was boring, and so was the other one and by the time third period came along, I was convinced that I was going to flunk my subjects with the lack of attention I was paying in classes.

I took the same seat that I did yesterday, near the window. The concept of having a little distance between me and the other people seemed nice.

I was staring out of the window, which looked out at the football ground, when the teacher, Mr. Parker, arrived and started talking about the upcoming tests and how a new student was going to join us from today.

I couldn't care less about the latter, so I just kept drawing random things on my eraser.

There was a knock on the door, and Mr. Parker spoke, "Ah, you must be..."

He turned around to take a look at a paper lying on his table to read the name but the person at the door beat him to it, "Anya Conrad."

The eraser got clutched in a death grip as my head whipped around and my eyes wide at the voice that I thought I was never ever going to hear again. The speed with which I reacted was so fast that I accidentally pushed my binder off the table. It landed on the ground with a loud 'thud', bringing the attention of everyone towards me, even the attention of the 'new girl'.

I mumbled a sorry as I bent down to pick the binder up.

What was happening? Was this a dream too? This was so out of the blue.

I discreetly pinched myself to check that this wasn't some kind of ‘Inception’ like dream within a dream thing happening. But nope, she was still there, walking towards the front of the class with every single eye present on her, not like anything could blame them.

She looked flawless.

Shiny chocolate brown hair up in a sleek ponytail, rimless glasses, tight black denims, a jacket which belonged somewhere on the DKNY catalog, and Kurt Geiger ankle length boots.

What happened to her? Extreme Makover: Anya edition?

The Anya I remembered was a girl who loved sneakers, her several baggy Beatles t-shirt, few of which were passed down from her mother to her, her endless Beatles merchandise, and her huge nerdy glasses, which indeed, really were cool.

I quickly averted my eyes when her eyes flickered over to me. I wasn't able to catch the look on her face but I surmised it wasn't something that I would like. After all, for her I was the mean girl that dumped her a year and half ago.

I acted to be paying attention to the blank paper in front of me, but I was listening to every word as she introduced herself in front of the class. There was a wave of surprise as she told that she was already a student here until her tenth grade, before she took up home schooling.

Guess, no one remembered her from earlier. Not that it was something surprising. At the end everyone forgets about you slowly and steadily.

I was trying to calm my nerves down as after the introduction, Mr. Parker asked Anya to take a seat, and gestured to the open seat in front of me. By the looks of it neither I nor Anya liked the instruction very much. She opened her mouth to say something but then washing the hesitance off, easily took the seat.

I was reciting prayers silently to somehow make the class sooner, because I swear my wind pipe was starting to feel clogged in the crowded classroom, and when the class did end, I was the first one to jump out of my seat and leave the room.

"Wait up!" A voice called from behind.

"Hey, Mike. What's up?" I said, turning around and quickly took a cursory glance at the door of the class to see if Anya was there or not.

How pathetically was I behaving? I was acting like she was here to kill me or something.

"I wanna know the same thing. What's up? It was like someone was stabbing you to death there. Is something wrong? I mean leaving aside how you look today?"

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks," I riposted sarcastically.

"You know that girl, right? I remember you used to be friends with her." And the way he said it reminded me of the time that he told me about his mom while we were lost in the woods.

"Seriously, you're really strange, Mike. How do you even remember this? I'm sure no one else does."

He just shrugged his shoulder, not looking offended even to the slightest bit. "I am good with these things. Anyway, I'm really hungry. Let's go have lunch. I was seriously contemplating how much nutritional value paper has during the class."

I shook my head but chuckled as we changed our way to go to the cafeteria.

Anya wasn't in any of my other classes, but that didn't mean that I wasn't thinking about her.

Why was she back all of a sudden?

As if I already didn't have enough things to worry about.

Oh god, I was being depressing again. I should just call Nathan later.

It was just the last period that was remaining and I was free to home and then sulk about Daniel and over-think about the scenario of Anya's return.

I was heading towards my history class when I heard Shay's voice talking to someone. I wouldn't have been interested in knowing more about it if it wasn't for the person she was talking too.

"Hmm, Anya. That's a really strange name. By the way are you sure you're just returning to this school and not coming for the first time? Because I don't think I've seen you around," Shay inquired in a fake sweet tone. Her one hand was on her hip and the other one flipping her straight long hair back.

Anya, who with her high heeled boots reached up to Shay's eye level, didn't seem to be feeling the heat Shay was sending her way. "I think I would know."

Maybe it wasn't such a sassy comeback or anything of that sorts but it still felt strange, because just two years back a small 'shut up' would have been enough to make her cry.

Obviously Shay didn't like someone talking to her like that, and the transition to her 'queen bee' attitude was quick. "Well looks like you obviously belonged to those freekazoids anonymous people that nobody cares to know about cause I totally can't remember you, and trust me I know everyone, or at least the one that are worth knowing."

Okay, that was harsh.

"Shay!" I called, pacing towards her. "Liam's been like totally looking for you everywhere. He needs to tell you something."

"He is?" Shay asked, completely confused. "Why didn't he just text me?"

"I don't know," I played dumb. "Maybe you should ask him that."

"Yeah, whatever," she mumbled, and then threw Anya one last look over her shoulder. "See ya."

Shay strutted away but Anya didn't reply. She just sent her a blank look.

"You didn't need to do that." I had already turned around to leave when she spoke.

"I didn't do anything," I answered, my heart beating menacingly in its place. "And don't mind what she said."

"I didn't," she replied, looking square in my eyes, and for the very first time I found her dark brown eyes really intimidating. So much that I had to look down.

I was slowly inching away, as if somehow that was a proper way to leave a conversation, when she spoke again, completing what she was saying. "It's not like the worst thing that has ever been said to me and plus this time it didn't come from a friend, or so I thought you were one."

Clearly, she wasn't over the things of the past yet.

'I would rather rot alone in the dumpsters than be friends with a mega-loser like you, Anya Conrad.'

That was what I had said to her the day of my return in the tenth grade.

Was I a massive bitch? Yes. Was I aware of that? Yes. Would I do such a terrible thing again if it meant keeping my best friend away from my madhouse of a life? In a heartbeat.

"I hope you're not holding your breath for an apology," I said, with a tiny hint of a smirk.

There was a special place in hell for me.

"Oh, sweetie that was like a lifetime ago. I almost even forgot your name during this time."

Ouch.

"And by the way," she crooned, and leaned closer to my ear,"you really stuck to your words, didn't you? Rotting in the dumpster and all?"

And then what I got was a look of pure disgust from her as she did a head to toe scan of my appearance, and after following it with a smirk she left.

Should have thought twice before coming to school looking like a hobo.

I guess I should have felt more offended at her remark and the look but I knew where she was coming from. Anyone would have done the same thing as her if they were told the things I had said to her once.

But looked like my jerk treatment had brought the strong, fierce part of her forward. So at least something good came out of it, right?

Alright, alright I knew I was a despicable best friend.

I heaved another breath and then proceeded to attend the last lecture after which I had decided to muster up some courage and go to Daniel's house again.

Didn't know what I was going to say but I had to say something, because if I didn't do it now I would have to do it tomorrow, when he returned to school, anyway.

I could only run for so long.

-

-

-

"No dad, I don't know what I want for dinner," I spoke into my phone. "Okay, I'm gonna hang up now. I am driving."

"Okay, be safe," dad said. "See you at home."

"Yeah, okay bye." I tossed the phone on the shotgun seat as I keyed the car. The engine hummed as I steered it out of the school.

My palms were sweaty and my mouth was getting dry. How was I going to start this thing?

'Hi, how did your interview go?'

Yeah, no. That won't be right.

'So what happened wasn’t right…'

Nope.

Urghh!

This was going to be painful.

My skin was already feeling clammy as the car entered the lane which had the Cohen house at the end. I immediately killed the engine three houses away, as I noticed the powder blue Ford, which had been ahead of me, come at a halt in front of Daniel's house.

To both my surprise and confusion, Anya appeared from inside of the car.

What was she doing here?

I watched quietly as she took out her phone, hurriedly typed something and then leaned against her car, as if waiting for the main door to open. And it did.

And the person whom I intended to talk to came out. Just one look at him and there was a sudden onset of nervousness inside of me.

He was wearing formal clothes with a black tie, which had gone a loose and now just lazily hung around his neck.

I was busy staring at him and hadn't taken in the whole scenario, until Anya took few steps ahead and flung her arms around his neck to give him a hug, smiling for the first time today.

What the hell?!

I was parked too far and also Daniel had his back turned to me now, so I couldn't see properly but I could make out that he didn't look at all surprised at her action.

And then my brain went to over thinking and hyperventilating mode.

How did they know each other?

When did that happen?

Was it during the time I wasn't here?

If so, why hadn't Daniel ever mentioned that he was friends with her?

And was he just friends with her or...?

Well, it was already known that he was really good at lying, just as good as I was. So was this another of those things that he had been hiding?

But so what if he was? I had been convincing myself to distance myself from him. So that meant it shouldn't affect me how Anya's face brimmed as she was talking to him, right? If yes, then I had a major explaining to do as to why then I had my nails digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood from it.

But there was a click in my mind. Maybe this was needed to happen. The two of them.

I had hurt Anya enough for one lifetime, and I knew it very well in my heart that staying with me would only destroy Daniel furthermore.

He already had enough problems of his own; he didn't need me to add another one to the list. He wasn't going to end up like the person who he was in my nightmares, not if I had any say in the matter.

So uncurling my fists, I dropped the idea of the talk that I was dreading to have. It was never going to happen.

I would exclude myself away from both of their lives. And it was final.

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

More of a filler kind of chapter and nothing major happening in it, but it will be here soon. It's building up slowly and steadily.

So what did you think about Anya's character? Like her? Don't like her? Tell me your views. =)

And that's Olivia Cooke (Anya) on the side--->>>>

Btw did anyone see the PLL summer finale? I almost teared up at the end and I can't stop listening to the song that played at the last scene. It's on the side if you wanna hear.------->>>>

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