Kay didn't get out of be the next day.

She had a temperature, sick from standing in the rain so long the day before.

Pete told her they'd wait, and see if it wore off, before they called a doctor.

It didn't. It just seemed to get worse, so she lay in bed, tossing and turning, feeling absolutely miserable.

She tried to call Quincey, but couldn't bring up the courage. So she tried to text him, but couldn't find the words.

So she didn't, feeling guilty for not doing so.

She slept, mostly. When she wasn't sleeping, she stared out the window, or tried to sleep. It wasn't pleasant. She felt like she was trapped inside an oven sometimes, and others, she was enclosed in a freezer.

The next day, she was still sick, and she didn't seem to be getting any better. Pete still told her that he was sure it wouldn't last, and to just wait a little longer.

That night, it got worse. She started seeing things. Her mother, sitting beside her bed, stroking her hair. At midnight she started screaming, because she had seen James playing in her closet, like he sometimes used to do, then she'd looked away and he was gone. She was crying hysterically because she didn't want him to go.

Her temperature was raging, and she was breaking out in sweats, and gasping at the air around her.

So finally Pete gave in, and called for a home doctor service.

The doctor prescribed some drugs, gave Pete a list of things to do for her, to help her, and told them that if it got any worse, call emergency immediately. Kay only got half of it because of her delusional mind, but Pete took notes on what he said.

Drugged up, Kay finally fell asleep again, and her temperature began to drop back to normal as she slept.

She dreamt of the waves, flowing over her, and she was bobbing up and down.

Then the water around her seemed to disappear and she was falling.

She screamed in terror, and she saw sharp rocks rising towards her as she fell.

But then the rocks transformed, to her mother, holding open her arms in a soothing embrace. Her mother caught her, and clutched her strongly.

"I love you, Brooke. I'm never letting you go again."

It was then that Kay started to cry, because she knew it was a dream. Her mother was gone. She was alone.

She woke up to sun shining on her face. The warm rays falling through her window and over her bedspread. The sky was clear of the rain clouds that had hung over it yesterday, and the day before, and she could smell pancakes wafting from the kitchen.

It was a far-too familiar scene, but she ignored the ache in her chest and rose from bed.

She felt incredibly weak, and had a lingering sore throat, but also felt much better than she had a couple of hours ago. It seemed as though the drugs the doctor had given her were working, because she could see and think clearly, and only had a slight headache.

She shuffled across her soft white carpet to her wardrobe, where she grabbed a fluffy robe, wrapped it around her shoulders, and slipped on a pair of slippers. Rugged up, she trudged out of the room, feeling hungry. She hadn't been eating more than chicken soup while she had been sick, because she hadn't had the strength, and she was starving now. So, she headed in the direction of the wafting smell of pancakes.

Sure enough, Pete was standing in the kitchen, in his own robe, looking tired and weary as he flipped a pan. In a stack beside him was a collection of pancakes, picture perfect, right down to the wad of butter on top.

"You're up." He said seeing her, and relief broke onto his face. "Thank goodness, and you look like you're starting to get a bit of colour back into your cheeks. Do you feel up to eating?"

She nodded, smiling softly at him. "Very. Were you hoping that I wasn't, so you could eat these yourself?"

He smiled, his face still dripping with relief. "You're getting your sense of humour back, too, I see. Grab that plate and go get started, I'll make a few more then join you. The maple syrup is already out on the table."

She nodded, grabbed the plate, and went out to the dining table. He'd already set the table, too, and Kay couldn't help but feel grateful, as well as a little guilty.

She dug into the pancakes, devouring them, not even bothering with the maple syrup until she was halfway through.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" She called into the kitchen, in between mouthfuls.

"Yeah, a couple of hours." He called back, paused for a moment, then appeared with a few more pancakes for himself. After the doctor came you basically passed out, and your temperature started to settle like he said it would, so I went downstairs and got a bit of sleep. I only came back up about half an hour ago, and started making these. You're temperature is down to 37.7 degrees, which isn't ideal, but is much closer to normal."

"Thank you for looking after me." Kay said, as he sat down.

He just shrugged. "It's alright. I made a promise."

Kay looked back down at her pancakes, and finished them off, while Pete got started on his. "The weather has cleared up." Kay said, clearing her throat and trying to make light conversation.

"Yeah, but the forecast says it probably won't get hot again for a little while. You missed a couple of shocker days while you were in hospital, I'll tell you. The rain was almost a nice change. Nothing can last forever, though."

Kay nodded, a lump rising in her throat. She sat there, staring out the window to the balcony, and the clear sky, while Pete finished off his pancakes.

"Listen, I have to talk to you about tomorrow." Pete said, after swallowing a bite.

"What about tomorrow?"

"Well," He said, shifting a little in his seat. "It's my day off. However, in light of recent events, I think perhaps you should reconsider?"

Kay looked over at him, and shook her head, frowning. "No, Pete. I'm not letting you be stuck with me seven days a week. I'll cope for a day without you. Understood?"

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn't. He hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Understood, Ms Keller."

Kay shook her head again, massaging her forehead. "Don't call me that. Ugh... Where's my medicine? I think it's about time I take some more."

"I'll get it for you." Pete said, hastily, even though he wasn't finished his pancakes. Kay felt too ill to bother questioning him, so she let him take her plate, and head back into the kitchen.

A few moments later he came back with a few small tablets and a glass of water.

"Here. I have to go out today, so I can put in the script he gave you. Do you think you'll be okay on your own for a little while?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Kay said, taking the pills from him. One by one she swallowed them, then sighed. "I'm gonna go lie down for a while, if you don't mind. Thank you for the food."

With that, she slipped away, and went back to bed.

For the first time in months, she shut the curtain over the window beside her bed. The sunlight was making her eyes saw.

Then, enclosed in darkness, she lay down. She was drowsy from the strong drugs, and even though she had only just woken up, she found herself drifting off to sleep.

She let herself slip away.

This time, she didn't dream.

When she woke up, the apartment was silent. Pete had obviously gone to get her the prescription.

Groggily, she climbed out of bed and drifted out to the lounge room. It was just as sunny as it had been earlier, and through the glass skylight above her, the sun shone directly over her.

She let herself be washed in the light for a few moments, then it started to get on her nerves, so she pressed the button on the wall that caused dark panels above to glide over the glass, and shut away the light. The only light then was from the windows lining the wall, and the glass door to the veranda.

Kay shuffled over, and went to slide the door open only to find it locked. She frowned. She never locked it. Nonetheless, she went to search for the key, which was in a drawer in the nearby coffee table at the lounge.

The key wasn't there.

I must have misplaced it, Kay thought, slightly confused, I'll get another made later.

So she brushed the thought aside and collapsed into the cool grey leather of the lounge. She grabbed the nearby remote and turned on the TV, before flicking through the channels, searching for something to watch.

There was nothing on, so she pulled up Netflix to pick something from there. After a few minutes of scrolling and not finding anything that interested her, she gave up and went to go get something to eat from the kitchen.

She'd been asleep for a couple of hours, skipping lunch, so she was pretty hungry.

She found some fresh watermelon in the fridge, that Pete must have bought, but it needed to be cut, so she pulled a chopping board out, and went to grab one of the big knives out from the drawer.

Yet, when she opened it, the drawer was empty. At least, empty of knives. There were a few utensils, a wooden spoon and other tools to cook with, but no knives.

She looked in the other drawers, but the sharpest thing she could find was a butter knife. Frustrated and confused, Kay put the watermelon and chopping board away and grabbed her phone, pulling up Pete's contact.

She considered texting him, but figured it would be easier just to call.

The phone rang a few times, before it rang out to his message bank, the automated message that probably comes with his old phone.

She didn't bother leaving a messaged, just hung up and called again. It rang out once more. Pete wasn't one to miss a phone call. Something was up. Either something was wrong, or he was ignoring her.

Part of her was worried, but mostly she was angry, and confused. Where were all the knives??

Frustrated, she simply grabbed an apple instead and went back to the TV. Yet, when she sat down, her mind was even more scattered than it had been before, and she still couldn't pick something to watch. In the end, she just shook her head, turned it off, and stared out the window, thinking.

For a little while, she tried to figure out why the knives were all gone. Then she tried to remember where she had left the key to the balcony.

In the end, she found she was just going round in circles in her mind, so her thoughts turned to her parents. She thought of the notes.

Who had sent them? Who were they? What had her parents done to them?

Surely her parents hadn't done anything awful. Surely not. Maybe her mum had been a little emotionally unstable, but it was understandable. She had lost a child. Not many parents recover well after that. But that didn't mean she was a bad person.

As for her dad, he never caused any sorts of trouble, he was probably the most passive person she knew.

How had they made so many people hate them? Then there came another question. Why hadn't they told anyone?

They were hiding something.

Suddenly, sitting there, staring out the window, Kay suddenly thought of a plan. She stood, and headed back into the office. The internet hadn't heeded any results the last time she had looked, but maybe she had been looking in the wrong places.

While she waited for the computer to turn on, she wrung her hands. Her head hurt, but she didn't want to go lie down again. She could't.

The moment the mac was up and running, she pulled up the browser, and opened her email.

Her inbox was flooded with unread emails. She didn't look at any. Instead, she logged out.

Then, she took a deep breath, and logged in again. This, time, though, she logged into a different email. Her mum's personal email.

Her mother had used the same email since she was twelve, and had gotten Brooke to log onto it once years and years ago, looking for some school excursion note. Her mother hadn't realised, but at the time, rebellious Brooke had written it on a piece of paper, and memorised it.

Throughout high school, the school would send home emails when she did something wrong. They claimed they were a 'fully digital system' and only ever called over phone or sent home notes when it was really extreme circumstances.

When Kay knew she had done something wrong, she would scan her mothers email for a few weeks, or until something came up, and delete any notes before her mother saw them. She never got in trouble for it. Her mother never found out .

She hadn't used it since she graduated, having no need. Now, though, she looked at her mothers inbox, feeling almost guilty, but also as though clues were sitting waiting for her on the page.

She just had to know where to look.

Her mother's account had more unread emails than her own had. Kay looked at the email upon email. None held any condolences. The people and companies that send them probably didn't even know about the explosion. A lump rose in Kay's throat. She swallowed it away, and shook her head.

Focus.

She wouldn't just scroll aimlessly this time. She had a focus.

She dropped her cursor on the search bar, and typed in a single word.

Illegal.

She didn't know if she was expecting hundreds of results, or none, but what came up was not what she thought would.

Just three emails that contained the word illegal, each from three different people.

The phrases in which the word was came highlighted with the emails. The first, from a man names Robert, a name that was almost familiar. It was dated back only a couple of months ago.

...This was already illegal, now its verging on...

The second was from her father's email account, and seemed pretty innocent, and was dated back two and half years.

...aside from illegal parking, did you....

The last was from an unmarked address, from about four years ago.

...getting into this illegal stuff is gonna have consequences...

She briefly looked at the one from her father, only to find it was just some domestic quarrel about a parking ticket. She shut it, and clicked on the oldest first.

It was a fairly short email, but part of a long email chain with this guy. She placed at the email address only to find it was a series of numbers and letters, almost as though it was secret. The email itself didn't have much content, just a few sentences.

While I respect your courage, your greed is concerning. Greed could be your downfall, Iker. I want to ask you if you know what you're really asking to do here. You do know that getting into this illegal stuff is gonna have consequences, don't you? Are you planning on letting your husband in on this secret greed of yours? How do you plan on explaining the rise in income?
Think about this, Iker. There's no going back once you start.

That was it. There was no sign off, not even an initial at the end of the email. It was eerie.

Then there was the contents of the email itself. Whoever it was knew her mother well, or had known her a long time, because they called her Iker, her maiden name that she never used, and wasn't even on her wikipedia page. She was careful with her past, which made the email seem even more so threatening.

All this talk of greed and consequences, it made Kay's gut churn.

It was one of a long string of emails, a conversation between her mother and this mysterious anonymous person. Feeling uneasy, Kay clicked on the first of the chain, and began to read.

Hey, I got this email from you last night. We talked regarding a partnership, and funding. Do you have details on how this would unfold?

So lovely to hear from you, Iker. Before we go any further, I'll need you to visit this link. It is something of a computer service, you could call it. It means that I can have full access you your computer, and its contents, as well as any messages you send or receive. This is to ensure that no files or records of our conversation is being forwarded onto others that shouldn't see them. I would also like you to know that until you have gained my trust, if you wish to go through with this process, one of my men will tail you constantly, to fully ensure our confidentiality and safety. If our promise is broken, you will be killed.
Please click the link.

That is a serious breach of privacy and safety, how do I know you aren't going to just take advantage of me? How do I know I can trust you?

The first thing you need to learn, Iker, is that I will take advantage of you, but that is a given. In the same way, you will take advantage of me. It's a take/take relationship. As for your second question, you have no way of knowing you can trust me. You know virtually nothing about me. On that note, thank you for clicking the link.

Is this some kind of joke for you? Because let me tell you, it isn't for me. Now tell me how I start getting money.

This was where the email Kay had already read sat, and she read it again, this time with a little more context. She couldn't quell the uneasy feeling in her gut. With each word she read, it grew.

While I respect your courage, your greed is concerning. Greed could be your downfall, Iker. I want to ask you if you know what you're really asking to do here. You do know that getting into this illegal stuff is gonna have consequences, don't you? Are you planning on letting your husband in on this secret greed of yours? How do you plan on explaining the rise in income?
Think about this, Iker. There's no going back once you start.

From there, the email chain stretched further, and with a sick feeling in her gut, Kay kept reading.

I'm sure that I want to do this. Of course I am aware of the consequences. My reputation, my career, my record, are all on the line. I know that. And of course I plan to tell my husband. He's going to be a part of this too. I've thought this over. Please.
I'm ready.

I'm not sure you fully understand, Iker. Yes, your reputation and career could be utterly destroyed through this, as well as this, it could certainly blemish your record if it is discovered, but that is not all. This is a dangerous line of money. Sure, you will get quite a profit from it, but only at a cost. I'm referring to your conscience, Iker. This is damaging. Along with that, it's dangerous. Stepping into this, your life is being handed over. Not only to me, but to the people you are going to exploit. Anger is a powerful force, Iker. Revenge will never be sweet for the one who receives it.
Take my word.

I know. I am ready. This isn't just for me. Sure, I want the cash, but it isn't all for me. You know of that, do you not?

Of course, Iker. You have a daughter. The thing is, though, this could do your family more harm than good.

I'm aware. This is the only way out, though.

It is not the only way, simply the easiest, and humanity is inherently a lazy species. I respect you, though, Iker. I look forward to working with you.

That was it. The final email in the thread. Kay's stomach was churning.

Whoever it was that had written the emails, they knew who she was. Whoever it was, they had roped her mother into doing something bad. Something terrible.

Something that killed her.

She scanned through the email again, and one line stuck out more than any other.

Revenge will never be sweet for the one who receives it.

It echoed through her, shaking her very core, because it echoed an inexplicable truth.

Her mother had done something awful, exploited people, from what Kay could tell. Somehow, her mother had caused an anger strong enough to lead to murder.

Yet the email didn't say what. Perhaps both her mother, and the anonymous sender, were being cautious not to say. Avoiding suspicion somehow. Whatever it was, it made Kay feel sick to the stomach.

But there was more. The most recent email, from the familiar name, Robert.

Perhaps his would give her more answers than questions.

So she went back to the search page, her mind reeling. She took a deep breath and with a shaking hand, she opened it. The moment she read the first line, she knew she'd found something.

Finally. A clue. A real clue.

The email wasn't long winded, but it wasn't as short as the ones between her mother and the stranger.

Samantha,
This is getting out of hand. I just got an email from Emanuel Jones' mother, threatening to take this to the press. She's upset, Samantha. You caused her son's death. She needs closure. She needs an apology. If she doesn't get it, she's swearing to tear you down. You know what will happen if this gets to the media. They have resources, and all of it will open up. You need to smooth things over with this boy's mother.
I also need you to consider what you're doing, Samantha. Not only is this unwise for the company, and for us, but it's ungodly. You're killing people, Samantha, and for what? You've payed back the debt. You're sitting on more cash than most people see in a lifetime. Is it not time to stop this madness? Stop the drugs, and the games. Cut him out of your life. Get out of there, while you still can.
People are dying, Samantha, because of you. This was already illegal, now it's verging on manslaughter. You can't keep living like this, and I can't keep living like this.
I need you to end this, or I'm ending us.
- Robert

There was so much about the email she wanted to know. She couldn't for the life of her remember who Robert was, though the name was so familiar. She didn't need to know how he was to understand their relationship.

It wasn't a surprise, really, that her mother had been cheating on her dad. Just another blemish against her record, a strike against the grave. Infidelity wasn't incredibly important though, when coupled with the weight of potential manslaughter.

The email was the first direction she had. It mentioned drugs, and that was as good of a lead as anything.

The one clear cut clue that she had from the email, though, was as she had first noticed, in the very first line.

Emanuel Jones.

Whoever this boy was, something had happened to him. Something to do with Kay's mother. And whatever her mother had done had killed him.

Kay stretched, feeling stiff. She took a deep breath, and shut the email. Then, she opened up google, once again, but this time, with a direction.

The boy's name.

Emanuel Jones.

The first few results were for a surveyors company, a politician, and a C grade actor.

Then, almost to the bottom of the page, was a vulgar news article. It was on a nearby newspaper's site, somewhere south of the city, and was titled, 'Local drug addict found dead in abandoned home'

The article was short, and wasn't overly detailed, just briefly speaking of how Emanuel had a reputation for getting aggressive when high, and how his only family was his mother, Adah Jones, who claimed her son had been trying to come clean.

The article didn't hold much information, and Kay wasn't sure if it was really accurate, but it gave her the name she needed. In a new tab, she pulled up the white pages website, restricted the search to the south of the city, and typed in the mothers name.

Unfortunately, Jones was an incredibly common name, and because the site only used initials and the last name, her search gave her two hundred and sixty three possible candidates.

She needed a better plan.

Just as she opened google, though, to try something else, she heard the door open.

"Kay?" She heard Pete call. "I'm back, and I have your medicine."

She hastily shut the browser, and logged out of the mac. She didn't really understand why, but some part of her told her not to tell Pete what she'd been doing, or what she'd found. She was still trying to comprehend it herself. She didn't want to share the burden with someone else.

"Hey Pete, I'm coming." She called back, and shut down the computer before standing up.

She took a deep breath, steadying her shaking hands and headed out. Pete was putting some groceries away in the kitchen, and smiled at her when she walked in.

"Hey Buttercup." He greeted, while putting away a jar of some kind sauce. "You hungry? I grabbed us some fresh bread for lunch."

This reminded her of her troubles earlier. "Yes, I am in fact. I tried to cut up some watermelon while you were out, but bizarrely, there were no knives around. Care to explain?"

She gave him an expectant look and he froze, confirming her suspicion that it was his fault. She couldn't for the life of her figure out why he would do such a strange thing.

"Oh, sorry about that. I'll cut up some watermelon to have with lunch." He said, obviously avoiding the question. "What would you like on your sandwich?"

She ignored his attempt at avoidance, and cleared her throat, raising an eyebrow. "Pete, where are all the knives? What's going on? And while you're at it, do you know where the key for the balcony is, because I could have sworn it was in the drawer of the coffee table, but it isn't there."

"Can we talk about this later, Kay?" He said, looking uncomfortable.

"No!" She said, raising her voice, getting frustrated, and annoyed. " Pete, stop trying to get out of this! Just tell me what's going on, and why you are acting so weird?"

She was yelling, exasperated, the tension and confusion getting to her. She had too much to be confused about. She didn't need something else. She didn't want Pete to start acting weird, and distant.

He looked at her with sympathetic, and almost worried eyes. Then he sighed, and in a tired and weary voice, he spoke, stopping her in her tracks. "I don't want to lose you."

She was silent, shocked for a moment. Then she frowned. "What?"

Pete looked away, and Kay saw tears welling in his eyes. He leant against the counter, and took a deep breath. "You scared me. At the cliff-" His voice cracked, and he shut his eyes. "I thought you were going to jump, Brooke. I thought you were going to fall, and I'd lose you too. I might just be your driver, tied to you by a contract and a steady flow of cash, but you mean a lot to me. I care about you. And-" He hesitated again, then opened his eyes, and looked over at her. "When I saw you on the cliff, I thought that was it. And I didn't want it to be over. I don't want you to die, Brooke. I don't want to lose you."

She was still, a lump in her throat, and her own eyes tearing up as she looked at the old man in front of her, the only person she had left. Someone that cared about her. Someone that cared whether she lived or died.

"I hid the knives, and locked the balcony door because you scared me." Pete said, with a sigh. "I don't want you to try to kill yourself, Brooke. I couldn't live with myself if I let you go."

"I-" Kay hesitated, then took a deep breath. "You can trust me, Pete. I'm not going to commit suicide. I don't want to die. Truly."

He sighed, looking pained. "I know that, Kay. I know that right now, you don't want to die. But up on that cliff... You weren't yourself. You were going to do it. I could see in your eyes. I want to trust you. Of course I do. But I'm not sure if you can trust yourself, Kay. You get stuck in those visions, and you are different. You get lost. I don't want that to happen again, when I'm not around, and lose you for it."

She could see in his eyes that he was scared, that he was telling the truth. A part of her knew what he meant, too. She knew she got lost when she had the flashbacks. She couldn't see straight. Since the accident, they'd only gotten worse. Before, she might have one every few weeks. Now, she was having them daily.

She sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. "I don't want to live in fear of letting me out of your sight. I don't want you to be scared of losing me."

Their eyes met, and Pete let out his own sigh. "I know, buttercup. I know that. I can't help it, though."

Kay looked down at her hands, and noticed that she had been wringing them. She stopped, and took a deep breath.

"I'm going to go to a psychologist." She said, after a moment. "The hospital said I should, anyway. I think it's time. I've waited long enough to confront these problems. I have to face it."

There was a moment of silence, then Pete spoke, his voice soft. "Hey Kay?" She looked up, to find he was giving her an earnest look. He smiled at her softly. "You'll get through this. You're taking the first step, and though it's brave of you, it needs to be done."

Without warning, she felt herself tearing up. Pete noticed, and wrapped her in his embrace. She cried into his soft flannel shirt and he just held her. Kay could feel a weight being lifted off her chest. Perhaps it was because she finally had a plan. Perhaps it was because she was finally confronting the problems she'd been dealing with for far too long. Perhaps it was because someone finally cared about her.

Whatever it was, it made her feel comforted, and the tears that fell onto Pete's shirt weren't of sadness. They were of relief.