I lean over the black backpack that will carry all the essentials needed for this plan to work, recounting the supplies for the third time. Wash cloth to wipe the blood off Samara's tires, check, false suicide note, check, screwdriver to remove all cameras nearby, check, and some snacks in case we become hungry, check. Now, all I have to do is wait patiently for Samara's car to pull up in my driveway.

A sense of unease, something akin to dread, settles in my stomach. Almost as if my body is sending me a warning signal, telling me not to go through with the crime I'm on the verge of commiting.

Before any more doubt about my upcoming actions creeps in, I remind myself that I am not a horrible human being for this. Even my mom has been assuring me that everything will be okay and I know that if Poppy was still alive, she would be too.

I heave a long sigh and muster up all the courage needed as the screech of car tires fills my ears. Coming with the sound, though, is the striking realization that I forgot to complete the crucial first step of this entire thing: texting Ryan. If he isn't aware that I wish to meet up with him tonight it would wreak havoc on our plan.

I push the negative thoughts telling me that he might leave me on delivered or not even be home right now out of my mind and grab my phone. Hey, I was wondering if you're free to meet up outside of your house tonight. I wanted to talk about how to prove your innocence. I type out and hit send.

Seconds later, my phone vibrates with a response.
Yeah, of course. It says.

I smile to myself, his message immediately boosting my confidence that this plan will work as smoothly as possible.

I spend a little longer texting him, making sure he knows that I will arrive in roughly ten minutes. Then, I swing my backpack over one shoulder, kiss Mom goodbye, and rush out the door to where Ashley, Kelsey, and Samara are waiting on the front porch.

"I'm so ready for this!" Samara exclaims, showing off an overly jubilant attitude.

"Don't mind her. She's been practicing for this moment." Kelsey states.

"No I haven't been. You're making me sound like a psychopath." Samara protests.

"That's cause you are a psychopath." Just leave it to them to completely cheer me up when I'm anxious.

"Guys, stop bickering!" Ashley, definitely the mom of our group, scolds them.

We all gather into the commodious seven seater car, with Ashley in the passenger seat and Kelsey and I perched behind. I supply Samara with the necessary directions, navigating her to the street adjacent to Ryan's. Ashley, Kelsey, and Samara will be parked there, just out of Ryan's view, while I distract him. I check the time displayed on my phone: 9:31.

"Samara, at 9:35 you can start driving and do the honors." I inform her. That gives me exactly four minutes to chat with Ryan and confirm that he dosen't suspect a thing.

"Got it." Samara replies.

"Time for some sweet revenge." I say as I exit the car, the frigid night air immediately brushing against my exposed arm skin and erupting a shiver out of my body.

I contemplated wearing a black hoodie to look even more inconspicuous, but settled on leggings and a dark colored T-shirt instead. This way, I look a lot less shady and can better allay any suspicions of Ryan's.

As I approach his house, I notice his slim figure casting a shadow on the sidewalk outside of it. Luckily, he stands with his back facing me, meaning he's not going to be facing Samara's car when it approaches either.

"Hey, Ryan. I know you're innocent and I really do want to help you as much as possible. What can I do to help?" I ask, speaking in the most friendly tone I can muster.

"You don't understand how much I appreciate that, Ivy. I'm so glad I have your trust." He says and all of a sudden, something in me freezes. My brain tells me to stop. Poppy tells me to stop. Deep down inside, I could feel that Ryan is genuinely innocent. Deep down inside, I could feel that this was wrong of me to even think of doing.

And all of a sudden, everything occurs at once, events bleeding into one another rapidly.

I see Samara's white BMW cruising down the street so close to the curb, it's wheels itching to run Ryan over. Have four minutes really passed already? I question myself.

I see myself creating frantic hand signals, begging Samara to shift back around.

I see my attempts failing and Samara crashing the car into the back of Ryan's leg before stepping on the brake a little too late.

He falls backward with a clamorous thud, the pressure immediately causing a stream of blood to pour from his temple. I panic, seconds away from calling 911, until he shoots his eyes open and pushes himself up off the ground long enough to utter a few strained last words.

"Wow Ivy, you really broke my trust."