Things at Toronto General Hospital weren't any better.

River stood with a pillowcase over his head, two holes cut for his eyes. He was exhausted by the constant stream of questions people kept asking him.

"Why did you confess?

"Are you lying about what your mother did?"

"Did you enjoy being a model?"

"Will you go back to modelling when this is all cleared up?"

It was too much for him, which is why he decided to take a break and get some iced coffee from Tim Hortons. Despite Cecile's warnings about caffeine, he didn't care anymore.

Nevaeh handed him his phone and he saw a video of Mia being chased by security through the hospital halls. "They probably have more charges against them than any of us," Nevaeh commented, holding a few bills.

River couldn't help feeling self-conscious as people stared at him, but he knew covering his face was the only way to avoid being recognized.

"Mia sent me a Snapchat saying that Eden's siblings all turned up at the hospital. Security is being extra careful because they think they're going to beat someone up," Nevaeh explained.

They stood in line at the hospital Tim Hortons since they were still allowed to roam freely. River knew some people here, but most of his acquaintances were at Sick Kids hospital.

"Do we know when our court date is?" he asked.

No one knew for sure, but it had to be soon. The news reports were everywhere, with interviews of people who weren't seriously injured. They especially wanted to interview him because of his involvement in the incident with his mother.

He didn't want to talk, but he knew that his mother's fate rested on his testimony.

He kept wondering whether people would care if he arrived later.

Would any of that matter once the words "supernatural abilities" entered the court room?

He imagined strangers reading his name from documents, reducing his entire life into bullet points beside his mother's crime.

While Nevaeh ordered the food, River shoved his hands in his pockets, then immediately pulled them back out.

Visible hands. Relax your shoulders. Chin up.

The instructions slammed into him automatically, years of runway training rising to the surface before he could stop it.

He hated that now, after everything Cecile had done, part of him still worried about looking unprofessional.

"Am I getting stared at?" he asked Nevaeh.

He had never been a fan of attention, even during his modelling days. Despite whether the cameras were flashing brightly or the crowd was clapping, he still felt that all eyes were on him.

"You and me," she replied, handing him a bag and a cold cup of iced coffee.

"Let's find a place to eat where we won't attract too much attention," Nevaeh suggested.

River wasn't sure where they should sit, knowing that if he removed the pillowcase, people would immediately start recording and asking him questions about his mother's arrest. He didn't want any more attention than he was already receiving.

As they looked around the busy cafeteria, he knew this wouldn't help their situation. Conversations dipped as they passed. Some lifted a phone, then another, pretending not to aim directly at him.

Suddenly, Mallory appeared in front of them and stated "You guys really stick out a lot. I mean, everyone is already staring at us. My parents actually came."

"Mine haven't," Nevaeh said. "Why don't you reveal yourself, Highlighter? You want to be a normal teenager, right? I want to be in some pictures too."

River let out a sigh and slowly removed the pillowcase with one hand.

The cafeteria shifted.

A group of girls near the condiment station gasped and immediately lifted their phones.

One boy whispered, "That's actually him," while another backed away nervously after noticing Nevaeh beside him.

A nurse slowed down mid-step, staring for a second too long before forcing herself to continue walking. Someone farther back was already live-streaming.

River heard his own name ripple through the cafeteria in waves.

"Oh my god, that's actually River Dunlop."

One girl sounded excited. Another sounded horrified.

Someone nearby whispered, "His mom's the designer that got arrested, right?"

River suddenly couldn't tell whether people recognized him because they admired him or because they viewed him as part of the disaster.

It wasn't just his mother's fashion that people were fawning over.

Despite having fans, he rarely touched social media anymore.

During modelling shoots, photographers always told him he was "born for attention," but attention had never felt warm to him.

It felt sharp.

Like being skinned alive under bright lights.

Nevaeh then said, "And it's is that you cheated on your boyfriend."

The blonde girl in the group widened her eyes in shock. River knew that Nevaeh's power allowed her to hear the girl's thoughts.

The people around them fell silent and stared with wide eyes. The freaks still had their powers, which made them much more of a threat.

"And now you're panicking because your boyfriend got injured in a car accident," Nevaeh chimed. "Karma can be a bitch sometimes."

People still asked questions, regardless of what people had done.

Cindy bopped in front of them with her arms crossed and a frown.

"I'm not here for pictures," she said dryly.

It was clear that Cindy had no interest being in the spotlight like him. However, people continued to record and try to get his input.

This wasn't one of the main reasons why he hated undercover journalists during his time as a model. They were always asking questions, especially about his future plans. Even if he hadn't quit modelling, that would have been his future, regardless of whether he wanted or not.

"Well, we're waiting to see if Extra shows up and does a report on us," Nevaeh said, forcing a grin that didn't quite stick. "I mean, I know we're all over the internet, but I'm hoping for some real fame."

River's stomach dropped so hard it hurt. Heat crawled up the back of his neck as flashes from phone cameras lit across the cafeteria.

His posture straightened automatically—shoulders back, chin angled perfectly, hands visible. Cecile had drilled it into him so deeply that his body still obeyed before his brain caught up.

He tightened his grip on the iced coffee until the plastic cup started to crackle.

This wasn't merely about modelling anymore, but due to his mother's arrest and the chaos surrounding Simcoe.

He glanced down at his iced coffee, took a long sip, then hurried out of the cafeteria with his head down.

Nevaeh scurried to catch up, while Cindy bopped away because she didn't want to be ambushed with questions.

"I would have thought there would be more reporters," Nevaeh remarked casually.

River shook his head.

Journalists weren't technically allowed inside anymore, but that barely mattered.

Patients recorded things. Visitors leaked photos. Staff whispered.

The hospital wasn't protecting them from attention.

It was just containing the chaos indoors.

"I know I'm supposed to start acting like a normal teenager," River muttered. "Cecile used to say coffee bloated your face on camera. She said sugar made people soft-looking."

He stared down at the donut bag Nevaeh's hand.

"I still feel guilty eating stuff like that."

His obsession with health and nutrition made him feel nauseated whenever he looked at sweets. He had become aware of calories intake and monitoring how much he consumed. That's why everything had to be gluten-free or made from fresh fruits and vegetables stocked in the fridge and freezer.

"It's not like she's here telling you those rules anymore, is she?" Nevaeh inquired.

As he hurriedly made his way to the elevator, people continued to cast curious glances in his direction. Even a few nurses and doctors paused mid-step, badges swinging as they looked him over before remembering themselves and moving on.

"We won't have peace even if your mom is going on trial. All of us still have supernatural abilities, so we're bound to get pictures and videos streamed," Nevaeh stated.

They exited through the sliding hospital doors in sharp April air.

The distant wail of an ambulance echoed somewhere beyond the parking garage while the garden glowed weakly against the dark. Melted snow stuff clung to the edges of the pathway in dirty piles.

He sat on an old bench with his head in his hands.

The garden was empty, but River couldn't relax.

Hospital windows towered above them like rows of glowing eyes. Every flicker of movement behind the glass made his chest tighten.

For all he knew, somebody upstairs was filming them right now.

"I can't even hide in my room, or nurses will start asking questions," River muttered.

He knew he had to talk to lawyers about his own case, but he didn't want to. It wasn't the questions he feared—it was the moment after, when they decided whether his answers were enough.

"I mean, most of us are just recording the chaos from other hospitals," Nevaeh said as she gestured towards her phone, displaying various Snapchat stories.

The videos primarily featured Mia, who was being dragged back to her room. River knew the crackheads were delinquents who had gotten into trouble with the law, so their presence on trial has become a dangerous thought.

Gravel crunched nearby.

River lifted his head as someone stepped into the path, hospital lighting catching against the white bandages wrapped around his arm.

"I don't think hiding out here will do much good," Noah Richers said.

They called him Stripper, because sometimes his clothes came off before his brain caught up. His arm was in a sling, bandages wrapped around most of his body.

"Isn't that the arm you broke?" Nevaeh asked.

River didn't know this boy. He's heard about someone that strips randomly, but people have said he controls his habit.

"Yeah, apparently I did some nerve damage with it," Noah admitted. "I honestly don't feel it from Emma's healing. It's crazy how many people are swimming around for information. I could barely get a sandwich without people staring."

"Court isn't going to be pretty to begin with," Nevaeh said with a long sigh. "The number of charges people can lay is insane. It's not just with the brothers or crackheads, but all of us."

Noah laughed, shaking his head. "Honestly, I'm glad I'm not involved with the freaks' trial. I've heard rumours they're actually planning to place Mia among them due to her past charges," he said.

River looked around the hospital garden. The space was designed with rustic benches that offered people a place to sit. The benches were arranged along a winding stone pathway, which went through clusters of small trees and flowers.

"They want all the freaks handled together," Nevaeh said bitterly. "One hearing. On giant disaster. Get us all lined up and questioned like we're some kind of exhibit."

She looked down at her phone.

"Apparently separating everyone would 'slow down the investigation.'"

It was that quick? Have the adults all around decided they need someone to blame, so it falls on the freaks? It's not like any of the freaks had admitted they still have their powers.

In her hospital room, Cindy sat in silence, her gaze fixed on the window as she watched the night sky. The television in the corner of the room flickered to life, streaming gossip reports related to survivors of the bubble.

"Do you know if your sister is at the other hospitals?" her mother asked gently.

"She died."

They should have realized something was wrong when Melany wasn't sharing a hospital room with her. Melany had always been the responsible one when it came to calling or texting where she was going.

"She was shot, and I was stabbed in the eye. That's why there's that new scar on my face," Cindy grated.

It felt less stressful when a parent didn't show up than when one did.

"Who shot her?" her father asked.

Memories hit like a punch. Blood had dripped down one cheek while tears streamed down the other. She had sat helplessly on the ground, a knife lodged in her eye. Melany had been there—protecting her from Luke.

She remembered crying so hard she couldn't breathe.

After that came anger.

If she could erase that day, she would. But Melany had told her to move forward.

"Luke."

Her throat tightened.

"But he's dead."

Now, sitting in their sterile hospital room, she should be thinking about eighth grade, about graduating elementary school. But there was no school, no ceremony—just the scar, this memory, this quiet rage.

Cindy bopped away from her hospital room and into one of the sitting areas on the main floor. Running a hand over her face, she felt the stress of the conversation with her parents.

Everyone knew the Bubble changed her.

Her parents still wanted details she hadn't said aloud.

She tried to tune out some stares from passing strangers, forcing herself to focus on staying in the hospital. The city beyond the window seemed vast and unwelcoming, unfamiliar streets stretching endlessly.

"You good?" Mark's voice pulled her back.

He sat across from her, hunched over a box of chicken nuggets, chewing distractedly.

Cindy blinked. "My parents keep asking me about Melany's death. It would be easier if they could just have the memory implanted," she muttered.

Being out of The Bubble was stressful enough. The questions, the stares, the endless reminders—it felt like the world wanted her to relive it over and over.

"Yeah, my parents want every detail," she muttered, eyeing the floor. "Like I need a reminder that the whole world burned."

Everything derailed when Luke attacked the daycare.

The storm brought endless dangers, including wicked illnesses and third-degree burns. Although, it was the dangers of unprotected sex that ultimately saved them like flies.

"So many people died," Cindy murmured.

Melany. Esme. Ilya. Jade.

The names blurred together now.

"Never thought Bella and Stick would sacrifice themselves," Mark said.

The golden boy and golden girl who had lost their status as the world fell apart.

"They had it coming, even if it sounds heartless," Cindy spat. "Stick and Bella both knew they couldn't be redeemed after the actions they committed."

Ever since Eden exposed them, Stick and Bella had been doomed.

Back then, nobody interrogated them in school.

Now they were dead.

"Stick saved a life while Bella set Jason free," Mark interjected.

That was how their sacrifices were made when they chose for their lives to end.

"They were saying they found nothing left of Ashley, Divina, or Cassandra's bodies," Mark stated.

Cindy had assumed between the burning fire that set them all from Simcoe.

"Cassandra saved us from more harm," Cindy remarked.

Though Cassandra had traits related to a second Greyson by fierce determination and relentless ambition, her true desire was to protect everyone around her.

Even in a world where lives were lost, thanks to the chaos surrounding them, Cassandra's presence had shielded them from further destruction. The threats they faced could have been far worse than hypothermia; they could have fallen into a continuous nightmare after the storm passed.

Its wasn't merely the tragic reality of death that loomed over them; it was the sinister grip on drugs that cast a long shadow. Cindy was aware of the dangers associated with drugs use, and Hanna was constantly lecturing Ilya. Yet, despite her warnings, Ilya stumbled upon a source for drugs that she never should have discovered.

Mia wasn't like Hanna, who had warned her that drug dealers rarely refuse an offer. Hanna had assisted Ilya to turn down such options, but Mia only buys drugs so she can sell them. The girl who had been buying and selling drugs since sixth grade.

The dangerous world the crackheads posed significant risks—those delinquents were resourceful and knew how to get what they needed through theft or other illegal activities, including sneaking into clubs.

"Most of the accusations will be against us freaks because of all the destruction that has been called for. I think people are worried about the power plant," Cindy said.

The power plant was a site where an incident occurred.

Initially, Uden went to turn on the electricity.

Then, Luke ruined it for everyone.

Greyson killed him after Scarlett got hurt.

The aftermath had included gruesome injuries, and it was Jason who had caused structural damage, leaving a large hole in the building.

If she closed her eyes, she could recall things she didn't want to remember. It may have given her some measure of freedom from her parents, but Luke's attack had left a permanent scar in her mind.

They are all expecting them to walk into court without the pain some of them endured. Seeing death like it wasn't new because people had died every day in that place.

Cindy looked out the window at the glowing lights of buildings. Passersby on the sidewalk stared. Some whispered behind hands, eyes flickering nervously toward her and Mark. Others shook their heads or quickened their pace to avoid looking.

"Hopefully court goes smoothly, but it won't," Cindy muttered.

There were barriers from not just the endless questions but those attending court.

"You mean the crackheads?" Mark inquired.

They would be the four to somehow cause a disruption in the middle of the court session. It could be between laughing or getting sidetracked somehow.

A shrill alarm ripped through the hospital. Cindy clamped her hands over her ears. Pain shot through her skull.

Mark's eyebrows knit together. He looked around, confused.

"Why is it so loud?" Mia asked, casually munching on a cake pop, as if nothing were happening.

Cindy froze. Mia wasn't supposed to be here.

"Did you run away from the hospital?" Mark inquired.

"Yeah, I escaped for fun," Mia replied dumbly.

Cindy could only stare blankly at Mia as she pressed her face against the glass window, admiring the view of the glowing lights.

"Eden's gonna yell at me," Mia sighed dramatically, catching sight of a security guard. "And Bryce will probably hit me in the head."

Cindy knew that Mia was used to running from security. She had heard that the crackheads often ran from the police in Toronto, which made it no different from stealing or buying something illegal.

"I haven't even done anything wrong. Why are they getting so stressed that I left the hospital?" Mia sighed, ducking behind Mark.

Security ran past, and people gave them stares. Most of the looks at them were out of fear, anger, or pity. It wasn't just because they had survived death, but some of them still had supernatural abilities.

The judgment was worse than anything she had seen before. Even trying to tell her mother about her teleportation was a battle. Everyone assumed they were all the same, but they were damaged in ways that couldn't be fixed.

"This is just like running from the police, but, I don't think using my body as a distraction will work," Mia huffed.

"I doubt that's what they're worried about," Cindy said dryly.

The adults were all concerned about what they might do with their supernatural powers. They were worried if someone accidentally burned down a building. Or if someone's thoughts caused nurses to be flung out of a window to their deaths.

"Well, I'm running back to the hospital," Mia whispered, and she took off.

"They were saying that Bella's dad couldn't even tested because he died three weeks ago," Mark said as Cindy eyed him.

"They'll probably have her mom confess, but she might just cover everything up by saying there was no other way," Cindy muttered.

"All of us are at least facing charges, but it depends on what the government decides. They said the hospital knew something was wrong with Ashley," Mark added.

Cindy had heard about the document Eden found. It could be used as proof that Ashley was responsible for the chaos, since it was her supernatural power that created the bubble in the first place.

James stared at the window at the glowing streetlights lights. He glanced back at his laptop, still charging, scrolling through an endless stream of articles and comments about the ongoing crisis.

He heard about them going to court, but it didn't serve their purpose. Everyone already knew the sequence, even if it made little sense.

First, two stars fell from space.

Then Ashley, trapped inside the barrier with them somehow created The Bubble—and with it, the wreckage followed.

People still argued about what Bella's father created—something inhuman dumped in a ditch, or something that entered Ashley's body through an open wound.

"I get that they want court, but don't they already have the gathered facts?" Angel asked.

James looked over at the boy he shared a room with. Angel didn't have much of a big role until the end, when all the daycare had gone to ash.

It had happened in stages James still couldn't fully sort out.

First Ilya overdosed first.

Then the younger kids started falling sick.

Leading to Layla ending her life before anyone realized how bad things had gotten.

Amid all the chaos, Angel was the one who stopped Luke. Without him, none of the children would have survived.

Just like himself, he didn't have much confidence in using his power until he fought off everything that happened.

"The government doesn't want to take the blame," James said.

Just then, one of the older nurses named Susie entered the room and approached Angel with a small cup containing medication. "I'm quite surprised you didn't have any seizures during the Simcoe tragedy. Did anyone say you had any?" she asked.

"They've been controlled lately," Angel remarked.

James looked back at his laptop as he remembered people saying Angel did have epilepsy. However James had always assumed that without medication, Angel would experience more seizures.

"I'm sure your neurologist will be quite glad to hear that," Susie beamed, but she had a strain in her voice.

As Susie walked out of the room, Angel took his medication with water. "They even act strange when I have an actual condition," he muttered under his breath. "Nurses are supposed to be nice and compassionate, but all I see is the horror and fear."

James watched the clear liquid slide down the IV line into his arm. His legs still ached whenever he stayed still for too long.

For months they had lived on cabbage or fish. The first real food hadn't come until Cassandra brought in Foodland from the outside.

"They fear or hate us because they blame us for Simcoe being in ashes," James mumbled.

After Simcoe's destruction, the images never stopped. Police photos, reporter footage—but mostly pictures taken by the residents themselves. Burned houses. Blackened streets.

One of James's old teacher's posted what was left of Uden Academy on the school website. The comments filled fast. Most of them were laughing emojis.

The adults looked hollow in the footage. Some didn't even blink when they spoke.

Teachers stood in front of cameras or ruins, talking about lost jobs and missing records.

Some of those documents were never meant to be found. Greyson's birth certificate was one of them.

"Many of the teenagers don't seem to care," Angel remarked.

Some even found it exciting and cool that they had supernatural powers or how Simcoe could no longer be a town.

"It would be difficult to even try to rebuild that place. Ashley burned everything there, mostly," James stated.

He had seen the power plant destroyed and Uden Academy being burned by a reformed Catholic. The roads were stained with blood and the memories of being shot in the leg wouldn't go away.

James scrolled through another news article, noting the timeline carefully. The government had launched an investigation almost immediately after the barrier lifted. First came the press statements, then the blame on their powers, and now the court hearings were scheduled.

"They'll blame everything on us," he said quietly. "First our abilities, than us. That's why they even set up the court in the first place—they don't want to admit fault themselves."

He scrolled up and saw a picture of Ashley, Divina, and Cassandra.

Cassandra's anger was always directed at the adults, accusing them of being as selfish they were. She had empathy, but she was also determined like Greyson. She must have known from the moment she was born that she would die as the star she had become.

"They will definitely show videos of Cassandra causing her earthquakes or when she brought in Foodland," James stated.

Visiting hours ended at ten. Most rooms emptied, but he didn't expect anyone to appear.

To his surprise, his own parents came, silent at first, keeping a careful distance. They hadn't spoken in years. Now they were here to ask if he still wanted to come back to Windsor.

Angel's parents arrived a few minutes later. They spoke mostly in Spanish, and James could only catch bits and pieces, but he saw hugs and the tears—and assumed they would let Angel go home too.

However, most parents seemed hesitant, especially those whose children had attended Uden Academy.

James was the one who told Esme's parents was dead.

He hadn't known what words to use. In the end, none of them mattered anyway.

Her mother kept nodding like she hadn't heard him. Her father asked the same question twice.

Jade's parents did not show, either because they had already heard the news about her, or they refused to come. James could have assumed either, but he knew court came next.

They weren't going to be the result they wanted.

Do you think the freaks will be charged?