Exactly twenty minutes later we watched the paramedics put Sally on a gurney and fire up the sirens before driving away to Provident Hospital. She had been in and out of it, mumbling mostly incoherent things that didn't help the medics understand her health condition and caused a ton of speculating on everyone else's part.

I felt horrible about the fact that they thought she suffered some sort of mental disorder, because not only in the span of forty-eight hours had Sally Mason allegedly harmed herself with a knife in school grounds but she'd thrown herself off a balcony as well.

And here I was, knowing none of that was true.

I had seen him, Roy, the famous guy with blue eyes who had attacked Sally on the parking lot and now threw her off a second floor balcony. He existed. But even with my knowledge on the matter, when the patrol cars rolled in five minutes after the ambulance departed, I didn't feel capable enough to spill it all out.

Asking a bunch of drunk, shocked, and most likely stoned teenagers all at once if they knew something on Sally's surprise appearance was a horribly difficult—if not impossible—task. Reason why they divided us into smaller groups. It was easier to figure out what really happened that way.

I ended up finding Jared near the dock, and Patricia Wilkins was right next to him. Her arms were wrapped around one of his. Like she would fall if she let go. I wanted to feel happy for my best friend, who always complained about dying alone, but at the same time, I was angered and resentful. He told me he would look for Will and ended up ditching me.

Jared was entitled to do whatever he wanted, but we had agreed to go through tonight together.

Homer was talking to him, accompanied by another officer who took statements from their group. Apparently, Sally was supposed to be taken to the psychiatric facility tonight—her mother's decision—but she'd somehow managed to sneak out of her house and end up here.

The cops wanted to make sure she had not drank or taken anything that might have set her off. They were also interested on anyone who might have seen her before, anyone who would know how and why she had gotten to the lake house in the first place.

"So, mind guiding me through tonight's events again, Olivia?" Detective Bishop asked.

He and his partner, Detective Johanna O'Hara, were in charge of our group. They had taken special interest in Hunter and me—for obvious reasons—and you had to be blind not to notice the way they stared at us.

Both were judging each and every one of our reactions, so I distracted myself by analyzing them instead.

Detective Ranald Bishop was tall, hoary haired, and looked like he spent more hours in the gym than the required ones. Johanna, on the other side, had a thick waist, chocolatey hair, and bright green eyes.

"Olivia," Detective Bishop said. He didn't sound happy.

"Sorry.... What was the question?" I couldn't focus, not when Hunter stood next to me and everyone else kept staring at us from five feet away.

"Have you been drinking tonight? Smoking some of that Devil's Lettuce one of your classmates had?" Detective O'Hara gave him a weird look, and he sighed. "Weed. Did you smoke weed? Are you high?"

"What—no!" His eyebrows shot up, as if I sounded snappier than expected. "I don't feel too good. That's all." That wasn't a complete lie. My mind was a mess.

"Must've been quite a traumatic experience. Watching Ms. Mason covered in blood two days ago and now experiencing her suicidal act first handedly." He stalked forward, breaking my limit for personal space. "Would you like some water? Apple juice maybe?"

"Is the attitude necessary?" Hunter asked, and for the first time in the past half hour, I actually felt relieved when I heard his voice.

"We're simply trying to understand what happened," Detective O'Hara explained, her voice remaining heavenly soothing. "And well, you two were the ones who saw it all, so it would really help if you told us what—"

"We were just talking," I barked. "How many times will you have me say the exact same thing? We were talking, Sally came up to the balcony, and...." I drifted off when Roy's image crept into my mind.

I wanted to tell them, finish the statement with the truth about how someone had been in that balcony, how he pushed her instead of her being the one who threw herself off of it. But I couldn't. My mouth couldn't physically produce the words.

Something told me this wasn't some sort of magic working over my body, though. It was my own self keeping me from telling them anything.

"And?" he pushed.

"And she fell over the railing," Hunter finished.

Detective Bishop snorted. "You can't fall over a railing like that. You have to be either pushed or climb over it. Now, was there anyone else with Ms. Mason on the balcony?"

My chest felt heavy with the weight of that question.

"No," Hunter replied, his words becoming as harsh as Bishop's. "But I wouldn't be able to tell you if she tripped or willingly threw herself off. It was dark and it all happened fast."

"See, I'd believe you, but you're gonna tell me it was dark enough that you didn't get to see if she was climbing the balcony's railings...and yet you still managed to run—how much is that?" He looked over Hunter's shoulder to where the bench was, eyes narrowed. "Forty, fifty feet to catch her just in time? Sorry, but that seems a bit weird for me."

"What do you want me to say, Detective Bishop?" Hunter challenged, and his next words made my stomach spin like a washing machine. "That I have superpowers and stopped her from falling so that I could catch her?" He waited a moment, risking a quick glance at me. I doubted either of the detectives noticed. "It was the adrenaline of the moment. That's all."

For a moment, they both stood in silence staring at us, like they were waiting for a final confession or statement. When they got nothing in return, though, Detective O'Hara stepped forward with a card in between her thumb and index finger. She gave it to me. "Here. If you remember anything, please let us know."

"I think they should come down to the station with us," Bishop concluded and thankfully, before I myself could kick him in the balls and make sure he didn't get to have any kids, a familiar voice came up from behind them.

Seeing him was like staring at an older and more experienced version of Jared.

"That won't be necessary, Renald. I think they told you everything they know, right?"

Hunter and I gave a single nod.

"With all due respect, Sheriff McCall—"

Sheriff? He got ascended? Jared hadn't mentioned anything....

"It's not up for discussion," Homer concluded. "File in the information they gave you, finish taking the statements, and meet me back at the station in half an hour."

"How is he allowed to be a cop?" I asked Homer once Detective Bishop and O'Hara were out of sight.

One of his shoulders gave a slight shrug, and he smiled. "He's an asshole, Liv, but the guy is one of the best cops we've got. He's really helping with all the disappearances."

"Anything on the Harris boy?" I asked, unsure of the intentions behind my sudden curiosity.

"Not yet, but we don't have much hope on the...." He stopped talking for a second, and I realized he was now eyeing Hunter. "Hunter Black, am I right?"

They shook hands for a moment. "Yes. It's nice to meet you, Sheriff McCall."

Homer nodded slowly, tsking under his breath. "My son has told me a couple things; I've heard some others."

Hunter didn't reply, his jaw giving a tight pull back for a moment. I was certain he didn't really like Jared's father. "What's with that Sheriff thing?" I asked, hoping to lighten things up.

"Jared didn't tell you?" Homer sounded genuinely surprised, and for some reason, that made the resentment grow. "Last week Joe resigned. The job was getting to him, so he trusted me with the charge. People weren't too happy, but hey, you can't be everyone's cup o' sugar."

"He probably forgot to mention it... Still, it's great news. Congratulations."

He gave my cheek a light squeeze. "Thanks, Liv. Did you call your parents already? And what about you? Called your uncle?"

"We haven't really had the time," Hunter said calmly. "How do you know about Logan?"

"Told you I heard some things. Very good cop when he worked back at Richmond's police department." I noticed Jared was approaching us, his face holding a worried expression. "Anyway, do you need a ride home, Olivia? I can tell one of the patrols to—"

"Are you okay?" Jared asked, suddenly blocking the lamp post's lights when he hugged me. "Liv...I'm so sorry."

Before I could debate on whether hugging him back was the right thing to do, I found my arms wrapping around him like they had done many times before. "It's okay. I'm okay."

Hunter cleared his throat when Jared drew some space between us. "I can give you a ride back home."

Neither Homer nor Jared allowed me to say a single word.

"Did you drink tonight?" Homer asked first.

"No, sir."

"Hunter, I think it's better if I take Liv back home," Jared said, and he made it sound like it was a statement.

The heavy weight of Hunter's eyes fell over me. Like he expected me to say something.

I didn't have any physical or emotional strength left in my body to even think of a proper way to approach this. I had a lot in my mind. After everything that went down tonight, I simply wanted to curl up in bed and try to get myself together.

"I'll just catch a ride with Jared, Hunter," I said, pulling off the calmest and most collected voice possible. Cold air bit at my skin when I gave him his jacket back, and he reluctantly took it.

"That's fine, but do you mind if we have a quick word?" There was no need for him to explain the intentions behind that request. His eyes spoke way more than his words.

The words flew out of my mouth before I got the time to even consider it, and deep down I knew it was for the best. "I really want to get home.... I'll see you Monday."

I noticed a flash of pain stirred the blue in his eyes, but he kept himself together and walked away with a nod.

It took a whole lot of willpower not to look back to see if Hunter had already disappeared into the crowd on our way to Jared's car, but it took way more than willpower not to tell my best friend everything when he asked me what happened back at the bench.

This wasn't a matter of confidentiality, but of safety, and at the moment, the only thing I wanted was to keep him safe. So for the sake of the little emotional stability left inside of me, I limited my answer to the words I'd heard over and over in shows and books: "I really don't know, Jared.... It all happened too fast."

It was somewhere around three A.M. when my phone buzzed four long times under my pillow before I picked up. The number wasn't on my contacts list. "Hello?"

"Hey," he said, his voice as low as mine. "I was worried about you."

My heart turned upside down in my chest. He had my number? Fucking Wilson. "And I was sleeping, Hunter."

"No, you weren't. Your lamp has been turned on for the past two hours," he said softly.

I sighed. "I don't want to talk. Is it really that hard to understand?"

"This isn't something you can just hope to forget. What you saw tonight—"

"What did I see, Hunter?" I sat up, my voice getting progressively louder. "Enlighten me. Because lately, I feel like I cannot trust my own eyes."

He took a moment before replying. "You saw through my glamour. Just like you've been seeing through it since we met...since you realized everyone else saw a different version of me."

Hearing him say it made it ten times worse. My head had become a carnival. Everything was too loud and hectic to understand. "What the hell is a glamour?"

He sighed. "This isn't something we can talk over the phone. I have to see you."

With anger edging on the verge of my patience, I stood up and walked all the way to my window. The curtains were halfway drawn, so I finished pushing them apart. On the other side of the street, Hunter's room appeared to be the only one lit in the entire house. It was right across from mine, on the second story. "How about now?"

"You know that's not what I meant." He'd been looking out his window, too—figures since he knew about my lamp. From here, I couldn't really make out his expression. The room's light only allowed me to see his built shape slouching against the window frame. Because it shone directly at his back, the front of his body was hidden by the shadow it cast.

"I don't feel like talking face to face with you."

"Did I really lose all your trust just like that?" He didn't sound hurt when he spoke. It was more like he knew my words weren't as truthful as I intended.

"Trust is a double-edged sword, Hunter."

"And I won't use it against you."

I took my time to think of what I wanted to do. Giving him the chance to explain meant I'd be accepting whatever it was that he had going on. It meant I was willingly throwing myself into the lion's mouth. Not giving him the chance to explain, though, didn't feel nearly as wise as I would've wanted.

Roy said it himself. Whoever was after Hunter knew he had been spending a lot of time around me, which only made me feel unsafe and watched. Even in my own house. I needed to make a decision, but it was mentally impossible for me to do such thing at the moment.

"Give me time until Monday, Hunter. Let me clear my mind a little bit, because right now it feels like it will explode."

"Of course," he said, his voice suddenly warming up. I figured he had enough empathy to cut me some slack. "My place after school?"

"Sounds fine. I doubt my parents want me spending a lot of time far from my house."

"They freaked out?"

"Just the normal amount. The disappearances and now this whole Sally deal have got them worried and on edge."

"They're parents, Liv. That's what they are supposed to do."

"I guess." I held on to my next words for a second, wondering if I wanted to hear his answer once they were out. I didn't, but fuck it. "Should I worry? Am I even safe, Hunter?"

His shadowy figure shifted, and I saw him nodding slightly. "As long as you stay close to me, I won't let anything happen to you."

Tears started to burn in the corners of my eyes. "Right. I should go."

"Olivia..."

My voice quavered. "Goodnight, Hunter."

I ended the call without thinking twice, closing the window and letting the curtains drape back together. In the process, multiple heavy, salty drops burned their way down my cheeks. I turned off the lamp and forced myself into bed again, where the haunting image of Roy throwing Sally off that balcony kept me company throughout the rest of the night.