The air whooshes out of me and I struggle to control my breathing. Where only a couple hours ago I was feeling stronger and ready to face this twisted configuration of my past colliding with my present, now all I can do is try not to fall down.

I try to get a grip of myself as I feel the all too familiar buzzing of the anxiety creeping over my skin. I feel it like a dark figure standing behind me, his fingers outstretched towards my neck, ready to squeeze my throat until no air may pass my lips.

It's a cloud of fog that follows every tortured step I take further.

I feel it's presence, it's whispering, it's call to stop fighting against it. It's no use after all. No matter how far I travel or fast I move, those hands are always right there, inches from my skin.

My feet leave tracks in the thin layer of snow on the sidewalk as I go.

I imagine that my shadow leaves a dark slithering trail behind me as well but I don't dare look back.

I just keep walking.

When the cold has cut through the layers of fabric that surround my body and everything begins to go numb I slip into the diner, thankful it's not too busy tonight.

It strikes me then that I don't even know what day it is. Or what time.

I slip into a booth in the back and slip my phone from my pockets but groan as I remember it's still dead.

I have no phone, no car, and no money.

I stare passed my reflection in the window beside my booth, not wanting to see my own eyes that I'm sure are filled with frantic worry.

Instead I try to see through the building condensation on the window and out at the twinkling lights that hover over the downtown street outside.

Jasmine is still out there somewhere and I'd been wrong yet again. Gillians's earlier words come back to me. How I think I'm smarter somehow than everyone else.

He's not wrong.

I'd been stupidly sure that the killer would target Kelsea next because Rebecca had been my best friend. I'd believed that I could lead the police to Jasmine's body waiting in that field to be found.

I don't know anything.

Despite my earlier feelings, I come to realize I'm still just as useless as I was ten years ago. I still cannot do anything to help these girls anymore than I'd been able to help them before.

And Aries...

I turn my gaze to my hands folded in my lap, still tingling as they warm up from being so cold, but they're tainted again.

Again, I have blood on my hands.

This time it's Aries's.

My mind is encapsulated with thoughts of him. Him kissing me. Him holding me. Him telling me he missed me. Him whispering sweet words into my ear lying lying in his bed. Him holding my hand and walking me out of school when I'd found out my best friend was dead. Him being the only person I told everything to.

Him in handcuffs.

The police had handled him so roughly, so careless of who he was. They treated him the same way they'd treated me.

As if I was guilty.

But what could they possibly think Aries was guilty of? They say they know what they're doing but they've been looking at me and now at Aries? They're waisting so much time. While they focus on us, foolishly trying to make my square peg fit into their round hole, they're letting whoever is doing this go free.

I look out onto the street and search the faces of people as they walk by.

Is he out there?

Right now is he standing in the shadows looking back at me?

I know in my bones that Aries has nothing to do with this. I believe that. I saw it in his eyes as he looked up at me scared and hurt and professed he didn't do anything.

I have a lot of bad blood between the two of us but one thing I could always stand firmly on was that Aries and I never lied to each other. Even when the truth hurt so much more than a simple brushing under the rug would have.

But....

I'd also once believed he would always be there for me. I believed all of the other things we whispered in the dark to me. I believe when he said he'd never leave.

But he had.

So maybe....

No.

I don't let my mind go there.

But....

The police and the FBI are working on these cases and Gillians had told me they were being careful because whoever was doing this would be watching. Did they already have suspicions towards Aries?

He was in handcuffs.

Dammit.

But so was I.

They'd wrongly tried to connect me to Linn Pierce's body. They'd brought me in with my hands shackled just the same. This doesn't have to mean anything.

"What can I get ya?"

I jump as a young girl with curly hair and a pad in her hands stops at my booth.

"I'm sorry." I say, placing a hand to my chest. "You startled me."

"Apologies," she says in a chipper voice. "It's so easy to spook people these days." She purses here lips around a tiny frown. "Can I place an order for you?" She asks, tacking the bright smile back into place while her free hand plays with a gold locket around her neck.

"I'm sorry." I tell her again. "I actually...I don't have any money and my...well." I don't know what else to say. I'd only even come in here to get out of the cold for a few minutes. Not to drop all of my problems on an unsuspecting teenage girl. "Do you have a phone I could use?" I ask instead.

She pauses, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. "Oh, uh, let me go get the manager to check, ok?" She tries to smile again but I can tell it's uncomfortable now.

She walks away quickly, stepping behind the counter to talk to a big burly man with a hairnet wrapped around his enormous beard.

They whisper back and forth for a second before the man waves a hand calling me over.

I step between stools at the counter and offer him a small smile. "I'm sorry." I say again, my word vomit just turning me into an apologetic dunce. "My phone is dead and I don't have a car. I just need to call someone for a ride home."

"Can't you Uber?" The man ask, narrowing his eyes.

"I would, but like I said my phone is dead." I say and he nods. I know he's about to offer to pull up the Uber app himself but I stop him. "I also don't have any money on me, so I'd I could just borrow a phone?"

He cuts his eyes over to the young waitress and she shrugs a little before going back out to check on other tables where people will be actually ordering food and leaving tips.

"Make it quick." The manager tells me, reaching behind him to grab the phone off of the hook on the wall.

I take it from him with a smile and then look down at all of the little silver buttons with numbers.

"I..." I look back up at him. "I actually don't know her number." I admit sheepishly. "Do you know Mrs. Statham?"

He takes the phone back from me with a huff and pulls out his cell from his Pickett, scrolling across the screen before he puts the phone up to his ear.

"Hey there, Nace." He says into the phone. "It's Chuck down at the diner. I'm sorry to bother you but I've got a woman here trying to-." He stops, listening. "Yep, that's the one." He says with a nod. "Alright, I'll see you soon then."

He slide the cell back into his pocket and looks at me.

"She's on her way?" I ask and he nods once. "I'll wait outside." I say gently, eyes drifting to the griddle behind him where a cook is flipping hamburger patties.

I kind of hope he'll offer me some food or at the least say I don't have to wait outside but he's already walking away, going to ring up a customer who is waiting at the cash register down the counter.

I wrap my father's coat tightly around myself and tuck my hands into the pockets as I slip outside. The snow isn't falling anymore, but the wind is brutally cold.

I take a seat at the curb and fold myself up, trying to keep in the little heat I'd managed to steal from inside.

She gets here surprisingly fast, parking her large white Land Rover this time, in front of me.

I don't waist any time rushing to get in.

She coos over me, telling me how worried she'd been and how happy she was that I'd called her. She chatters away the whole way back to my house as I sit and give the occasional grunt or nod to make her think I'm still listening.

When we stop at the house a small part of me is disappointed not to see Kelsea's truck parked outside.

"Thank you again for the ride." I tell Mrs. Statham as I unbuckle my seatbelt. "I appreciate you coming to get me."

"Anytime, dear." She says. "I mean that. Ok? You call anytime you need anything."

"Ok." I nod, her kindness just hurts my stomach. I'd used her and stolen from her and she still just wants to help me. I don't deserve her goodness.

I step out of the car and she calls back to me before I shut the door.

"And for heaven's sake, Missy, charge that phone of yours, ok?" She looks at me with a serious expression. "It's not safe to be alone out here with no way to contact anyone. You promise me you're going straight inside to charge that phone?"

"I promise." I nod before closing the door and listening to her car turn around and start to drive away.

I rush towards the porch, feeling desperate to just get inside and process this whole day.

But when I get to the front porch steps I freeze.

I turn back sharply to look for Mrs. Statham's car but all that is left is the dim glow of her taillights in the distance.

I take the first step slowly, careful to keep my steps light.

The front door is ajar and nerves shoot up my spine.

I take the next two steps and then slowly push the door the rest of the way open.

All of the lights are off but there is an orange glow from the fireplace in the living room lighting up the center of the dark hallway.

"Hello?" I call out, leaving the door open behind me as I step inside in case I need to run back out. "Is someone there?"

No one says anything.

There is just the sounds of an old house and the faint crackling of the fire.

I step slowly further into the house, jumping at nothing multiple times as I peak my head carefully into the living room.

I flip on the overhead light and look around the room. It's exactly as I left it. The blankets and pillow are still on the couch and my bag sits in my father's chair opened while on the coffee table still sits my untouched glass of orange juice and the bowl of dry cereal I'd sat beside it before we left.

A bang behind me makes me jump nearly out of my own skin and I run back into the hallway to see that it was the front door slamming shut.

Maybe it was the wind.

But people always try to blame it on the wind and it is almost never the wind.

I rush towards the door, yanking it open.

"Hello?" I shout into the darkness but there is no one there. The only tracks left in the snow are my own leading inside of the house.

I slam the door back and lock it, tugging to make sure it's closed and then I rush to the back door in the kitchen and do the same thing there.

I mechanically go through every room in the house, flipping on all of the lights as I go. I feel like one of my brother's video game characters clearing the room to look for enemies to shoot down.

But no one is here.

I am desperately and terribly alone.

I make my way back into the living room, casting a glance at the fire in the fireplace, before my eyes drift to my parent's room.

The only room I haven't checked yet.

I turn and rifle through my bag to dig out my charger but I can't find it. I know it was in this bag because that's where I had put it when I unplugged it from my car and brought it inside the night I had arrived.

This cannot be happening right now.

Panicked tears start to prick at the corners of my eyes and I grab a knife out of the kitchen before I step slowing towards the bedroom.

I push the door open and stick my hand inside trying to flip on the overhead lights but no matter how many times I turn the switch up and down nothing happens.

The room is so dark, the only light a small beam from the living room cutting a path across the carpet and the bedside table where I know there is a lamp.

I don't think, I just run.

I run across the room and pull the little golden chain hanging from the lamp and sigh as the light comes to life.

But then I gasp, dropping the knife and clutching my hands to my chest as I stumble backwards.

Up on the wall over my parent's headboard is one word written in red paint.

"MURDERER"

I look frantically around the room but it's empty.

I step closer to the wall and press my finger tips into the bottom of the M and my finger comes back with wet paint.

Someone just did this.

The dripping wet paint on the walls makes me think of another time I saw these walls marred in red.

In my mother's blood.

I choke while I try to breathe, the pressing weight of horror smashing me down until I feel like I must be a foot shorter now.

I turn sharply and look at the dresser.

It doesn't seem to have been moved but I don't trust the way it looks. I have to be sure. I have to make sure my secrets are still tucked away safely in that spot.

I rush over to the dresser, shoving it aside and drop to the floor and quickly pull back the carpet and lift the loose plank from the floor.

I shove my hand inside and yank out the coat and the shoes. Something makes a small sound like a coin dropping and I stick my arm down into the hole until my fingers meet with something cold and small.

I lift it out and stare at a gold hoop earring.

My fingers shake as I throw it back into the hole, not wanting to touch anything that used to hide in this spot.

I'm losing my mind.

I need to call the police and tell them that someone broke in, but I can't charge my fucking phone.

I shove the boots back into the hole and then slide the coat onto my lap and search the pockets for my ID and my debit card.

I set them aside on the floor beside me and I'm folding the coat up to place back inside when I hear a familiar rattle.

I flip the coat over and slide my hand into the other pocket and my fingers wrap around a bottle.

I pull it out and stare at the orange bottle with the white childproof lid and gape at it. It's entirely full of little white pills and the label has been peeled off.

I twist the cap with gentle slowness, tipping the bottle to the side to let two of the pills fall into the palm of my hand.

They sing to me.

The promise so much more than this day has given me.

I don't want to take them.

Everything in me screams do not take them!

But I already know I'm not strong enough.

I already knew the second I heard that rattle in the pocket.

It was the sound of release.

Of escape.

And I'm not strong enough to tell it no.

I place the pills on my tongue and my body relaxes as I swallow them down dry.

We're okay.

We're okay.

We're okay.