HAUNTED

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MANY MONTHS PASSED before Marjorie was able to accept and cope with the grief that overwhelmed her following her visit to Ethan in the psychiatric hospital. She went there for closure, but only ended up with a deeper hole in her chest when she left.

After Marjorie cried for hours in his dorm room while he attempted to comfort her, Chad made it a routine to stop by her apartment every day with food and movies for her to watch instead of sulking quietly. Most of the time she would thank him and then send him away.

Chad understood, though, because he knew that he probably would've been doing the same if it weren't for the fact that he has a never-ending supply of optimism and forgiveness.

They never truly talked about how Marjorie's visit to Ethan went, as the girl was hysterical and incapable of communicating at the time. But Chad never asked for the details. Instead, he just wanted to be a friend for her to go to whenever needed.

Chad knew that although he loved and cared for both Ethan and Marjorie as his friends, he could never push them to fix their relationship. Ethan destroyed any sanity Marjorie had left — there was no return for them.

One of the few people Marjorie allowed inside her grief, however, was Sam. The woman offered to be the person Marjorie talked to rather than a random therapist assigned by the hospital. Sam had a decent grasp of how the girl must have been feeling after the murders in New York.

The two mainly spoke about the betrayal they felt — and sometimes still feel — whenever they recall the moments Ethan and Richie revealed themselves to be the killers.

Sam and Marjorie grew closer moving forward.

For the first few weeks after Anika's funeral, which took place in early to mid-November, Mindy and Marjorie would visit her grave every week and speak to her. Then Mindy stopped visiting with Marjorie, and the blonde was left to go see the girl by herself.

It wasn't that Mindy didn't miss Anika: she loved her girlfriend. It was the fact that Mindy couldn't handle sitting in a graveyard staring at the headstone that read Anika's date of birth and death. It was all a constant reminder for her.

Therefore, Marjorie kept visiting for the both of them, informing Anika of how each person in their friend group were doing since the killings. She wished Anika was next to her instead of below her. Wished that Anika had been the one to cross the ladder first.

Marjorie knew there was no changing what had already happened, though. She could only hope to mourn the death of her best friend and remember Anika as the sweet, beautiful girl she was rather than the mutilated body that fell into the alleyway.

As for Tara, both she and Marjorie were occupied with their own lives and ways of dealing with what happened. The Carpenter girl was attending weekly therapy sessions and finally recognizing the trauma she experienced, while Marjorie was once again trying to heal from the damage of the one she loved being the person to hurt her the most.

So, when the pair were able to find space in their schedules for one another, they never held any indignation towards the other for the lack of quality time together. They'd watch the random films Chad brought or just lie there together under a throw blanket and stare at the ceiling while having meaningless conversations.

During these hangouts, Tara avoided any mention of Ethan or Amber — and Marjorie was more than grateful.

She had been able to move on from Amber's death, but Ethan's betrayal seemed to affect her differently. It caused more damage than any of the physical injuries either of them had made.

Marjorie kept thinking over every detail and moment they shared. The moment their lips touched for the first time. Every time he pressed a kiss against her skin. When she knew that they both wanted to be more than what they were. She was aware of how attached she became to Ethan, but she never wanted to admit it to herself or anyone around them.

With time, Marjorie was able to realize and understand why she continued to call Ethan her boyfriend even after their — incredibly short-termed — relationship had ended.

She realized early on that the Ethan she knew was dead to her, but because he was still physically there, Marjorie was unable to fully comprehend what their relationship was now. If they were still "together" or if they were merely strangers again.

Marjorie never got the closure she wanted, but eventually came to terms with that fact. She knew that she couldn't go on as she did before.

So, in the early morning of May, Marjorie currently sits on her bed with If He Had Been With Me on her lap. She can hear the others in the kitchen, struggling to move around one another as they attempt to cook a decent breakfast. A slight smile forms on Marjorie's lips.

She carefully places the bookmark between the pages and closes the book, placing it on her nightstand before making her way out of her room. The smell of pancakes and waffles gives her a sense of comfort.

"Hey, guys," Marjorie greets while reaching for the handle to the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water.

"Morning, M." Sam replies, stirring the batter in a bowl on the counter.

Mindy waves but doesn't look up from the dining table, where she sets the utensils and plates in front of the seats. Chad nods at her while Tara steps closer to pull Marjorie into a side-hug.

Tara asks, "How'd you sleep?"

Marjorie exhales, draping an arm over the Carpenter girl's shoulders. "Fine. I'm just glad my pre-med programs are over."

The Carpenter girl smiles in understanding, giving her friend a squeeze before walking over to her sister to help with the waffles. Sam gives Tara a quick kiss on the side of her head before passing her an oven mitt to open the sizzling waffle machine.

Marjorie watches them, absentmindedly fidgeting with the cap to the plastic bottle in her hands. She admires the relationship between Sam and Tara — it's the sweetest bond she's ever seen.

As Marjorie's unscrewing the cap to drink her water, Chad taps her on the shoulder from behind. She gulps the water and turns to face him, knitting her brows together. "Hm?"

"Can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Uh," she glances over her shoulder at the others, who appear to be occupied with their own tasks. "Yeah, sure."

Marjorie follows Chad around the corner and towards Quinn's old bedroom, which now serves as a secondary lounge. When he pauses, she begins to grip her water tightly. Marjorie hopes that he isn't going to ask about the visit. That's all she hopes for whenever he wants to ask her something.

"So, I finished cleaning out Ethan's dorm a while ago," Chad says, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie. "And, uh, I found this in one of the drawers to his nightstand."

The small box she found back in December sits in the middle of Chad's palm, and Marjorie's lips part slightly and inhale. She left it there on purpose — but that doesn't mean she forgot about it.

"I'm pretty sure it was meant for you, because, well... you know." He extends the box towards her. "I don't know what you want to do with it, but it's up to you. I just wanted you to have it."

Marjorie takes it from his grasp, tenderly tracing her fingertips over the box. "Thank you," she says. Chad looks at her while giving a half-lipped smile, briefly patting her forearm before moving past her to the main room where everyone else has gathered.

Then she unlatches the top and stares at the light rose colored charm on the silver chain. Her fingers bring it out, shoving the box into her pocket and examining the bracelet again. The last piece of jewelry she'd received from somebody was thrown into the garbage following their death.

However, this time Marjorie slips the bracelet onto her left wrist. Her stomach no longer clenches in sadness at the thought of Ethan. Instead, she feels a sense of closure. He made her learn to let go of the past. She knows that she will always have a part of him with her.

And Ethan Landry will always have a piece of her heart.