The Secret Lives Of Liars And Poets

Prologue: She's Fallen

I had this dream one time when I was in high school, and in this dream, there was always a girl. She would throw her hair around and show off like she was some goddess. Well, a goddess with a C average and a problem with embarrassing herself.

My dream girl always stared at me in the band room when she wasn't playing her sax, and one day, I walked up to her and told her how I felt. I told her the truth and when I was done talking, she looked at me like she'd always done and told me that things were hard for her and that she wasn't comfortable bringing a boy to her house. It wasn't me, it was her.

I was scared back then to tell the truth and I think that's why now I've become such a liar. It's a natural reaction to things I'm not so comfortable with. I can just say anything and feel okay about it. But with her, she knew I became a liar and she stayed away for a while.

We drifted through relationships, but we never came close until I caught her alone a few months after I asked her out and I swore I would never lie to her again. We kissed for the first time in the band room after practice. I was a sophomore and she was a freshman. I was a long haired skater boy and she was beautiful. If opposites attract, we were the poster couple.

High school was designed to open doors for the students willing to work hard and appreciate the gift that education truly is, but for her and I, the only doors opening for us were distance and disappointment. We argued over small things and when we would make up, life was great again. Then came the night of the Harvest Dance and we fought all the way there before deciding to ditch it completely in favor of a dark, secluded area of the campus that provided enough moonlight to make our lovemaking magical. It was our first time, and we thought that since it was together, we would be forever bound as one, like a teenage vow given with no witness as a solid pact to remain eternal.

The first lie came the next day. She missed school because she was sick. Believable enough, except he was there when I came over to see her. I saw her through the window. She sure was acting sick, but nothing compared to the empty sadness filling my gut. He was me, though maybe a year older, and obviously much more fun. I sat on the porch until her mom came home from work. I told her goodbye and walked to my bike.

She tried to kiss me at school, but I couldn't bring myself to return the favor, knowing her once satiny lips were now tainted by those of someone I didn't recognize. Her eyes were red and glassy and her speech was slurred. Although I didn't know the truth at the time, I knew something was wrong. She was different and he was changing her. High school isn't forever, but some scars never fade. I understood her more and more as I watched and listened over Christmas break, then the snow melted and the grass came back, and in April I told her I've known about the other guy. She told me she was pregnant. I knew it wasn't mine. I refused to be intimate with her. In a way, I wanted her gone. I ended our relationship that day. I'm sixteen years old. I have my whole life ahead of me, and it wouldn't be fair to hold on to someone who never wanted to be there. Her life was turning down a path that I couldn't follow. Two years later and I'm on the verge of graduating high school. She had dropped out to get married to him and raise their baby last year. She had a paying gig with the school to take pictures of the prom, but when she saw me with my date, she avoided my side of the gym. I looked at her different that night, like we had so much history, yet barely knew anything about each other. We were from the same side of the tracks, though everyone else seemed to be from the other side, the right side. We had a destiny.

So, for the purpose of the story, her name is Mystery. And she's a definite mystery to me. She was my high school sweetheart, and now as the sweetness fades into the true beginning of the story, the lullaby is the only thing hanging in the air. There are seven parts to this story, and as you follow along, there are people you will hate, or maybe learn to love, and there are people who won't return, or at least for a while. When you finally reach the end, you'll have so many questions, but in time, you'll understand. My friends are poets with a silver tongue, able to weave a web so deep, they can redefine themselves, become whoever they want. They can bring you to your knees with desire and they can make you question who you are at your core. We all live secret lives, and if it wasn't for Mystery, this story would be much, much different.

Part 1: Right Foot Forward

My name is Michael, but please try to wear it out. Try to help my alcoholic mother forget it, but remind my dad of who I am before it gets wasted away. He didn't even use the better goodbye on me. He opted to just not come home. My mom got the worse end. He slashed her tires and spray painted obscene words on her windows. She was never alone, but never with my dad. My brother and I emancipated at seventeen just to escape her unprovoked violent screaming and use of vulgar and often demeaning language. She thought she was signing a permission slip for a field trip, but instead was giving her twin boys away. She never read anything anyway. She didn't care about our future.

I got into college while my brother got into drug addiction, but every chance I got, I came home to check on him. I couldn't get him to stop, but I could cook for him and make sure the house was clean, including his clothes and himself. It was hard to watch him suffer, but I loved him and nothing could change that.

He was born Nicholas Grey, four minutes older than me, and much more stubborn. I spent my youth with a microscope and a map of the stars. He spent his with video games and music. It's kind of funny to think now about the way things turned out, almost in an opposite way. As I sit here writing this, I can remember the first time our interests crossed paths. In 9th grade he invited me to go see a live band with him, and I decided to take the opportunity to relate to my brother. Plus I had to write a column for the school paper and this might be a good topic. The band referred to themselves as Liar Under Fire and they were loud and heavy. I remember being unable to describe my feelings about the songs, with titles like, “Drink Your Tea, You'll Be Bleeding It Later”, and “Last Time I Felt This Good, I Was Dead”. Something changed in me that night, however, and I will never forget the new connection I found with Nicky. It sucks that he's gone. That's a story for a little later.

Graduating high school was something of a miracle for the two of us. After moving away from our mom, we decided to continue with our education. Knowing that a diploma was really the only thing separating us from beginning to follow our dreams, we worked hard and finished near the top of our class. Nicky got honors in Chemistry and I received them in writing. I had written an amazing review on a band I saw for my journalism class and it won an award from the school for how enticingly fun and informative it was. At that point, I decided I wanted to be a writer, but not just any. I wanted to write for a music magazine and specialize in reviews. I knew that with my gift of writing, I could really do something with it. Turns out, Nicky knew how to use his gift of chemistry in a way I never even knew.

Nicky began to deal crank out of our house. It was all behind my back, and he was very good at hiding it. While I was aware of the use, I had no idea how bad it could get, or the trouble he would find. Sometimes he would come home early in the morning and never go to bed. I knew something was up, but we were eighteen and I wasn't his mother. Actually, I wasn't much of anything to him anymore. Nothing but a cook and a maid, taking care of all of the housework so he could come and go as he pleased. He never brought friends over, and I seriously doubted he had any. So maybe that was it. All I was to him was a voice in the dark when he needed it. The underworld had taken him from me, and they only way for him to get out was to get clean.

I took a trip to visit some friends from high school for a week and it was hard for me to be away from Nicky. I worried about him, and there were times that I wished I hadn't come. There were a few times I woke up from nightmares that consisted of gunshots and screams, though I could never place the voice. Jon and Keith, the guys I was visiting, would tell me they could hear me talking to myself in the middle of the night and they could tell something was up. But I couldn't place it. I couldn't make out the distant scream and I couldn't put a face to the voice. Worried and exhausted, I drove home on Monday morning. As I closed in on Parkton, the town I called home, I received a call on my cell from an unknown number. The dreams may not have foretold the entire truth, but now I knew who's voice I heard. It wasn't Nicky's. It was his girlfriend’s. She found him on the floor of his bedroom clinging on to his life after suffering a heroin overdose.

The nurse at the hospital asked me how long my brother had been on drugs. I couldn't give her a straight answer, though it wasn't because I was protecting Nicky. I had no idea. I knew about the crank dealing, but nothing about heroin. It made me feel like I lost him somewhere along the way, drifting from our promising high school building blocks, and entering a phase of adulthood built on only knowing each other's names. True, he wasn't involved much in my life anymore, but how did I not see this coming?

Two weeks later, I packed my room and headed off to college. I was eager for a new start to my life, though I feared for Nicky’s. My roommate was a pot smoker, but he was nice enough. His name was Miguel and he had plans of becoming a software engineer. His only hope for graduating was a lot of cheating instead of learning. He had already written a virus used for hacking into a teacher's grade book in high school, and planned to do the same in college if needed. My life had become surrounded by criminals, and I hoped to never follow the same path. It should go without saying that I could learn a lot from Miguel, but it is worth noting that he's not the key player in my nearest endeavors. That honor goes to the first two people I met in the UC later on at night in my second week at school.

I had been writing an English paper that was due on Monday, but this being a Friday night, the UC was packed with hopeful graduates, grouping up with friends and developing relationships with peers of common interest. Freshmen were born into a melting pot that seemed to boil with immediate trust and respect, so it was only natural for the newest faces on campus to follow suit with their upperclassmen, yearning only to fit in and be a part of something. Baby sharks hunting for their first taste of blood, babies exploring a vast new world. I had become an introvert on this strange planet, far from my comfort zone, antisocial. A wallflower of sorts, waiting for somebody to ask me to dance, though well equipped with the knowledge that if ever there should be such an invitation, I would turn it down. In a sea razor teeth and flesh, I was the vegetarian. I was the nobody. I sat in the corner of the open water and strummed sad songs without looking up from my guitar. "Who is that?” "What? "The song. Who wrote that?” "Oh, I did. It's called 'The Creature'. I wrote it for my senior English class. It's about it Frankenstein’s monster.” His name was Robby and he had a friend named Terrance who came over to join us. They were starting a radio show on the campus station, and enjoyed all kinds of music, especially those of aspiring artists. I told them that I had a recorded demo from earlier that year, and then Robby asked if they could play one of my songs. I told them that they weren't that good and that I wasn't fully interested in exploited radio play. I wasn't some charity case and I didn't want any more exposure than continuing to softly pluck strings in a room full of people who don't know me. The song turned out to be a big hit. I gave in, though I was distracted by a short, redheaded girl. We locked eyes and I finally said yes in exchange for her name. Katie. A plaid shirt and skinny jeans, subtle yet beautiful, and makeup that accented her green eyed gaze. She stared and I melted. Monday came and I barely finished my paper in time for class. I spent most of the morning before class searching MySpace for her last name, diligently looking through hundreds of profiles for her picture, though to no avail. It was only within the hour before I had to face my strictest professor that I remembered my homework.

Katie seemed so intoxicating, that I feared I was developing a toxic obsession. We had yet to speak any words, but her face was burned into my thoughts and I hoped when the time came I could just say how I felt.

'Dear Katie, let me weave a web full of spiders and innocence, because it's the only thing I know.’ The first letter I started in an attempt to say something, anything, to try and get a reply. I looked for her for weeks in the UC, and I skated around campus hoping to casually bump into her. Then came the first weekend in October. It was raining and the UC was surprisingly quiet, so I had my laptop and my guitar trying to record “The Creature”. An IM came over my AOL account from the tag KT_Stargirl.

And before I knew it, she was there, closing my laptop and sitting next to me. The couch became warm and and the background faded into nothing. She smiled as if to entice me into a kiss and I leaned in to receive it, but she whispered in my ear and asked me to take a walk with her. What else could I say? The rain had left a chill in the air and glossed over the sidewalk. She linked her arm in mine and her five foot nothing frame eased into my side seamlessly, like the final piece of a puzzle completing the beautiful landscape around us. Her beanie hid her eyes, but not her wide grin as we walked wordlessly along the edge of campus. Soon after, the silence was broken by an oddly placed object soaked and melting into the cement. Once single slice of bread, separating and disappearing, but bread. And for no real reason, we laughed, hard, and her hand slid into mine. At first, neither of us knew it happened, but something about that bread seemed to bring us closer, having witnessed something that we had never seen before together, for the first time. And for the first time, I felt like I wasn't alone. I felt wanted.

Hand in hand we walked and talked and as the clock struck 2 am, we yawned and found ourselves on a bench to take a rest. She looked at me and brushed a few black hairs out of my face and we kissed. At this point, I didn't care how the story would end, I just wanted to live long enough to see where it could go. If I never saw Katie again, if she somehow disappeared and we lost our connection, maybe that would be okay. Maybe all of this was a dream and when I wake up, I'll be back with Nicky in high school and I can forget all of this and follow a new path. But I opened my eyes and I could feel her lips leaving mine and the look on her face told me she felt exactly the same as I did, and she woke up from her dream to discover that this was real all along. This was where we were, this was who we are, this is…what is this? "Would you like to come with me to the homecoming game at my high school?” I couldn't believe I said it out loud. "Are you asking me on a date?” "I'm asking for a lot more to be honest, but for starters, yes. A date.”

"What does a girl wear to a homecoming game at a high school?”

"Blue and white. School colors. Aside from that, surprise me. I'll meet you right here, on this bench, four ó clock on Friday.”

Katie tasted like vanilla pudding, and all I could think about for a week was that kiss. We must've not had any classes that were in or near the same buildings because I never saw her. She was elusive and part of me wondered if I did dream the whole thing. Sometimes I would see the bench and the the spot where the bread had now been washed away. I spent my free time writing the Dear Katie letter, but I finished it as a song. Friday came and I barely made it through my classes, but sure enough, she was there at four sharp.

We were about halfway to the high school when she unplugged her MP3 player from my stereo and asked to hear my demo CD. I told her I was embarrassed and that it would feel weird to have it play out loud.

"Don't be embarrassed of your art. If you love what you do, you should share it. Don't hide behind the notion that no one will think you're good enough. There will always be one person who does, and today that person is me."

The ten and a half minutes it took to completely get through all four tracks were hard for me, mainly because I couldn't read Katie. She wasn't saying anything and she had her eyes closed. When the last track finally ended, we sat in silence for a minute, and I anticipated her opinion. But all she said was, "Again."

Katie told me that it was hard for her to be floored like that by any mainstream bands and that's why she liked to listen to the local scene. She had many bands download and burned to discs that were made as playlists for different moods. She liked stuff that wasn't on the radio that was raw and full of emotion. That's why she wanted me to play it again, and we sat in the parking lot of my old high school, where it all started, to finish it before going in. She was enchanted, but not in the super impressed blow up my ego kind of way. A true enchantment. She took my hand and we walked to the gate, and she looked confused as I paid for both of our tickets. I could tell by her body language that she hadn't been in the best relationships in the past and it made me feel good to make her happy. Mystery made me feel like this once, but Katie brings so much more to the table.

"Where did you learn to me such a gentleman?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm a psyche major, and not to be judgmental, but you don't fit the profile. Long hair, musician, black clothes, and yet, all of this. You're a true romantic trapped in the body of a gutter punk."

"Sometimes I just know what to do or say because my brain is wired to know what's right. I can't explain it, but I guess that's it."

"Born on the wrong side of the tracks and found your way across."

"Or maybe I was always on the right side, but the metaphorical cover of my book was judged too quick."

"You are an enigma, Mr. Grey."

As we walked behind the home side of the bleachers, I noticed many faces I recognized, but no wave or acknowledgement of my being there. I wasn't popular in high school, but I did have my group of friends, and I was hoping to introduce Katie to them. I spotted Jon and Keith over by the concession area and called to them. They were brothers at heart, though not by blood. Jon made videos for YouTube and Keith usually starred in them. Some of them went viral and Jon had high hopes of directing in Hollywood. After the introduction and the purchase of popcorn and a couple of bottles of water, I led Katie over to the bandstand, the designated area where the high school band would play during the game. I said "Hi" to the director, who directed me last year, and asked a little about the music they were playing. She asked about college and hoped I would stay to see their halftime show. At football games, the band was notoriously better, and it showed considering there were five minutes left in the second quarter and the team was down 0-20. There was another loss I could see aside from the inevitable downfall of yet another homecoming game. Nicky was nowhere to be found. I didn't expect him to show his face, but it would've been nice. His secret was still safe with me, but it wasn't the secret I was worried about, it was him.

We left before the game was over to avoid the traffic. For the big school that it was, there wasn't much room for parking.

The ride was silent minus the wind blowing through the open windows. It wasn't because of tension, but because of my thoughts being focused on Nicky. Katie knew something was on my mind. I could tell by the way she was looking at me while she drove.

"The last time I saw him, he was lying in a hospital bed recovering from an overdose", I finally said when we were getting close to the college.

"And this is the brother you don't talk about?"

"Yeah, he's a...well, a drug dealer. I'm just worried about him. I've been distracted and I haven't thought about him, but seeing my old school and my old friends brought him back up."

"Can't you call him?"

"I wouldn't know who to call to get ahold of him. I wouldn't know where to look."

"Sometimes you make me think you're a mannequin, Michael. Beautiful on the outside, but hollow and empty on the inside. You have some dark things that need to be addressed."

"Just in time for Halloween. Hollow and empty are what keep people like you from breaking me down. Plastic may melt when burned, but I won't feel it."

I made the first cut that night in my room after Miguel passed out. It was about two inches, sliced with precision, and created with a single blade razor torn apart to expose only the blade. I did it on my shoulder to make sure it would be completely hidden from wandering eyes. Throughout the next two weeks, I stayed in solitude, leaving my room only to go to classes. No Katie, no anybody, not until I found out the truth about Nicky. I started wearing eyeliner and bought tapers to stretch my ears. The notches on my proverbial belt began to add up on my shoulder, so to compensate, especially with fall setting in, I used my forearm right at the crease of my elbow, choosing a constant long sleeve/hoodie wardrobe to hide my pain. I kept wondering what was wrong with me to drive me to this place in my head.

And this is the part where it all went wrong.

Katie messaged me and said she hadn't heard from me, and if I needed to escape, there was a Halloween party. She told me to dress spooky and gave me the time and address. I showed up dressed as Sweeney Todd and immediately began drinking before I even saw her. She was dressed as a cat, complete with the ears and tail and she was stunning. There were a lot of people dressed in gore, but she was a standout, and she was all mine. We talked a lot sitting on the couch as people came and left. We were an island in the ocean, unaware of what was going on, and I told her all about Nicky and she held me. Part of me felt better, but as I was letting everything out, I felt other pieces die. Katie was a good listener, and as a psyche major, she could tell something really didn't feel right. In fact, if she wasn't drinking, she could've foretold all of the coming events, and maybe prevented them. But in that moment, all that mattered was that we had each other. We slept together the first time that night, and though I was drunk, I was still reluctant to take off my shirt, but I did and she saw everything. In that moment, she didn't care, but in the morning, she would.

She was gone when I woke up, faded into the chill of the first day of November. I looked at my cell phone, which I didn't use much, and to my surprise, there were two missed called from the same number, one that I didn't recognize. I decided to ignore it and go to class, but as I was walking toward the building, my phone rang again, the same number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Michael Grey?"

"Yes. What's this about?"

"My name is Angela and I'm the guidance counselor on campus. I would like to speak with you as soon as possible."

"I have class right now."

"I'll write you a note. This won't take long."

I had no idea what to expect. I had no idea what she knew. All I knew is that I could run, but running is never good. Maybe she could help me with whatever it is that's been plaguing my head to the point where I'm cutting over Nicky. Wait, Nicky. That has to be what this is about. Within five minutes, I was at the office. I knocked and Angela opened the door. I didn't expect there to be another person in the room.

"Katie tells me you're in quite the predicament."

"I haven't heard from my brother and he's into some pretty bad stuff."

"And that's why you've been cutting?"

"That eased the pain. I don't do it anymore."

"Could I see the cuts?"

"Why?"

"Because I'd like to help if you let me. I've done a little research and discovered Nicky has been in a rehab program for the last month. It's a three month program and he should be out by Christmas. Now how about those cuts?"

Katie was asked to leave, which was better off considering she couldn't handle it. The sound of her crying immediately began to haunt me. I guess I'd never looked at them before, and they were gruesome. The blood was dried enough to keep them closed now, but they were deep. It was at this time that I really wondered why it didn't hurt. Like, at all.

"I need campus security in here please."

I faded again. I was aware of my surroundings, but unable to do anything. I could see, but not focus. Hear, but not understand. I smiled uncontrollably in a way that I'd seen in serial killer documentaries as they're loading the person into the back of the car. I suddenly became aware that I was doing the same thing. I was going in the back of a car with the whole school watching me. I couldn't see Katie's face, but I knew she was there. The last thing I heard was the name of a hospital where I was being taken. When I finally snapped out of the dreamlike state I was in, I was wearing a gown and I was in the hospital, just not on the floor but thought I'd be on.

Psychiatric wings are interesting, but valuable if you can learn what the doctors are trying to teach you. I was smart, but some of the people there were difficult to deal with. Altogether, it was three weeks, no visitors, but it really helped. I discovered that I had a mental illness called bi polar disorder and I was put on a medication to help. A lot of the last week and a half was spent being monitored by the doctors to see any changes. When Katie was able to pick me up, my head felt very clear and I was able to breathe a little bit better, but I wasn't out of the woods yet.

Katie picked me up and signed me out after it was all over.

"You just need to keep your right foot forward and your head up high. Things could've gotten pretty bad for you, and at least now you know and can learn about it."

Her words were poisonous truth.

"Why would you go to Angela? Why is this such a big deal to you?"

"Because I care about you, Michael. I love you."

"And I love you, at least I'm sure I do. I don't know what it really feels like."

She paused, as if deep in thought, then spoke.

"Hey, you know what? Let's do something fun and extreme."

Katie drove me to a tattoo shop and at first I thought just pulling up was extreme enough. My ears were still throbbing from putting my tapers back in and I wasn't so sure a tattoo was a good idea. At least my good judgement was returning. I found out that I was wrong about getting a tattoo, because Katie's intentions were to pay for me to get something pierced. She wanted to pierce her tongue and thought I could hold her hand. Something couples would do. I guess I never thought of us as a couple. So I went for the leap, watched how it was done and held her hand, and in turn, I got my lip pierced. It didn't even really hurt. The artist said it would swell and gave me care directions.

I told Katie that somehow it did make me feel better, that I hadn't laughed like that in a long time and in turn, I bought her dinner. I had a little bit of cash still on me from school.

We went to a drive in fast food restaurant and I couldn't stop smiling. I kissed her and her onion ring breath and understood what love was. There was no place I'd rather be unless she was there with me. She was different, so caring and free. For the first time in my life, I didn't want to run away.

The next day would be my first day back for classes, but as I entered the first room, my professor called me into the hallway and told me the dean was requesting my presence. I was excused from class and walked to the administrative building where the dean's office was located. I knocked and he called for me to come in.

"Michael Grey. It appears that you've been having some trouble here."

"I'm on meds now, and I'll be fine."

"It's not just your mental state. Your grades are slipping and I believe you should take the rest of this semester off to get your affairs in order. You can reapply in the fall. Get some rest and get yourself better. You're brilliant, and this is a minor slip."

"If this is minor, why can't I stay?"

"You can stay on campus until winter break. After that, I'd like you to leave."

"You're kicking me out of school because I've had a hard time?"

"Those are your words, not mine."

"I'd like this in writing please, to show everyone what a piece of shit you are."

"Don't make this harder than it has to be, please. If you give me an address, I can mail the documents to you."

So that was it. All the time and effort put into getting my life on track, all for nothing. Where was I supposed to go? Hopefully Nicky would get back on track also, and we could live in our house, but what if it doesn't work out? My mom lives in Montana now, maybe a change of state would help. Just get away from all of this, start running again. But what about Katie?

Turns out, since I had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving, her family invited me over. They were dying to meet the boy Katie was so smitten over. I've never been bad at first impressions, but this one was important. She was bringing home a basket case, and I wanted her family to see beyond that.

Surprisingly, her parents adored me, and they passed no judgement. Instead, they opened their home as well as their arms to me, and I was greeted with smiles and laughter. Dinner went very well. Conversation directed toward me bore no mention of the hospital, but wavered between my hobbies and plans for the future, with the occasional mention of intention with their daughter. I participated also in talk that wasn't directed at me, offering tasteful insight and keeping my sharing to a minimum. There was no reason to shorten my dialogue, but I didn't want to seem egotistical.

Toward the end of dessert, I excused myself to the bathroom and walked down a hallway lined with family photos. The younger versions of Katie were especially interesting, and I got to thinking about how everyone I know has a family, and they probably have these pictures as part of their story. We grow up together and really only know one part of the story, the part that you see all the time, but there's always more to learn. I looked at the professional photo of Katie and her parents. Beautiful, smiling, unaware that the world could fall apart, and yet there was a serious sadness, a complacent understanding that they will always have each other. My mother never had these pictures, and I think it was because she couldn't grasp what they represent. These pictures are photographs of sanity. These are pictures of a family that will always be together, through everything, and still know there's always someplace to call home. These are the faces of a love I will never know, or maybe even understand.

I told her then I was leaving, and I didn't know if I'd be coming back. I called my mom that morning and told her things weren't working, that I wanted to come and live with her until I got my feet on the ground. Katie took the news pretty well; she understood that I needed somewhat of a new beginning in my life. She told me she that she would always love me and that I had changed her life forever. I told her that I had until winter break and then I'd be boarding a plane.

"Then let's make the most of it."

Nicky was set to get out of rehab a couple days before I'd be coming back. I decided to ask him if he wanted to come with me, and I hoped he would.

Katie sat up with me the last few days and we talked a long time, about plans and dreams. We had a small Christmas gift giving early, since I would be gone. I felt both scary and relieving knowing that I was finally leaving this state. I didn't feel like I was running from any problems at this point, just doing something to better myself. Finally doing something to better myself, and not just making everyone around me feel good while I sat in shambles. Katie made me a stuffed penguin. She knew I loved penguins, and this one was handmade out of felt and stitched together without the use of a machine. It was funny to me that we never talked about what to get each other, yet knew exactly what we would want to give because of sentimental reasons. The gifts we exchanged were meaningful and well thought out, but not planned ahead. I made her a CD of songs I wrote about her and us.

"I call it Right Foot Forward and it's all about us. I kind of guessed about the ending, because I don't know the truth about all of this and how it's all going to go, but it's a happy one."

"Michael, you really are an enigma. This means more than you can possibly know"

"Well this penguin was the perfect gift. I teared up a little bit."

"You know, if your family doesn't work out, you always have one here. I will always hold you close in my heart."

"My true Ohana, my real family."

"Forever and always."

We kissed and stripped our clothing and fell into each other for the last time. Katie helped me pack my car the next morning and I left. I looked in the rearview mirror and then could almost see the piece of my heart that I left for her dancing with the piece of hers that she left me. One of the last things I asked her was about her IM tag, I was curious about stargirl. She told me it came from her favorite book of the same name by Jerry Spinelli. It was a book that truly spoke to her, with characters she could relate to. As I got into the car, she gave me her copy of the book, which she carried around everywhere.

"Think of me when you read it. Maybe you could understand the message and we can talk about it sometime."

The interstate soon disappeared to where my house stood, home again with my brother. His car was in the driveway and I pulled in next to him. The house was surprisingly dark, and a chill of fear crossed over me. I told myself that everything was okay, that nothing was wrong. Maybe Nicky wasn't even home. Still I gingerly eased my way toward his room, desperate to catch my breath. I forgot how to breathe and my thoughts were racing. I couldn't even call out his name. His door was open, but the lights were out and the curtains were tightly closed, allowing no light to escape, but I saw him sitting on his floor, a silhouette shaped only by the daylight pouring through the front doorway, which I had left open. I flipped the light on and froze. He was using a knife already caked in blood to carve deep gashes in every bit of visible skin.

"The light. I can't see the bugs in the light."

Nicky never went to rehab. He began using the crank he was selling and now it had taken him over. He started to make his way under the bed by crawling slowly.

"I need the dark to see them."

"I can get you help. Please, just stop, let me make a call."

All I could see were his feet and then all I heard was the gunshot. My mind couldn't grasp what had happened. It was then that my own shadow lifted off of the floor and touched my shoulder.

"All we have now is each other", it said. "Run as far away as you can."

The roads were icy as I drove passed the cops I just called. My plane leaves tomorrow, and with it, I leave the past. When I board that plane, I will rewrite my own history and start fresh. And tomorrow, if I wake up to discover this was all a nightmare, I will never take my life for granted again. And if this is reality? Help me.

Part 2: Eventually, Forever

I stared at the copy of the note sitting on top of the box Nicky left to me. If there was a note, that means he planned it, right? Isn't that how it works? People don't just go around writing suicide notes to take their dogs for a walk, or to drop their kids off at school, right? When someone writes a note like this, it means it was planned. If that's the case, how did he know I'd be coming back? Or worse, how long had he been waiting?

It had been two months since I watched it happen. I can't even say it, the words touch my lips and fall apart like a cigarette ash. Yeah, I smoke now, I needed something to cure the pain. It's Valentine's Day and I have a date with Katie via video chat online. We barely speak these days, not because of the distance, but because we've run out of things to say. It was hard for her to hear about Nicky, and she knew what I had already been through. These days it became a constant battle of trying to say the right thing. My anger and depression had deepened and I had become a shell of the person I once was. My birthday was next month, but also so was Nicky's. At least one of us would get to see nineteen. At the end of an hour of almost silence and a lot of looking at anything but each other, I told Katie goodbye. She waved, but couldn't say the words. I closed my laptop and smashed it until there was nothing left but wires and broken pieces. I went to the bathroom to clean the deep wounds I inflicted on my hands and smiled as the blood ran down the drain.

"If you don't tell me what's on your mind, I don't know where to begin, Michael."

My mother asked me to try counseling. She thought it could help.

"I didn't ask to be put in therapy. I'm coping with the loss of my brother. I'm not crazy."

"Therapy is good for coping. Nobody here thinks you're crazy. I understand how you must feel, and I'm here to help. It must be very difficult for you to think about what happened, but to get through it, you need to be honest with me."

"Well honestly, I'd just like to know what went through his head. Drugs and guns. How does someone even know how to get that stuff?"

"The same way you knew how to find my office. Someone told you. Someone taught you how to find what you were looking for."

"So in a way it's not his fault entirely, right? He just asked a question and someone knew the answer?"

"Now I think we're getting somewhere."

Having a birthday without Nicky still killed me inside, but I had been feeling better. I got a really good job helping out at a nursing home and that helped to distract my mind. I met Emma Rose the first week there and invited her over to my mom's house to hang out after work one Friday afternoon. My mom gave me the isolated room built into the garage that she was using for storage, but was happy to move some things around to accommodate. My old bed was here, the one I slept on in high school, the one she took with her after the emancipation. There were also old pictures of me, selfies from the camera, or professional photos. She also had my prom picture hanging up from my senior year. Definitely not a great memory considering my date ordered a meal that she was knowingly allergic to because she didn't really want to go with me. A simple "no" would've sufficed, but that would be too easy. Nicky, however, being the spontaneous and eccentric spirit he was, more than made up for it by recreating Marty McFly's guitar routine from Back To The Future. Nicky couldn't actually play the guitar, but he liked the choreography and learned it. He always had a way of making me feel better about things. It's ironic that now when I need him the most, he's gone forever. He is causing this depression, so who will save me now?

Emma was late. She wasn't just a come and go as needed employee like I was. She was a Certified Nursing Assistant, or CNA, and she was on track to receive a nursing degree. It was lucky that I met her when I did because she was on a spring break from school and she was going back the following Tuesday. My birthday happened to fall during the time she was home on the Friday I invited her over. So, I was off work a couple hours before her shift ended, but she was running late.

I almost thought she was standing me up, but lo and behold, she called to tell me she was at the house and I went out to get her. The first thing I noticed was the lack of scrubs. A nursing student transformed into something breathtaking and I almost felt a sense of guilt about Katie, and the worst part was that Emma's perfume smelled like vanilla. Vanilla pudding. The love I felt for Katie was still strong, but that was over, it had to be, and Emma is here and I put my arm around her and she rested her head on my shoulder and her body shaped itself into mine as if it belonged there. As if she was built for me.

I actually found it hard to say goodbye as she boarded the train to return to school in North Dakota. I wondered if I'd ever hear from her again and I wondered if she would call me. I wondered if it was all real or just a figment of my twisted imagination. I took my meds and realized how long it had been since I made any kind of cut on my body. It reminded me of the self inflicted carving Nicky did on himself and maybe that was a sort of healthy deterrent, a dark reminder of my brother amidst the happier memories was I trying to use to remember him. Although I could feel him fading from my mind, I could still feel his presence, like a ghost in this room begging to find closure.

The thing about closure is that it's never final, as I was soon to find out. Nicky came to me that night after I made yet another slice on my scarred shoulder, and though he didn't say anything, I was awoken to see him sitting on the couch in my room. I didn't feel fear, but I did notice the temperature of the room staying the same comfortable 68 it always is. I always thought that a ghost made everything feel icy, but in the shadow of Nicky's hair and blank expression, I felt safe. I called out to him, but he remained firmly seated, and he didn't fade out like the horror movies, but simply got up and walked to the door, opened it, and left. I was almost sure at that point that someone had broken in, but I turned on my lamp and walked to the door only to find it locked from the inside. Maybe I was dreaming, or maybe something else was going on. Maybe this is that part where I lose my mind and follow Nicky. My eyes were wide and I wasn't sure if I could sleep, but I smelled the faint scent of his cologne and drifted off again laying on the couch where he sat.

I called Emma and told her I needed to see her and that I needed a vacation. Being a sophomore, she no longer had to stay in the dorms, so she had her own apartment and told me that she would like it if I visited. I made plans to catch the train, and after taking the next week off of work, I was on my way on a Thursday afternoon. 2010 hadn't started great, but I was determined to turn my life around.

The ten hour train ride was relaxing and refreshing. For a while, I played spades with a group of guys headed to Chicago to play a show just outside of their hometown of Wilmette, Illinois. They looked familiar, like I might've seen them on TV in high school, but I wasn't sure. Their band had the word "boy" in it, but I couldn't remember and I was too embarrassed to ask. Maybe they weren't even that big and I was thinking too hard.

"Pete, let's head to our car", said a fourth member who just walked up.

"Alright, man, hold on. Hey, Michael, nice to meet you. You call yourself Gre'Scale, right?"

"Yeah. It was nice to meet you guys, too. Safe travels."

And they walked off. It wasn't until I returned to my seat and turned on my MP3 that I realized who I just met. Met AND played cards with. I pulled my acoustic out of her case and played the opening chords to "Sugar, We're Goin Down".

Emma's apartment was amazing, even for a studio. Everything was wide open, and her bed was in the same area as the couch and TV facing the kitchen, leaving a space wide open for something that really surprised me. She had a recording studio set up complete with microphones and amps, mixing boards and a PA system, all connected to computer that had a CPU built for music.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Emma Rose. All of this stuff is just my little hobby, and I've decided to show you a little of my dark side, now that we're together. Besides, I know you're having a hard time and I thought a party might cheer you up, and if you would like to play, the floor is all yours."

"Like play for all of your friends?"

"And me. You've never played for me."

All of a sudden, I meet this girl who is in school for nursing and her tank top shows off the beautiful artwork tattooed on her shoulder and back and her hair is down and wild and I think she's perfect and she kisses me and I can feel her tongue ring teasing me and when it's all over we're lying naked under the covers of her bed and she smiles at me and says we have an hour until the guests arrive. We get dressed and she spritzes her vanilla perfume and I can't believe the way she makes me feel. My whole emotional story shifts in a way that seems like it was turning for the better.

As people came pouring in, Emma would introduce me as her boyfriend. I liked that. Her acknowledgment that we were a couple was exactly what I wanted in our relationship. It meant we had plans and goals that we could make together, and I wasn't left confused about where we stood like with Katie. In fact, it was almost like Katie never truly cared until Nicky died. Sure, we had a lot of fun and did a lot of couple-type things together, but she wouldn't label it. It was almost as if she couldn't commit. Maybe she somehow knew I wouldn't be around for very long. But this isn't about Katie anymore. Tonight was all about a new beginning for me, and a new start with my new girlfriend. Emma Rose. She liked her middle name and the way it flowed with her first name. Emma Rose. She was amazing.

I stood there doing my first ever mic check. Emma's friends were mostly mingling and drinking, but a few were curious about me. I wasn't sure what she had told them, but I had quite a few songs under my belt, and some of them were new. At last, Emma told me I could start and I dove right into the song that started it all. Flowing seamlessly from "She's Fallen" to "Right Foot Forward", adding in "The Creature" and "DearKatie", which was the song I began as a letter to Katie before I officially met her. The crowd loved my songs and I decided to play one that I'd only just finished a few days before I got on the train. My first song for Emma.

"This song is called 'Dream' and it's pretty new, so if I mess up, I apologize."

And that was the first time I really looked at the group of partygoers. There had to be fifteen or twenty people here, and all eyes were on me. I expected some to be talking or whatever, but everyone was focused on me. That gave me the confidence to get through the song and play a couple more. I ended with "Ohana", which was shorter, but I loved it. It was written about Katie's idea that I would always have family with her. Tonight, I associated it with this new family, my new friends. I put my guitar down and walked into the crowd. They were clapping and hugging me and then Emma grabbed my hand and kissed me and called out for another round of applause. We began to drink, though not too heavy. Just enough to feel the buzz, but not enough to lose control. The party started winding down around midnight and as the last of the guests left Emma led me to the couch and snuggled up next to me.

"You are something wonderful, Michael. And you are my something wonderful. You are just what I needed in my life. And by the way, I promise."

"You promise what?"

"Your song for me. You told me to dream my sweet dreams, but to promise to wake up next to you. I promise."

"You're just what I needed, too. You're the reason I keep going, no matter what."

"I wish you could stay. I wish you could move in with me."

"I'll just distract you from your schoolwork."

"Trust me, I've been distracted."

The rest of my visit consisted of Emma showing me around town and taking me to her favorite places. We went to the theatre and saw a movie, ate at an amazing sushi restaurant, and went bowling. Emma was so multitalented and fun, and we fit like a glove. When I boarded the train, it was a sad moment. I felt like I missed her the moment the doors closed and I watched her fade into a dot. I looked at the same spot where she stood until it was no longer visible and fell into a deep sleep. A sleep that brought on the nightmares again, and I felt real pain, both emotional and physical. When I was jerked awake by the conductor announcing where we were, I noticed I'd been asleep for nearly the entire ride. That was okay with me. I was ready to be home, and even more ready to start making friends. I realized that being with Emma distracted my mind from the state it was in, and now I needed a new distraction.

"The answer isn't that far off, Creature." I was startled to hear the voice, and even more shocked to see Nicky sitting beside me.

"You know I hate when you call me that."

"I'm the older one. You used to think it made you sound tough."

"Technically, now I'm older. What answer?"

"Your shadow spoke to you the day I ended my life, the day I got this." Nicky pulled back a matted lock of his hair and exposed the self inflicted wound that took him from me.

"So what does it mean?"

"It means that you have a lot to learn about yourself."

"How can I-" Nicky was walking away, and I knew better than to follow him.

I was home again. My mother picked me up from the train station and drove me to the house. I could tell that a change was occurring since the emancipation. It didn't mean much now that I'm nineteen, but our relationship had suffered. There's always time to make things right, and Nicky's death had helped, as morbid as that sounds.

My mother hadn't always been there for me and she wasn't the best at showing emotion, but in the aftermath of what had happened, she was finding herself a little more, and above all, she'd quit drinking. Since I've been home, or at least where home is now, I'd noticed her leaving the house at the same time every night and returning at the same time. When I asked her about it, she said she had a meeting with a group of women who also quit drinking, and that they shared about their lives and helped each other stay sober. She called it AA, and it seemed to be helping her. She was pleasant to be around and she even offered to take me shopping for some new clothes. The trip was a blast, and admittedly the most fun I think I've ever had with her. She asked me about my new girlfriend and I told her that she was great, and that she didn't see me as broken. I wasn't looking for a reply, but she told me something I'll never forget.

"One day you will get married and you'll have your own family, but I will always be your mom and I'll always be here for you. I'm so sorry for the last decade or so, but if you want to try and rebuild trust with me, I would like that. I love you, Michael."

And that was the first time she had ever told me that.

I was slowly gaining new friends and I tried to hold them to a higher standard than what I was used to, but I seem to attract the same types of people. Nights after work turned into later nights at house parties, and while I made an attempt to not drink so much, it was always an inevitable failure. I carried through each day with a blank expression, plagued with the final remains of a hangover, then repeated the process. Insanity is defined by doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. By those standards, I was doomed to return to the hospital, and in reality, it wasn't too far off.

I was set to meet my counselor again in mid-April and I was prepared to tell her how great I've been feeling, how Emma makes me happy and appreciative of the life I've been given, and how work is going well, and how my relationship with my mother is getting better. While talking with me, she asked how I was doing mentally, if I was taking my meds, and how I was coping with my brother's death. Things took a turn for the worse then, and I broke down. When I was aware of my surroundings in a conscience mind, I was in the passenger seat of my mom's car and she was driving along the interstate. I looked at her and was confused, but I couldn't find the words to speak. That was the first blackout I could remember.

During my stay at the hospital this time, I was supposed to talk to the doctors about what had been going on and to reflect on what triggers the emotions. I was allowed one book to read, one that was positive and nonviolent. My mom had brought a couple from my room and I saw the one I wanted immediately. Stargirl, the copy Katie gave me for Christmas. I saw the doctor at 8am the first day and she recommended I talk with some of the other patients, find out about their coping mechanisms, and see if I can develop any tools to help me after I go home. However, instead of taking doctor's orders, I went to my room and began to read. The back cover of the book had an interesting quote on it that confused me and made me think about Katie in a different way and I had a feeling that I might learn a little bit more about her after reading this. I almost thought I could feel her presence in the words on the first couple of pages, and then I became aware of a real presence hovering over my shoulder. I turned to find a very attractive girl in my room reading along with me.

"Excuse me. Who are you and why are you in here?"

"I'm Persephone and I'm allowed to go where I please."

"Well please go find somewhere else to be. I'm busy."

"It's coloring time and my book is boring. Can I color on yours?"

"Look, take the hint. I'm not in the mood."

"You can't treat me like that. I'm schizophrenic and you need to have a better attitude at me."

"I said please. Go away."

"Fine, but I'm going to tell on you."

And she left. I began to read again, disregarding the interruption, and when lunch was called, I hoped to not run into Persephone. Who names their kid that anyway? Why not just call her Stephanie and leave out the "Per". She wasn't at the small table where the other patients were and I didn't see her in the hallways afterwards. In fact, the next time I caught a glimpse of her was in the most unexpected place: crossing the parking lot. I could see her through the window. If she was going to escape, why would she come back? I waited in my room until it was nearly time for the nurses to deliver meds before bedtime and then I went out to the common area where I found her sitting alone at a table reading a book. My plan was to confront her and discover who she really was, but her intentions outweighed mine.

"Who are you? I saw you outside coming back in. Do they let you do that or what?"

"You don't get how this works, do you? You think you can just come in and act like you own the place? I come to you in kindness and you treat me like street trash. If anyone should be asking anyone who they are, it's me. So who are you?"

"My name is Michael and I've been having a difficult year. I know that everyone here has some sort of problem, and I can sympathize, but I'd just like to get through this and go home."

"Look, we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, so how about we wipe the slate clean and start over. My name is Persephone and I'm schizophrenic." She held out her hand to shake mine.

"I'm Michael and I'm bipolar, maybe more, I don't know." I shook her hand, and looked into her eyes. I had a feeling those eyes had seen a lot of hardship, and I felt sorry for her. The bell rang to signal a good night to everyone and Persephone walked away without saying anything.

I read my book for a while, and I found it hard to put down. The story was amazing, how a homeschooled girl came to her first public school in tenth grade, how she was outcasted, but remained in high spirits, and never let anybody tell her she couldn't do something. I could relate, and I wondered if Katie related the same way. We are all outcasts of society with an ability to conform, yet retain our individuality, always seeking the approval of others, yet not always able to approve of ourselves. We all are born and we all die. What happens in between is what counts.

The doctor came to get me at 8am once again. I felt like I had just gotten to sleep, which could've been true, considering my marked page in the book said I had about 50 pages left. She interviewed me a little and told me about my medication changes. She told me I could go home tomorrow if I was ready. I told her to get the paperwork started. Something in my gut told me to tell Persephone, almost like I somehow knew we were destined to be friends. That's when it hit me to ask the doctor about her.

"I know you can't talk about patients, but who is Persephone?"

"Oh, she's no longer a patient. Her diagnosis was false, but she decided to stay voluntarily. She's free to go whenever she wants, but she keeps saying she's waiting for something."

As I walked from the room where I was a talking with the doctor, I scanned the room for a sign of Persephone. I couldn't see her, and there weren't very many patients hanging around. I went back to my room and decided to read the rest of my book. The final page left me in a sea of emotions and wonder. I looked up at the ceiling and back down at the book and as I slowly began to close it, I noticed a handwritten message on the back cover.

'I'm glad you read it. Now you can see why you are so special to me. I will never forget you. Love, Katie.'

Something about Katie's note made me really want to call Emma, but it would have to wait because I wasn't allowed a phone call until discharge tomorrow and I would use it to call my mom to pick me up. Instead, I tried to distract myself with lunch and afterwards, I made a card for myself with a list of goals for the future. As I was finishing up rereading my list, Persephone came into the crafts room and sat down across from me.

"Heard you're leaving tomorrow."

"I bet you did. Can I ask a question?"

"Okay."

"Why play dumb with me and make me think there's something wrong with you?"

"Because I haven't been given a real reason to leave."

"Then what are you looking for? What reason?"

"Something to live for. Something to motivate me to live outside of this place."

"How can you find it if you're isolated?"

"What town do you live in, Michael?"

"Glasgow."

"Well maybe we will cross paths one day. Until then, travel safe tomorrow."

And she got up and left.

The ride home was nearly silent. I called Emma a couple times and left one voicemail. Maybe she was in class, and even if she was, I knew she wouldn't be at ten that night when I got home and called again, but this time, she called back almost immediately.

"Hey, I've missed you."

"Michael, this is hard for me. You're broken and I can't fix you. I don't think we should see each other anymore."

"So I get sick and leave for a few days to get help and now you're just done."

"We were destined to fail. Just accept that."

I've never hung up on anyone in my life, but it seemed to be the right thing to do. I called a friend and made my way to their party, just me, a pack of smokes, and alcohol. A good night of partying felt like just the thing I needed. No girlfriend, a mass amount of emotions, and alcohol. What a perfect combination of things that actually make up the tastiest recipe for disaster. I was met at the door by a skinny kid with hair longer than mine, curly, and tucked back in a ponytail. He didn't look at me, but knocked for the both of us.

Darius, who was hosting the shindig, opened the door for us and greeted the other guy first, calling him Ricky, and then turned to me.

"You know Michael, Rick?"

"No, why? Who's he?"

"We work together, and you guys is pretty alike, and I know you got some medicine that might help ole Mikey out."

"I have some meds, though", I said.

"Oh man these meds is green. They grow on trees, bro!"

"Come with me, Mike. Let's get you a drink and go have a talk."

I remember the cough the most, and the light feeling, as if I was floating. Each time I puffed on the glass pipe, more and more of my troubles disappeared. I love it, and I also felt I could think better. I had an epiphany that my life was going nowhere and that I was destined for the same fate as Nicky. Death, not necessarily suicide, but death fueled by rage. I tried to think beyond it, outside of the box, so to speak, and suddenly I was alone in a white room with Nicky and Katie and they were speaking, but I couldn't hear their voices, and suddenly they turned to me and they had no faces, no mouths, no eyes, and I felt fear, and then it was over and I was blinking my eyes and I could see Ricky and the party.

"How was that?"

"Intense. What was it?"

"Just good ole fashioned weed mixed with a little PCP to take the edge off."

"And that helps your bipolar?"

"Man I ain't bipolar, I just got the medicine."

"But Darius said we have a lot in common."

"I'm sure we do, but I don't know, man. Darius acts like everyone's related or something. Maybe you should ask him."

"I had this vision, or whatever it was. I don't feel good."

"Come on, bro, I'll drive you home."

We pulled in to the driveway and I invited Ricky back to my garage room. The first thing he noticed was my guitar sitting on her stand. He asked if he could play it a little and I instantly recognized it. But it wasn't a famous song. It was from my demo.

"Where did you hear that?"

"I went to college for a couple years and it came on the radio. This kid, the guy that wrote it went through some hard times."

"I know he did. I'm the one that wrote it."

"You're Michael Grey?"

"Yeah, I am. And I'm finally getting back on my feet from all of that."

"I knew you looked familiar. I was a...customer of your brother's. I gave him this box when he came back from rehab, like a, you know, a present. Few days later I heard the news, and moved out here. Small world, eh?"

"I have the box. He left it to me. What's in it?"

"Let's crack it open."

Inside the box was a large stack of money and a small notebook. Ricky told me that he gave Nicky the box and told him he was done, that the business was under, and that it was time to move on. The notebook held the formula for making the crank, as well as a letter from Ricky to Nicky.

"Maybe you should keep the money."

"Nah, he was your brother, and he left it to you. I don't need it."

"What about this recipe?"

"Destroy it. Neither of us needs that kind of trouble. I handmade the box, so you could keep it and put stuff in, if you want."

"Yeah, that would be cool."

There's something about the summer that makes you feel alive. Independence Day is now a week away and I'm helping Ricky pull a block party together. Since the night I met him, I've strictly been smoking weed unlaced, and I've cut back on my drinking. I've been taking my meds when I feel like it, and above all, my mother has relapsed. As a surprise to her and a treat to me, I decided to call Katie and try to patch things up with our friendship. The phone rang four times and right before the fifth, someone answered, but it wasn't her. Katie's mother broke down and told me that a month ago, she was driving and it was raining. She lost control of the car and hit a guardrail, and that because she was so small, the airbag knocked her unconscious, and that she's been lying in a coma ever since. I felt lost in the world, and I went back to where Ricky was and told him. He knew her, but didn't know about another connection between us. They dated before I met her, and he loved her, but she couldn't commit. I told him I knew how he felt. I also reminded him of the vision I had the night I met him.

"She's not going to make it, is she?"

"I can't know that. But I can hope she will."

On July 3rd, I was told by Darius that Emma was coming back to town for the holiday. I can't say I was thrilled at the news, but I did see this as an opportunity to talk to her, to at least explain my side and try and understand hers. I had something else on my mind, though. I had opened Nicky's box the night it was sent to me, along with the copy of the note, but I couldn't tell Ricky that there was something else in it. I put everything back inside except for a CD that Nicky must've made himself. There were eleven tracks on it, and ten of them were deeply sad songs that he left me, mainly because we listened to the same songs on repeat throughout our lives. They were our favorites, and that was the best gift of all in my eyes, that he remembered them. Track eleven was an audio recording of his voice. He reminded me that I had always asked him how hard it is to walk on water, and his response this time was that it's only as hard as it would be to let him go. I found it impossible, and then he ended his talk with words that have left a burning scar on my soul.

"Goodbye Michael. We will see each other again, one day, eventually, and then we will have forever in the afterlife."

But what about this life. Why couldn't you stay? I have so many unanswered questions, so many things left unsaid. I could hear Nicky's voice resonating in my mind and I felt myself losing focus. No, now is not the time for another blackout. If only I could call Ricky, but where is my phone?

"I won't be around forever, Michael. One day you will learn to live without me. One day you will let go and move on."

"I can't do this without you! Nicky! This won't ever end!"

I found it hard to speak, at least not full sentences. Nicky was taken from me and Emma abandoned me. I have nothing else to live for. Oh, Emma, of course. Maybe getting back at her will end all of this pain, but how? Should I just show up to her parent's house and demand to see her, or just break the door down and invite myself in? Where is all of this coming from? Is it the mental illness, a sadness manifesting itself in anger and emotional pain? I could easily just knock and ask to see Emma, and try and talk with her, tell her about Katie's coma and how that makes me appreciate life and that I'm not some crazy hospital room number waiting for death to find me.

I decided to calm myself down and make myself some dinner. I think it was the tedious repetition of slicing potatoes that lulled me into a hypnotized state. I couldn't get my thoughts to stop racing, and it was then that I made my decision.

The early fireworks were beginning as I walked to Emma's house, but I couldn't hear them very well. My mind was focused on the task at hand and my eyes were blurred, allowing only enough sight to guide me toward my goal. She doesn't know, but really, neither do I. I know this is an impulse, but my conscious had failed me, given up control, and there is no filter left in my brain to remind me this is wrong.

Simply put, I knocked as planned, and then I gave all control of my body to fate. Fade to black, credits, the end.

Part 3: Traffic Lights

I looked at the reflection of my newly shaved head in the warped metal mirror above the metal toilet in my cell. A week I've been in here, no one to come and post bail, no lawyer to tell me how bad this is. I had a very faded image of Emma's new boyfriend pinning me to the floor. Guess I didn't see that coming. I'm not even sure I really had a plan, just the knife still coated in potato juice and the idea that either I would get away with whatever happened, or I'd be here. I was allowed one phone call until the charges were filed and I wasted it on my mother who told me not to come home, whenever it was I got out. I used that as a reason to shave my head, a way to start over fresh.

I was finally served papers detailing my charges. One assault with a weapon on Emma, and one assault on her boyfriend. After that came the bail post. I couldn't wait to see who I was being released to, since all of my friends were drunks and my mom had disowned me. After dressing back into my clothes, I was met at the door by none other than Persephone. I was shocked, but at ease, and glad that it wasn't some distant relative or someone appointed by a lawyer.

Her baggy band tee and skinny jean/high heel ensemble threw me off, although I'd only seen her in hospital attire, and had nothing to compare with. She was spinning her keys around her finger and stopped the moment we locked eyes. The jailer in charge of my release went over some supervision rules and we all signed our names and Persephone and I were out the door breathing in the July afternoon air. She led me to a brand new neon green Mustang and it wasn't until we were on the road that I asked what was really going on.

"I told you we might cross paths, but I had no idea how it might happen. Ricky is a really good friend of mine and said he needed a favor. You were my reason to leave."

"So you have money and a car and what? Ricky needs a favor and out of all the people in this state, he asks you."

"It seems that were all connected somehow."

"Yeah, but these small coincidences are adding up and I'd like to know what's going on."

"There's plenty of time to talk, but for now let's get you settled in at my place. We can go get your stuff later."

Persephone's house was definitely lived in. She told me it was passed down through generations of wealthy bankers and she was the new heir. That explained the new car and the fact that once she left the hospital, she had a place to go. Glasgow, however, was an interesting spot for an inherited estate. All of these small coincidences were piling up and I wondered how I got involved in such an interconnected web of people. Ricky knew my brother and dated Katie. I randomly meet Persephone and somehow she knows Ricky, and she just so happens to have this mansion in Glasgow, right where I decided to run away to. Either I'm the luckiest guy alive, or someone needs to start talking.

Persephone led me to a room where I could stay and let me know that it was two doors from the bathroom, and one from her room. I was just starting to believe that the worst was behind me when a nagging thought came through, the kind of thought where you freeze and try hard to remember what it is that suddenly made you crazy. The sweat, it ran down my forehead and I knew there was more to the trouble I was in. What was it? Come on, think. It's there, you know it is. And just as I was ready to let the moment pass, it hit me. The box. The handcrafted box with Nicky's biggest secret inside. The same box that Ricky and I both touched and left-

"We need to go get my stuff now!"

"What?"

"We need to go get my stuff before the cops can go through it."

"Michael, just breathe. I'm sure they've already gone through it, just tell me what's up."

"My brother left me a box that had a bunch of cash and his meth recipe in it. Mine and Ricky's fingerprints are all over it."

"Where was it?"

"Just sitting on a table out in the open. We need to go, now."

Glasgow isn't very big, but when your adrenaline refuses to calm down, it seems like an eternity to cross. I called Ricky's cell phone a couple of times and got no answer. I left a voicemail the third time I tried calling, begging him to call me back, but then I had the horrific thought that maybe he was already done for.

We pulled up to my mom's house and I was relieved to discover that she wasn't there. I opened the gate for Persephone and followed her to the door of the garage and opened it only to discover two strips of police tape across the door to my old room. Using the sleeve of my hoodie, I tried the knob, but it was locked.

"Move over, small time."

Persephone picked the lock with such quickness and ease that I knew without question she had done this before. She opened the door and ducked underneath the tape. I followed and found the light. My room had been ransacked, as I had suspected, but it was left in the same turmoil that the police must've left it. Even my bed and mattresses were turned over, all of my dresser drawers pulled out and gone through. The worst of it all was that the box was gone, and even if it had been left behind, there was no place to hide it. Everything was torn open and there wasn't a single space left that wasn't visible to the untrained eye.

"I can't believe this. What could happen now?"

"You need to play it cool, Michael. They don't know anything, but they have evidence that will put you away if you act dumb about this."

"Hey, show a little compassion. I don't act dumb about anything."

"So I bailed you out of jail because you didn't make a rash decision? Like I said, small time. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

The ride back to Persephone's house was a quiet one. I was scared and angry. Ricky still wasn't picking up his phone, and I feared that one time I would call and it would be the cops who answer. Then they would really have me. She opened the front door and I ran up to my room, or at least what was mine for now, and unpacked the few things I did grab. Persephone talked me into grabbing my guitar because she thought playing it could maybe ease my mind. At this point, that seemed almost impossible. I did manage to strum a few chords right before Persephone told me dinner was ready. This house is so big, and my voice feels so small. Nothing I could say could penetrate the walls, and I'm sure even her voice couldn't reach the distance between here and the kitchen. She asked if I was okay and I lied and said I was.

I was a nervous wreck and my hands were shaking. I couldn't think and I could barely even eat, but Persephone had an idea about Ricky and the box.

"What if Ricky has it and he just disappeared?"

"What makes you think the cops don't have it?"

"If they had a meth recipe, don't you think you would back in jail already? Or do you even think they would've let you out?"

Persephone had a point. If the cops knew something, anything outside of my charges, they'd already have me. As it stood, I was already facing some hefty time, and I didn't need any more drama. How could I, an honor roll student with a promising future be led to such a low point? Can I escape from this? How can I learn to live with what I'd done, with everything that's happened in such a short amount of time, and one day wake up and feel okay? I bet this is exactly what went through Nicky's mind right before the bullet. He took the easy way out, and I won't let my mother lose another child like that. Even she doesn't deserve it.

My heart was racing the next morning as a knock on the door led to a cop serving me with an order of protection signed by Emma. I found a little bit of humor in the fact that she went through all of this trouble to make sure something wouldn't happen, when I knew full well I wasn't going to seek her out anyway. I wouldn't try to convince her to drop the charges, or eventually hold another knife to her throat. God had a plan for me and my intentions were to follow through with the path laid before me. My first court date was a week away and there wasn't one single part of me that wished to make this any harder on myself. The only real thought on my mind was wondering about Ricky. He disappeared right after he called Persephone, it seemed like. Neither of us had heard from him since, and his phone is now disconnected. I closed the door and turned to find Persephone staring at me while she mixed a bowl of waffle batter. One thing about her is that she loved cooking, so with me as a houseguest, she's put her skills to work. She had become my best friend and someone I can really trust. Her personality was so much better than the persona she put on in the hospital. I like the real her, she was fun and free, living life moment to moment, never getting stuck in the dullness of reality. She was a hurricane making landfall, but never giving up her strength, staying strong from the coast all the way here to Montana, not only impossible, but unimaginable, like snow in Africa, or fire underwater. I didn't have an attraction to her like with Katie or Emma, but more like an addiction. The letters of her name were the formula for a drug I could never give up.

"What do you always think about?" Persephone asked me as we ate.

"Like all the time, or just in general?"

"Like my mind is always on you, you and your complex mind."

"I guess I'm always in wonder. This whole world, this life is all new to me. I uprooted my childhood less than a year ago to move here with my mom after my brother took his own life. And I emancipated from her, but I came back because she's family and I had nobody left, nothing back home but problems, so I ran. I guess I always wonder about all of the 'what ifs'."

"Nothing good ever comes from an idle heart. You keep your mind going, but not your heart. You've become cold and bitter, stuck in a hole you dug yourself into. Do you still have that book, the one from the hospital?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because a girl gave you that book in hopes that one day you'd give it back. How can you return anything to anyone if you're too scared to take the first step?"

"I get what I'm given, I understand that. I deserve all of this because somewhere I messed up and now I'm being punished."

"You need to learn something, Michael. Life throws you curve balls for a reason. Events are lessons waiting to be learned. Instead of taking the poor me pity route, make do with what you have and learn from it. Now finish your breakfast and meet me in my room."

"Why?"

"Lesson number one: don't ask questions. Lesson number two: you need to relieve some stress, and my stress hasn't been relieved in some time. Let me show you how to properly thank a lady for a meal."

Persephone led me to her room and laid down on the bed, beckoning me to come lay with her. Something changed in me, though, and I knew it didn't feel right. I knew something was different between Persephone and I, something I'd never felt before. I felt like I shouldn't get myself hung up on all these girls and have my heart broken over and over again. Sure, Persephone is different. She's real and down to earth, but I feel like we're destined to remain friends, like our meeting wasn't just for a short term commitment. We were meant for something much bigger than this.

"Michael, I'm waiting."

"Persephone, don't take this the wrong way, but I can't do this right now. I can't explain why, but-"

"It's okay. I know how you feel. I just got caught up in the moment. You're not like other guys."

"I hear that a lot."

I played my guitar for her that night. I had a few new songs I had written, and we drank coffee and smoked cigarettes all night. I did sleep with her in her bed, and holding her felt nice, but it never went further than that, and sometime in the afternoon I woke up and she brought me lunch in bed.

Then I was in court.

"Mr. Grey, you are being charged with one count of assault with a weapon, a felony, and one count of assault, a felony. Do you wish to make your plea?"

"Guilty. I made a mistake and I will accept any punishment given."

"Very well. Sentencing will be thirty days from now. You have until then to get your affairs in order."

"What are you doing?" Persephone looked worried, but I had a plan.

"Trust me on this one. You just need to do that."

I was still legally out on bail and bound to live with Persephone, but I couldn't have her digging her nose too deep in things. I was admittedly nervous about what was coming, and I knew that with one mistake, everything would fall apart and I would never see daylight again.

I took a walk that night and I soaked up the glow of the only traffic light built in this town. Such a powerful machine, able to direct every vehicle in any part of the world with ease and precision. Able to think without a brain, an understanding of direction and pedestrian need. I was following the direction of many different traffic lights in a "stop and go" kind of life. The light stayed red for a while and I waited patiently in the post-midnight stillness, and though there wasn't a single trace of movement in the street, I waiting obediently for the green light. I stood there for around ten minutes and it never changed, but the moment I started to walk forward, it did. It seemed like I was always jumping the gun a little too fast these days.

"This will be the last time I see you, won't it", my counselor asked me, as I sat in her office a few days before sentencing.

"I'm not coming back to this town. My work is done here."

"What have you accomplished?"

"I have left a lasting impression in the dirt, something I've never done before, something I'm proud of."

"You committed a crime that has shaken this small town. Are you saying you're proud of that?"

"No. I'm proud of what comes next."

"Which is?"

"Utilizing this chance as a way to better myself, to grow into a functioning human being."

"I wish you the best, Michael."

I made the call as soon as I left my counselor's office, the one to set everything in motion. The voice on the other end was altered with a voice changing app, but the message was clear. The person laid the entire plan out for me, just so I understood, and it wasn't foolproof, but it was doable.

When I made my way back to Persephone's house, I was greeted with what little stuff I had on the front lawn. Confused, I walked through the open front door and found her sitting on the steps of the grand staircase leading to the second floor.

"What's going on?"

"When were you going to tell me?"

"Could you elaborate?"

"When were you going to tell me who she was? The girl you assaulted? I got to hear it from my brother. He was very surprised to see the address for you on the restraining order was the same as our family estate."

"Your brother is Emma's boyfriend? The one she cheated on me with?"

"Meet Aries. He would love to find out what else you're hiding from me, but I told him that kicking you out would be easier. If you're no longer welcome, you have no place to go and you will go back to jail. This is over, Michael."

I slammed the front door and looked back at Persephone.

"I refuse. If you have something you need to say, come downstairs and say it, Aries. Man your parents must've hated you guys to stick you with such awful names."

"Aries is the Greek god of war, Michael, and you started one. You brought pain to our family and you cursed this house. You're no longer welcome, so leave."

"Wow, that whole speech sounded like you ripped it right out of a seriously dramatic script for a bad movie. Alright, alright, I'll leave, but I'm waiting for my cue."

"You're out of time."

And then there was a knock on the door. I turned and opened it to find a police officer with an envelope.

"What is it, Michael?" Asked Persephone.

"Emma dropped the charges."

"What? She wouldn't after what you did to her!"

"Looks like she dropped them after getting caught with a recipe for, uh, methamphetamine."

"She doesn't take drugs! She's carrying my child!"

It was then that the room started spinning. Emma, pregnant? And her lover is the brother of Persephone? I can't go through with this anymore. I have to stop this. Wait, no I don't. I don't owe a single thing to these people. Without another word, I left the house and shut the door behind me. I sifted through my stuff on the lawn and put the most important stuff in my backpack and threw the rest in the dumpster, then I picked up my guitar and started walking away. I could hear the sirens getting closer and I pulled out my phone to dial the last number I called. The voice wasn't masked this time.

"Ricky, I'm out and ready to go. Get here quick."

A block away, I sat on the sidewalk and watched six cops get out of their cars in pairs and break down the door to Persephone's house. A few minutes later, her and Aries were drug out in handcuffs and under arrest. They were loaded into the cars, and right as Ricky pulled up and I put my stuff in his backseat, another cop came out of the house carrying a box in gloved hands. I didn't need to look too hard to recognize it. I knew exactly who's box it was. And I knew exactly where they found it. And I knew exactly who put it there.

Ricky kept looking at me, but he didn't say a word. We both knew it had to be done. It felt grimy in a way that tore me apart, but still felt good, almost like I was molting the outgrown shell of the past and becoming someone new, vulnerable, yet empowered. Finally I thought I should say something.

"How's the production?"

"As it should be. Nicky was a genius when it came to this sort of thing."

"I don't want to see it, and after we exit the car, I don't want to hear about it."

"I get it, bro. Do you want to know how everything got planted?"

"I think the less I know, the better."

"So what's the plan?"

"I want to head out to Missoula. It's better out there to lay low for a while I think."

"Well, let's spend the night at my place. I have something I need to tell you."

"What?"

"I think it's better that I show you."

We pulled into the driveway behind a car that had North Carolina plates. I had an uneasy feeling of shock that led easily to confusion. There was only one person I could think of that would've followed me out here and as far as I knew, she was in a coma. I looked at Ricky, puzzled, but he beckoned me to go inside. As my hand touched the doorknob, I froze. Inside I could hear a toddler babbling and a very familiar voice soothing it. No way.

Her name was Mystery, and she was a mystery to me. She was my high school sweetheart, and until the moment I opened the door, I hadn't seen her for over a year, and I hadn't talked to her for much longer.

"What are you doing here? How did you find me?" I wasn't rude, just firmly questioning.

"You weren't at Nicky's funeral. Let's start with that and then we'll get to why I'm here."

"I watched him blow his fucking head off! How could I come back and face everyone and their fake sympathy?"

"The sympathy wouldn't have been fake and you know it. You ran away like you always do. Just like you ran away from me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you remember when I told you I met Daniel and that he wanted to meet you and play some music together? When Daniel and I were just friends, and then you blew up on me, screaming so loud you made me cry? Do you remember the phone call when you broke up with me and told me to leave you alone?"

"You cheated on me, but I never yelled like that."

"Yes, yes you did. And I ran straight to Daniel and I felt so bad that I slept with him. When I was finally ready to face you, I discovered I was pregnant. I wanted to tell you how I felt at the prom where I took pictures, but you wouldn't look at me. Daniel and I broke up soon after that and then you were gone. I talked to Nicky before he died and he remembered our breakup much different because you told him a lie."

"I told him exactly what happened. You told me you were pregnant after avoiding me at school. You were cheating on me."

"That's your perception, but not the truth. You've been living in some kind of alternate life created by your own mind, and that's why I'm here."

"Why? So you can rub it in my face about how bad I screwed up my life?"

"No. To bury the hatchet. Whatever was said, whatever was going on, I forgive you."

"Oh", what else was there to say? "I feel bad for what I've done. I sincerely apologize."

"Good. Now come here and hug me."

Something happens with forgiveness that releases pressure built up inside you. Something that makes your high school sweetheart search for you so she can take the weight off her heart, and in return, you let go of lost feelings you forgot were there. Mystery and I shared a bond created with a simultaneous loss of virginity, some sort of eternal love for each other that reignited the moment I saw her.

But then again, I knew I couldn't stay. I let her go a long time ago. Mystery's sudden return and unexplainable interest in me was a little off-putting.

And suddenly Ricky was there asking me what was wrong with his couch. There was no Mystery, but it was happening again. It had been a few days since I took my meds, and I was starting to hallucinate. But why her? Why would my mind manifest her into my warped reality now? Was it some sort of omen, a foreshadowing of what was to come? Karma is what it is. I framed Persephone to save myself. Who have I become.

"You've become The Creature once again, Michael." There was Nicky coming down the hallway, with the side of his head caved in once again, although this time he showed more signs of rot, almost as if he had just crawled out of his grave as a zombie ready to feed on the flesh of my-

"Michael! Are you in there?"

"Sorry man, it's been a rough day."

"Well snap out of it. Persephone is on her way."

"She...what?"

"You didn't think I'd let her go down for real did you? She's coming with us. It was all part of the plan."

"Ricky, I don't think I've told you enough how much I appreciate your brain. And by the way, whose car is that with the Carolina plates?"

"I'll tell you later."

When Persephone arrived, she gave Ricky and I both a hug, and to my surprise, kissed me. As unexpected as it was, it felt comfortable, just like that night she took me to her room and I blew her off. I felt like if I could relive that night, I wouldn't deny her, but embrace her very being, hold her and kiss her and tell her how I really feel.

"Watch yourself, Creature."

"Isn't it time for you to cross over yet?"

"This isn't a fairy tale, kid. You know I'm just a figment of your twisted imagination. You watched me blow my head apart and now you're so damaged, you can't let me go." He was breathing down my neck. Breathing, another quality ghosts don't possess. I was starting to believe that the real world was a lot scarier than the movies.

"Can I talk to you, Michael?"

"Yeah, Persephone, of course."

We left the house and started to walk down the driveway into the darkness of the woods. Ricky's house was a cabin at the foot of a mountain just outside of Glasgow. Like Persephone, the cabin was given to him by his parents, although they weren't bankers. They were killed in a car accident on the road leading to the cabin when Ricky was seventeen. The cabin was given to him in their will, along with everything in it. There wasn't much to the will, though, considering nobody expects to die in their thirties, so a lot of their possessions and worth was left to the state. Ricky was told by a lawyer that he could sue and claim the rest since he was an only child and only living immediate family, but instead, probably out of grief, he opted to relinquish the remaining property and allowed it to sit in legal limbo until it was auctioned off and sold to the highest bidders. The only thing he kept without the knowledge of anyone was a secret key that opened an unaccounted for safe within the cabin which held a very large sum of money that his parents acquired robbing banks in New York. They were never caught and lived in exile until their death.

Of course I didn't know this until Persephone told me. He had corrupt connections in the system, and they had been friends for years. Ricky met Persephone right after his parents died, at their funeral. Her drunken mother was driving the car that hit Ricky's parents head on. She was also killed in the accident. Persephone's father took his own life after signing all of his assets and the estate over to her. A year later, Ricky spent his time at the same college I went to, and now here we are.

"So there's your connection. It's kind of strange how interconnected we are, but it's true. You can thank Ricky for getting you out of trouble. It was his idea, and that's why he disappeared for a while."

"Why did he frame you? And now you're just here?"

"Five of those cops that showed up were real. It all just had to look official so when the charges were dropped against you, someone had to take the fall. I was acting angry at you so Aries wouldn't get suspicious. It was a weird coincidence that he chose your girlfriend to sleep with."

"So he really is your brother then? What's going to happen to him?"

"Well with the copy of the recipe I planted on Emma, along with an anonymous tip to the police, plus the original I kept in the box with Aries' fingerprints all over it, I'm pretty sure they're going away for a long time. Aries and I have never seen eye to eye, and even though they'll tell the truth, Ricky made sure there was enough evidence against them that the judge will convict. A small price to pay for your freedom."

"All of this for me? Why?"

"Because Ricky and I loved Nicky and we promised to protect you."

I became suddenly aware that Nicky was silently walking next to us. He was nodding his head as if to tell me that it was all true. I smiled at him and he winked, but then he was gone.

"So what's the next move?"

As Persephone and I neared closer to the cabin, there was a chill in the air. It was starting to get cold, and cold in Montana didn't mean the same thing that it did in North Carolina. I put my arm around Persephone and felt very aware that she moved in closer to me. I looked at her and she looked right back into my eyes, searching, and the signal was read as I expected. We kissed, and it was an almost aggressive kiss, one found only in romantic movies, and then it was over and we smiled and silently finished our walk. I opened the door to the cabin and saw Ricky sitting on he couch with his head down.

"What's going on?"

"Katie...she woke up earlier today. It's been eating me alive that I didn't tell you earlier."

"She's alive? And talking?"

"You asked me who's car that is out there? How do you think it got here?"

"Someone drove it, but who, Ricky?"

I heard footsteps and looked up to see an all too familiar face, and one that I never expected to see again.

Part 4: Small Stories

I stood in the middle of the Parkton Recreational Baseball Field at two in the morning waiting. Nicky was still in the car and I was here to settle a score. A very short phone call gave me all the information I needed. Two o' clock sharp. Come alone. Bring the cash. I looked at my watch and saw that he was four minutes late. I glanced at Nicky and shook my head. He pointed and I saw the headlights closing in. All four doors of the SUV opened and six guys came toward me.

"Nicky, my dude. Any reason why you've been avoiding me?"

"Eric", I said knowing that the whole twin thing had him fooled, "I wouldn't avoid you. We just had a little miscommunication."

"For a month? With interest, your little miscommunication is going to cost you somewhere close to ten grand. But hey, we're friends right?"

"I would like to think so. What's your offer?"

"My offer is simple. Tell your brother to get out of the car and come talk to me. Then we can negotiate."

"What do you want with Michael?"

"I already have Michael. I want the real Nicky, and if he plays his cards right, you both might get to keep your lives."

I beckoned and Nicky started walking toward me, but two of Eric's guys ran to him, threw him down and drug him toward us.

"Eric, seriously! Is that necessary? All this over some poker debt?"

"Oh Michael, has your brother not told you the truth about himself? This is over meth, and if he doesn't deliver our product or the cash", he pulled a gun from his pants and cocked it, "his blood is going to stain the sand forever."

"Meth? Nicky?"

"Just do it, Eric", spat Nicky, "leave Michael out of this."

I think the gunshot scared all of us, but after checking himself, Nicky got to his feet unscathed. We were confused until we saw Eric crumble to the ground and his buddies scatter. The person behind him holding a gun of his own was someone neither Nicky nor I expected to see. The valedictorian of our graduating class with a full ride scholarship to the college of his choice that he received with outstanding honors in math. A man that became our friend until I lost touch with him after going to college.

A man that was now standing in front of me as if he walked straight from my memory. Some people never change.

"Evan, bro, how's it been?"

Before I knew it, he looked lunged at me and pinned me to the wall."

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"You never turn your back on family! You hear me, punk?"

"I didn't turn my back on him and you know it, you misinformed sack of shit!"

"Not Nicky, me. You left me to rot back there! While I buried my best friend! Where were you?"

"I had to leave, Evan. I had to get away from that place!"

"What was so important, huh? College? The girl? What? Why was I babysitting your junkie brother while you were playing asylum and skipping town?"

"You checked him into rehab, didn't you? Why didn't you tell me? I went crazy trying to figure out what happened to him!"

Evan released his grip on me and sat on the couch. Persephone looked horrified, and Ricky crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. I guess this is what happens when your old life and your new life collide.

"They never found out who killed Eric, did they?"

"Yeah, they did, but it wasn't the truth. Nicky was beat up by what happened, mentally, ya know? He convinced himself when he was high on that junk that he shot Eric, and he just walked into the police station and confessed. After a couple days in jail, he had a choice of whether to follow through with the confession or clean himself up. I guess he figured out at that point who really killed the dude, but instead of ratting me out, he asked me to take him to the addiction place."

"Did you know what he planned to do?"

"Trust me, there was no plan. He checked himself out and that's where you came in."

"Where were you at that point?"

"Under the impression that Nicky was getting help. I didn't find out until I saw it on the news later."

"So who really left who to rot then? So easy to cast then blame when you have a guilty conscience."

"He wasn't my brother."

"That, whoever that was in that room, was not my brother. That was just an empty vessel. And it was your cook that did it to him."

"My cook?"

"It was your recipe. Valedictorian, honors in math, while Nicky had honors in chemistry. You guys made a great team, but it was your formula."

"Hey, stop it, you idiots", interjected Ricky, "there's no reason to keep up this fighting."

Evan gave me one last look and threw himself back on the couch. I went to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water from the tap.

The sleeping arrangements for the night were less than stellar. I found myself tossing and turning on the floor, and at one point early in the morning, I woke up to find Persephone gone. I looked out the window to see her and Ricky sitting in the porch. I also noticed Evan's vehicle was gone. Somewhere between last night and now I must've dozed off enough to not hear him leave. I decided it was best to leave them alone and I sat on the empty couch and got lost in my thoughts. It was then that it hit me that Evan asked about Katie. Not by name, but he referred to her as 'the girl'. I wondered how much he really knew about what I've been up to, or if he really even cared to know the details. Sometimes, I think, the best gossip only knows the incriminating parts of the story, but never truly understands the feelings behind the actions. When I left Katie, I was under the impression that I was doing it to better myself, to start over fresh, but the past always seems to haunt. I was beginning to obsess over the fact that all of this was happening for a reason, and if that was really true, it wouldn't have mattered where I moved to, nothing would've changed. Somehow, everything would've happened exactly the same, maybe with different people, but the same. That being said, I'm glad it happened with these people. I'm very proud to call Ricky and Persephone my friends. Everybody comes with their fair share of flaws and mistakes, but I'm able to look past that and I can see that all of this was done out of love. They went to extreme measures to save me, and all I can do is hope that I'll get a chance to return the favor.

Ricky's car died in Butte. Persephone's Mustang would've cost too much in gas, so she sold it to a very happy guy for a really good price. He asked what was wrong with it and Persephone let him test drive it alone to prove it was in working order. Whether he came back to pay her or not, we never knew. As soon as he was gone, she came back to Ricky's car and we left. There was too much blood in that car. The cops would be looking for it and us as soon as they discovered how bad they've been duped with all of the very illegal shenanigans Ricky and Persephone conspired to help me go free. They could only listen to the lies from Emma and Aries so much before they figured it out.

"Looks like we're stuck here overnight", stated Ricky, "needs an oil change and some kind of pump. Guy says it'll be here tomorrow."

"And how are we paying for it?"

"You are,Michael. You didn't think I wouldn't save your rainy day fund, did you?"

Inside the glovebox, taped to the top, was the stack of money Nicky left to me.

"You know, if that's okay."

But I was floored. Ricky really was a true friend.

"Yeah, man, for sure. How much is there?"

Butte isn't the biggest or most prospering town in Montana, but with somewhere near a quarter million in a plastic bag, we were definitely going to have a great night. It was an old mining town, and it used to be the capitol, bringing in millions before it started shutting down. The town itself is still littered with original buildings and houses, and supposedly it houses the original Butte underground. Storefronts have storefronts underneath them, complete with original doors and windows, and now they were covered by decades of cobblestone and sidewalk building up to the streets we saw today.

At least that's what we were told by a local as we wandered around seeing all of the lights and looking for a good hotel. There was some sort of festival going on and there were people everywhere. Some streets had been blocked off and there was live music on just about every block. Ricky offered me a hit off of the bowl he brought out, telling me it was the same stuff as the night we met, and this time I was ready. Come on PCP demons, attack me with what I already know, nothing can ruin this night.

And I found myself peaceful, holding Persephone. In the quiet dark of 2 am, I was kissing her neck and trying to live in the moment as my thoughts seemed to escape me, and all that mattered now was her. We seemed to melt together, surviving on a lone heartbeat. It might've gone a little bit further, but Ricky materialized in front of us yelling. His voice was muffled and I thought I had been imagining it, but no word is more sobering than hearing your best friend yell, "Cops!"

We got separated then.

Ricky ran on ahead, and even in the silent night, I couldn't tell which way he went. Persephone grabbed my hand and drug me along the sides of some buildings, then down an alleyway. On the other side of the alley, I saw a burning car, and on the same block, there was a building on fire. I stared in horror, only speculating what could've happened, then Persephone drug me along the street, which was now becoming more crowded but curious bystanders wondering the same thing as me: what's happening? Without warning, Persephone pushed me into an open car door and slammed it, leaving me no words or direction. I slunk down into the backseat and tried to get my breathing under control. Suddenly, I could hear a tapping and then a voice asking if somebody was there. Then the crackle of a radio and another voice announcing an all clear. It was the cops and they were looking for someone. I guessed it was whoever set these fires, and they were looking hard.

I held my breath to allow enough dead air to hear better, and what I heard terrified me. There were footsteps leading to the car where I was now hiding, and if they looked in here and found me hiding, they might suspect me of being who they were looking for. This car was old, and I remember when I was younger I was really interested in anything that had to do with cars. I was curious to know how they worked, right down to the features, and the things added into cars that had no necessary function but to add comfort or for cosmetic purposes. This particular car had an added feature that could possibly save me right now. However, I didn't need to know the make or model of the car to see it, I just had to know what I was looking for. There was a small loop on the top of the backseat that, when pulled, opens up into the trunk, and that's exactly what I did. The moment I was in the trunk and pulled the seat back, I heard the cop tap on the windows with his flashlight and call into the car. I held my breath again and waited for the footsteps to leave. Inside the trunk, it was a lot easier to hear what was going on outside, and a moment after the cop started to leave, I heard another cop announce that he found a body.

From the sound of things, the body found was unrecognizable, "beat to a pulp", as one of the cops said. I heard the other, possibly the one that was at the car I was hiding in, ask if there was an ID. What the first cop said chilled me to the bone. It was confusing and very strange.

The ID was for one Michael Grey.

I had to reach into my back pocket to make sure my wallet was still there, and it wasn't. You'd think that when somebody steals your wallet, they take your cash and use your cards to tap you out of all of your money, not plant it on a body. Seriously, what is going on?

I slept in that car and woke up sober, but I had a headache. I hadn't drank any alcohol, so it was probably a side effect of the PCP. I decided to check my phone to see if Ricky or Persephone had called, and to find out what time it was, but my phone died sometime in the night. Then I became aware that I was in the trunk of car that was currently moving. I had no way of knowing where I was or if the people in the car knew I was there, and I decided to remain silent. Eventually the car would stop and I'd make my way back home. I thought a lot about Parkton and after this little experience, I felt like I needed to just go home. This twisted little life that Nicky somehow drug me into was not how I imagined my life would turn out.

This is the part where I recognized one of the voices, and even though it was muffled through the seat, I knew it, and I now understood that Persephone pushing me into this particular car was no accident.

"I still can't believe he got away. Seriously, Emily how can one small kid slip through our fingers? Persephone swears she got the right car and it wasn't long after I planted his ID on that body that we came back."

"I don't know, Evan, his brother was a crafty one too, maybe it's just in his genes."

Evan hit the breaks hard, hard enough to jostle me, but not enough to make a noise.

"Being an escape artist is not genetic, you moron. It's an art. This is twice now!"

"You had now way of knowing Ricky would turn on you. Maybe he got to Persephone and she has Michael with her."

So that answers one question, but raises another. Evan had no idea I was in the trunk, but why exactly am I here in the first place?

"Well at least Ricky is behind bars now. He can't get in the way this time. We're going to get what's owed to us, Emily."

Owed to them? Somehow I need to get out of here, and quick.

After what seemed like a year, the car finally stopped. I heard both doors open, and footsteps leading away. I waited for a few minutes to hear if they were coming back and contemplated the chances of a successful escape. Slowly and noiselessly I pushed open the back seat of the car and looked out into the daylight. I peeked through one of the windows, and what I saw took me by surprise. An empty parking lot and what looked like and old warehouse of some kind. No signs of life anywhere around, and so quiet, save the occasional caw of a bird. There was a chimney of sorts at the top of the worn out building spewing smoke, so I knew something was going on inside, and then it hit me where we were.

Ricky told me about the formula from the box, and how production was going by good. I asked him not to talk about it, told him I didn't want to see it, but karma can be a bitch sometimes. I chose to just get out and run until I found someone. I vowed to never talk about it, never tell a soul. I dove through the backseat and threw open the car door, and as soon as my feet hit the ground I ran. Funny thing about running, sometimes there's a fence, and I jumped and grabbed the links, and instantly was shaken by volts of electricity coursing through my body and dropping it to the ground. I couldn't move or think, I just kept convulsing, and when I finally could see again, Evan was standing over me with a gun pointed at my head.

"Look, boys, we had the mouse all along. Welcome to Hell, Michael Grey, you snuck right into the hornet's nest."

I sputtered, trying to say something, and I couldn't stop smiling. Evan got right in my face.

"What is it, little guy?"

"Y-your stupid c-catchphrases still suck, bitch." So he smacked me in the face with the butt of the gun. That's really going to hurt when I can feel my skin again.

"Get up, Michael. I want to show you something."

I struggled to my feet and decided it might not be a good idea to try running again. Besides, it might be fun to see the dark side of Nicky's legacy in action. In case you didn't catch it, that was sarcasm. For some reason, being electrocuted makes everything funny. I case you didn't catch it, that was serious. Okay, I confused myself.

The inside of the warehouse was huge, but it was filled wall to wall with all kinds of machines that served no purpose but to create illegal drugs. On an immense scale, I might add.

"All of this was made possible by your brother. Yeah we couldn't have done it with ole Nicky Grey. He downplayed you, though, Michael. He made you out like you were an idiot or something, like all you care about was writing. I know about your funny little songs. But you've got guts. Must've been another of his tall tales, but they weren't full of heroism, no, they were full of lies and deceit. But you know, at the very core of each tall tale, are the small stories, and they're the ones that matter the most. Why? Because inside of each small story is a glimmer of character flaw, and when you can see each flaw compounding on top of one another, you can see who is truly faithful. Are you going to be faithful Michael? Because Nicky wasn't. He was the chemist, he created the formula, not me. I used my knowledge of mathematics to make this all a reality. However, Nicky was cofounder of this operation, so we blew up and framed my favorite picture of him as a tribute."

Evan pointed up toward one of the walls and what I saw almost make me vomit. There hung a gigantic, fully proportionate, grotesque image, the last picture of Nicky anyone would see, not that it should've been seen. It was the crime scene photo of his suicide, and it was a lot more grisly than I remember.

"What is wrong with you, Evan? What is it in your twisted little brain makes you believe that any of this is okay?" I pointed at the picture, "that makes you think that is okay."

"You want me to take off my mask and reveal who I am?"

"I want you to start making sense of all of this. And I want to know why you faked my death."

"Because, either you decide to work for me, or I shoot you where you stand. Either way, the police already believe you're dead, and they've been looking for you since Aires broke through to them and told them the truth. He was coming for you, too. I did you a favor."

"How did you get Nicky to kill himself?"

"I told him I killed you. I looked after him in his depression and fed him the drugs. He was so far gone. And then I told him that if he thought he saw you, that he should use the gun and take his own life. I told him that no matter what you tried to say, to not say anything and just end it."

"Why us, though? Did we piss you off in high school or something?"

"No. I have no reason or motive, it's just that one day I woke up and I tasted blood. It turned out that I bit my cheek in my sleep and as I slept, the wound drained, and in the morning, my teeth were red and I felt a fire inside of me. Before I went to bed that night, I had shot and killed Eric. I felt calm, almost like I had discovered what I was meant for, my purpose in life. Ever since that day, I have felt alive, real. Nothing gives me pleasure in life the scent of blood."

"You're a psychopath. You are not human! You belong in a cage!"

"Ah, speaking of which, I'm tired of this talk. Take him to the brig."

I pretty much walked alone. There was a guy alongside me telling me which direction to take. We exited the back of the warehouse through a door and then I was led to a smaller shed which was the same rotting brown as the warehouse. I thought that maybe I could hit this guy hard enough to knock him out, but admittedly, I've never been in a fight. I kept picturing it in my head and the only thing I could imagine was throwing a punch right to the nose and while he was down, I might kick him in the gut and shove his face in the dirt. The reality was that my arms already felt like rubber and the only thing attempting a hit would do is make me look like and idiot and probably get me killed. So, Plan B was to figure out what was in this shed and maybe find a way to take the control back. I swear, if I ever make it out of this, I am moving to a whole new city where nobody knows me, and I will hide in my home and never look out of the windows. This is NOT how I want to spend my life!

"You open it, this is where I leave you."

"What if I don't open it?"

"Trust me, you'll want to." He winked.

He...what?

"Oh, and Michael?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for not trying to attack me. It would've been really hard to save face." And he walked off without looking back.

Now curiosity was beginning to take over. Whatever is behind this door must've been worth bringing me out here. No use just standing here. If I have a chance, I'm taking it. I pulled the handle and heard an engine rev.

"Get in, Michael! Don't ask questions, we have only a few minutes!"

I did as I was told and hopped into the car right next to Persephone. Why does it feel like she turns me in for collateral and then always seems collect me again? We've come a long way since the hospital.

Persephone literally put the pedal to the metal, cranked the volume on the Bring Me The Horizon song playing and burned some serious rubber, taking the face of the shed with her, swerved around the side of the warehouse and headed toward the gate. There was a sudden commotion at the front of the warehouse and I could see Evan's sadistic smile as we flew through the gate and down the road.

She had tears in her eyes, but I couldn't find the words to ask. There were so many things I wished I could say or do, but in the end I put my arm around her.

We stopped at a gas station to get something to drink and to refuel. Persephone hadn't spoken a word and she was in the bathroom for a while, so I sat in the car and played a game on my phone. She had a charger hooked to the cigarette lighter and I was able to recharge it while we drove. I had two voicemails from Ricky. The first was all static, but the second bore only two sentences.

"Never stop trusting Persephone, no matter what. She knows what she's doing."

Persephone finally returned to the car and threw a soda at my lap. I grabbed it and opened it up, but I didn't drink right away. I looked at her with her sad eyes and wondered if she wasn't cut out for this either. She didn't look at me, though, just started the car and drove. A few miles later, we were pulling into Butte and I broke the silence.

"What are we doing here?"

"We are bailing Ricky out and then we're leaving town. I've got a few friends in Missoula who will put us up for a couple of nights and then we'll figure out what to do from there."

"This is all part of the plan, right?"

"The plans are gone, Michael. Ricky knew where Evan was doing work, but he had no clue that Evan would get involved now. Evan started a war and we're going to finish it."

"So what's the plan now?"

"There is no plan. Evan wants blood and we're going to give it to him. First we need Ricky."

We pulled up into the tiny parking lot of the jail. I recognized it as the same area where the garage was, and the mechanic was probably still waiting for Ricky to pick up his car. It seemed like none of that mattered now. Material things were only meant to be lost and found by someone else.

Ricky, however, was a person, and we lost him again, but this time, he was found by someone else.

"Yeah, he was bailed out an hour or so ago", stated the jailer, "by an Emily Trent. Poor kid didn't seem to want to go seeing how he didn't recognize the girl, but I told him he could either go or stay, didn't matter to me, but we was keeping the bail money."

Persephone ordered me to not ask questions, that she had no answers, and we were going to the warehouse. She was speeding so fast and before I knew it, my worst fears were met. The cop behind us flashed its lights and soon the siren was flipped on. In a way, I believed Persephone knew what she was doing. Ricky's voicemail kind of helped me trust her. But she kept speeding right out of town with the cop in hot pursuit. It didn't seem like backup was anywhere near, so if she could somehow lose this one car, we might be fine.

That wasn't her intention, though, and I knew it. She was going to lead him right to the compound and end this fight. Then the cop would call for backup and raid the warehouse and we would get Ricky back. It all seemed liked a fantasy, one of those adrenaline-fueled scenarios where you can't see a single thing going wrong.

That is, until something goes horribly, unexpectedly wrong.

The voice that came from that cop car's bullhorn was Evan's. He ordered Persephone by name to pull over, and assured us that we would live. Him I didn't trust so much. Evan was a hazard to all of us.

Gunfire. Much different than a pistol. I looked back to see Evan wielding a sawed off shotgun and pointing it at the tires. The first shot missed and I was waiting for him to take the second before he needed to reload. Persephone stayed in control, and I knew she was trying to hold Evan off for another couple miles until we got to the turnoff for the compound. It was only us on the road, not one single other car out to get in the way or call it in. We zoomed right past the gas station Persephone and I had stopped at earlier. She had fire in her eyes and was closing in on the last mile. I heard The second shot and I knew we wouldn't make it. The blast took out the left side of the bumper and punctured the tire. I only knew that by the fact that we were losing stability. There was no way I could hear the pop over the roar of the engine and Evan's constant screaming through the speaker. A quarter mile left. Come on, Persephone. Hold it. Come on!

She slammed the brakes and slid sideways onto the dirt road leading toward the warehouse, but even with one now very flat tire, she brought us closer to the fence where we had just escaped. The vibrations from the gravel against the bare rim of the wheel were giving me a headache, but I was prepared for anything. Finally, without warning, Persephone spoke.

"On the count of three, open your door and jump." I nodded, "One. Two. Three!"

We tucked and rolled from the car, gaining a mass amount of scrapes and bruises, and as I rolled to a stop, I could see Persephone already getting to her feet, and then I wasn't sure what to watch. Either the car we were in flying at high speed by itself toward the warehouse, or Evan in the cop car coming to a screeching halt. I could hear the crash in the warehouse, mixed with yelling and screaming from inside, but I couldn't look just yet. It was time to finally face Evan once and for all.

Even exited the car, but I could see at least two more people in the car, silhouettes outlined behind tinted glass.

"You two owe me big! I kind of thought about letting you go, but look at what you've done! You ruined my empire!"

"Empires were made to fall, Evan", yelled out Persephone, "you have been an awful person and an awful friend! None of this had to happen!"

"Well then, I suppose now I can quit the business and retire, right? Spend my days fishing and gossiping with the other retirees at the bar?"

"Somehow, someway, you will get caught. Someday you will either get killed or spend your life behind bars!"

"Who's gonna kill me, huh? You? Ha!"

"Just give me Ricky and everything will be fine. Let him go and we can forget about this!"

"Forget about what, exactly? You caved in my lab!"

I took that time to look back, and it was true. My brother's so called legacy was now caved in by the wall getting taken out. The roof was still working on a full collapse and the building was now beyond repair.

"I could've saved your life, Evan, just now, right there!" Persephone was screaming in rage.

"No, all you did was end your own. Emily!"

The passenger door of the car opened and out stepped a girl that I heard speak from the trunk, but I hadn't seen before. She was a brilliantly bright colored blonde, wearing big sunglasses and short. She couldn't have been more than five foot even.

"Babe, could you please fetch me the boy? I would really like to play with him."

She let Ricky out, bound and gagged with what seemed to all be the same material, and his face was cut and bruised. It all looked fresh, as if Evan had the shit beat out of him the moment they left that parking lot. This Emily must've been the girl that bailed him out. She had something familiar about her, and Ricky looked at her as if he was pleading for his life, like they were long lost friends.

"Allow him to speak, doll."

Emily pulled the gag out of Ricky's mouth and he coughed and spat.

"I have so much dirt on you, Evan. I'm going to bury you underneath the prison, you sick fuck!" Persephone couldn't control herself.

"Sweetheart, what should I use to kill my old friend?"

All of these pet names were starting to weird me out. He said them with absolutely no emotion, no feeling. There was definitely no trace of the valedictorian Evan I once knew left.

"Stop, Evan." I was calm now. "Don't kill him. I'm the second Grey brother that you want, so why don't we make a blood trade? You let him go and you can have me."

"So brave, and yet, I see no courage. You have guts, Michael, but no heart. Sacrifice isn't in your nature, unless the sacrifice is of yourself. You would not be a suitable trade."

"Then what will it take for no bloodshed?" asked Persephone

Something about Ricky caught my eye. He was moving his arms in a way that almost seemed like-

"There needs to be blood. Somebody will pay for your betrayal. Maybe if you and Ricky had been good little slaves and just done what I asked, maybe then everything could've been okay. But not now."

Evan pulled a pistol from his pants, but in the instant he drew the gun, Ricky jumped up and grabbed him, a few shots were fired as Evan struggled, and Ricky kept attempting to force the gun down, but no matter what, Evan seemed stronger. Still, he kept firing rounds, and the moment he saw his chance, he smacked Ricky with the gun and while he was on the ground, Evan pointed the gun right at him. I took that as my opportunity to try and be the hero, ran up to and tackled Evan to the ground, and the final shot went off. Evan rolled over and kicked me in the face to get me off of him, then stood up, walked to the cop car and drove away. I helped Ricky to his feet and noticed immediately that the last shot hit Emily. Ricky went straight to her and checked her wrist for a pulse and then held her. I could hear her talking softly, and then I looked for Persephone. She was sitting cross-legged and holding her stomach. As I was walking to her, she fell to the ground, passed out. I noticed a severe amount of bleeding from her abdomen. I became aware that all of the lab workers were gone, left to hide somewhere probably, and hope they were never caught. I pulled my phone out to call the police, but there was no service. I held Persephone and stroked her hair, asking her to hold on until somebody came. I looked at Ricky sitting in almost the same position and he had tears in his eyes. Why? After all that her and Evan had done?

The distant sound of the siren was getting closer. Hopefully the police would notice the shredded tire at the end of this road.

Within about ten minutes, I watched as the paramedics loaded Persephone and Emily into two different ambulances. A police officer was getting a statement from Ricky and I was making sure Persephone was stable before I gave mine.

"Both heartbeats are strong, blood pressure is low, but she should be okay, kid."

"Did you say two heartbeats?"

"Yeah, didn't you know she was pregnant?"

Part 5: Infinity

If I could press pause on this one moment, if everything and everyone stopped long enough to show you a 360 degree view of the waiting room, I could allow you a glimpse into my mind and what I see. Everything was in slow motion, yet it was nearly impossible to point out every little detail as it unfolded, sort of like looking for one number 8 inside a group of one hundred Bs. I needed to get outside and breathe.

I hadn't thought about quitting cigarettes, it's just that a lot had been happening and it was the last thing on my mind. Still, as I stepped outside and saw someone smoking, I asked if I could bum one. I told him it was a rough day and he agreed.

"My daughter has cancer. She's only five and now I have to decide whether or not she gets to die."

"My girlfriend was shot and she's pregnant. She's in surgery now."

And that was the extent of the conversation. There was no exchange of sympathetic apologies, only a silent nod.

As I entered the door to the waiting room, I found Ricky standing there with tears in his eyes. He told me Persephone made it through surgery, but the baby didn't. I asked him about Emily and he pointed to a sleeping girl in a sling. He told me she'd only been grazed in the forearm, but passed out from the pain and that she was going to be fine. Cradling the arm in the sling was her left hand, and on it was a bright diamond ring. She was probably going to look for a divorce after this.

"Should I go talk to her?" I asked as if I wasn't sure if I even wanted to.

"You can, she's been asking for you, but, bro, you're going to need to brace yourself. Emily...that's not her real name."

"Well, could you tell me what it is?"

That was six months ago. Persephone's depression and physical therapy have kept her locked in her hospital room, and a few weeks ago, she started refusing visits from anyone but Ricky. A few times a week, he would leave and come back with the same report: stomach is healed, but limited walking, depression is still bad, doesn't wish to see me right now. Admittedly, Ricky swears her limited walking is due to a lack of trying. And easily, I could walk into her room, but she set a boundary and I'd rather not upset her more.

I grew closer to the girl that changed her name to Emily after being kidnapped by Evan and brainwashed with his drug. The meth was so far gone from her system and she was in recovery. All of us were, including Ricky, who flushed the last of his stash to christen the new house were we're living in. The police were notified that Mystery had been found, but she decided to stay. I told her about the vision I had, and that I saw her kids, but she told me that Daniel divorced her and took the kids after a judge deemed her unfit to care for them. Apparently, they were married shortly after the prom she took pictures at. He was controlling and forced her into it, but she finally broke free of him with Evan. Mystery told me she had nothing to go back to, and that she'd rather stay.

Ricky and I were working real jobs as housekeepers at a motel, and we actually enjoyed the work. It was laid back and relaxing, and at this point, Valentine's Day was around the corner, and the air was cheerful. Maybe it was the fact that we hadn't seen or heard from Evan, but I felt calm, serene, and safe. Ricky and I made enough to keep up the rent and other living expenses, and Mystery could live rent free. Persephone was using her family's wealth to once again live in a hospital.

It came as a shock on Valentine's Day that Mystery decided to go back home to Parkton. She said her mom wanted her back and she had already decided to leave anyway. I found her packing after work that day. She had already left a note on her pillow.

"What's going on?"

"You guys have been great, but Parkton is the lesser of two evils as far as bad memories go."

"So will I ever see you again?"

"There's always a possibility, but we have new lives and a chance to start over again. It's not impossible, but unlikely."

She left and I took a look around her empty room. Always neat and tidy, like she was in high school. I picked up the note and crumpled it up without reading it. There was no need for written goodbyes, just a verbal message passed on to Ricky when he got home.

But he never came home. I figured he went over to see Persephone and decided to take the initiative and go to the hospital to see her.

Through the door, I could see she was awake, but I kept my distance. There was so much to tell her, but it seemed there would never be enough time. I noticed as I got closer that Ricky wasn't there, and that was a little unsettling. I was used to him disappearing to protect me, but I thought for sure that he would be here now that it seemed as if the worst of it all was over. I could only hear the sounds of the heart monitor and Persephone's soft breathing, and it seemed soothing enough, but outside of the door to her room felt uncomfortable, and being inside of it didn't make me feel any different. I was in limbo; between her and I was a blanket of space larger than the three feet from the door where I stood. I knew I had made a mistake and I turned to leave.

"It's okay, Michael. I promise not to bite too hard."

"How are you feeling?"

"Well, you know that feeling like you've been hit in the chest, and no matter how hard you try, you can't escape the pain of never saying what you want to say when someone says all of the right things?"

"Is this about the gunshot, or the baby?"

"I was raped, and that baby was the result. I didn't know I was pregnant until right before I rescued you from Evan. I was in the hospital for a psyche evaluation when I met you, but I had been cleared to leave. I stayed for my safety, and you saved me."

"And now I'm guessing this isn't about the gunshot."

"I love you, Michael Grey, and I have for a while now. I've just been afraid to tell you because things have been hectic, but you've always stayed and stayed strong."

"It's because I love you, too. I wasn't afraid to say it, I was just waiting for the right time."

"And that's why I didn't want you to come here, but today seemed fitting, and I hoped you'd show."

"Where's Ricky? Mystery left, and...well I think I know the answer now."

"Ricky knew it was time for a new beginning. He's planning to go back to school and do something with his life. Mystery was his out, just like you were mine."

"So what happens now?"

"I'm getting out of this hospital, and you're going to take me to a nice restaurant, and then you're going to get me flowers and a nice gift, and, of course, I'll pay for all of it as a pledge of my love. You don't need to impress me, and I don't need to expect perfection, but nobody has ever really taken me out."

"I feel like we deserve each other, like we were meant for each other."

"Sometimes, even through the worst parts of life, you find a shining light, one that never stops glowing, one that lights the darkness and saves your soul."

We did go out and celebrate Valentine's Day in a great way. I picked the restaurant and we laughed over burgers and fries and afterwards, we went to a late night florist and I picked out a dozen roses that smelled amazing and when we went to the mall, I made her a stuffed penguin at one of the stores and inside, right before it was sewed shut, I placed a heart that said 'I love you'.

I thought that our adventures were over until she pulled into the parking lot of a huge pawn shop. She told me to find a new guitar, since mine got lost, and that would be my present, and that cost wasn't a factor.

I found an Ovation acoustic with an interesting body style, three little holes at the top versus one big sound hole, and a rounded back instead of a flat one. I loved it the first time I saw it and Persephone shelled out $400 for it. I kissed her and told her that this was the best Valentine's Day I've ever had, and she agreed. She told me that she'd never spent it with anyone she truly cares about, and that she she was happy to spend it with someone as amazing as me. It hit me that I told the paramedic Persephone was my girlfriend, but I guess it was never really true until today.

"Don't just play for me, though. Sing your story to the world. I believe in you and your ability to follow your dreams."

"Don't say you believe in me unless you can convince yourself I'm someone you can believe in."

"After what we've been through, I don't need any more convincing."

We had the place all to ourselves. Persephone paid the rent out until May and after that, we decided to finally head out to Missoula to live in peace and solitude. That gave us a few months to finish the business of our business. Evan was still out there and with no word from him for more than six months, the cops gave up. His face is plastered all over the Most Wanted list, but not in town. The people here may have forgotten his face, and that's just what he wants. To be able to hide in plain sight.

Ever since I've been in a stable environment, I've been taking my meds regularly and seeing a psychiatrist once a month, and a counselor twice a week. Turns out I had a lot going on, and the restlessness of my mind was the reason I kept seeing Nicky. I was always so used to talking to him about anything and the denial I still carried that he was gone manifested into organized conversations, when really it was my own conscience helping me work through my problems. I've had no sign of him for a while, even before we all came to Butte, and my counselor says that I must've made peace with his death and cleared up my head. I didn't feel so alone anymore, although Persephone was my only friend, but as I was talking with my psychiatrist, she told me that if I only have one true wholehearted friend, then Persephone is all I need. We've been through so much in a relatively short amount of time, which tells me that if she was going to go anywhere, she would've gone already.

We lay in bed holding each other after making love for the first time, and she was sleeping softly on my chest. My mind was clear, and instead of twenty different things, it was on only two: Persephone, and our relationship, our happiness, and what we were going to do about Evan. How are we supposed to draw out a crazed maniac and turn him in?

I woke up the next morning to breakfast, and as I walked into the kitchen, I saw first that Persephone was only wearing an apron. She had a cute butt and I pinched it as I put my arm around her and kissed her neck.

"Aren't you a little underdressed for cooking?"

"Aren't you a little overdressed for eating?"

Persephone had a comeback for everything, and it was one of the most attractive things about her.

The next day, when I got to work, I was told by the head housekeeper that someone dropped off a letter and a package for me the night before. I waited until she left to open the letter. It was signed 'Nicky Grey' and the handwriting was shockingly similar to his.

'Michael, if you're reading this, I bet you're surprised. You probably have moved on from my death and forgot about me, but I need to open this can of worms one more time. I trust now you know about Evan, and the only reason this is in your hands is because you've found your own trouble with my problems. I instructed a very secure, yet unknown person to hand deliver this either to you or to your place of work because what's inside of this package will be able to help you. This is my official final goodbye. I love you and I hope you use this information wisely.

PS if you are at work, wait until you're home to open the package.

Nicky Grey'

I couldn't wait to get home and show Persephone. We needed something to draw out Evan and a package prepared by Nicky a year and a half ago could've been just what we needed. If there was a chance that this was another letdown, well we wouldn't be in any better of a position. If there's a chance to nab Evan, though, a chance for all of this to end, we need to take it. I'm so sick of living like this, and I'm so ready to move on.

Persephone was very interested in the package, and she seemed surprised. Not in the same way that I was, however, but more in the way that whatever was in there could end everything. Her look of surprise was almost a sigh of relief.

"Don't get your hopes up too high, Persephone. This could easily be a trap."

"But that is Nicky's handwriting right?"

"It's eerily similar, that's for sure."

"Well, let's get to it."

The package was wrapped in a brown paper, common for shipping, but there was no shipping information. This was hand delivered by an unknown person. Whoever the person was must've been a loyal friend of Nicky's, loyal enough to travel across the country just to carry out a simple task. Persephone began to rip through the tape and paper and soon, all that remained was a cardboard box. I found the opening and ripped the tape off, then pulled the lid back. We peered inside and found a smaller wooden box about half the size of the cardboard casing. I knew instantly that Ricky had made this box as well. I pulled it out to get a better look and found another puzzle, probably put in place to keep someone from getting into it. It was a combination lock built into the front of the box and there was a visible clasp that I guessed would release with the proper combo. There was no sign of the numbers to open the lock, and I knew I would have to figure it out myself. Even Persephone couldn't know what code he may have chosen.

My mind was constantly on the lock no matter what I was doing. The next day at work, I kept going off task and messing up, dropping things, breaking things. Then after I came home, I felt at one point like I'd been neglecting Persephone. My head was also beginning to ache and I did my best to tell myself to not think about it anymore. It was literally driving me insane to not be able to figure this out. No matter how much I thought, my mind seemed to draw nothing but blanks.

And then it hit me a few nights later as I was laying in bed. Five numbers on the lock, and five just popped into my head. One thing that Nicky and I had in common was a birthday, and it's the one number I was sure he would know I would figure out. March 18th, 1991, or 31891.

"Persephone, wake up, I've figured it out."

"Michael, just go back to sleep. I'm sick of your conspiracies on this damn box. Can't you just accept that it's just someone's sick joke? Maybe Evan sent it and has similar handwriting to Nicky's, and when you finally pry it open, it just explodes and you die? Have you ever thought of that?"

"It was Nicky's handwriting, and now it's open."

"What?" Persephone turned the light on so we could see better.

"It's a VHS tape, Michael, who has a VHS player anymore? It's 2011."

"Cops do, for surveillance review. This was meant to go straight to the police."

"Then let's take it tomorrow. You have the day off, we can sleep in, and then we'll handle it."

I picked the tape up and looked at it. It's been a while since I've help one, and I almost forgot how light they were. But something was nagging me. If this truly was Nicky's work, where was the pizzazz? Where was the secret message or hidden compartment? I had a hard time believing that all there was was some fancy craftsmanship and an old VSH tape locked up behind a near-impossible-to-guess combination. Nicky never did things this easy. I picked up the box and threw it, and part of my mind feared that I had hit a new level of insane. Persephone awoke with a start after falling asleep with the main light on.

"What the hell, Michael! What are you doing?"

"This isn't Nicky! There has to be something more!"

"You're delusional, babe! You miss him so much, it's no wonder you want more!"

"I'm sorry", I said, instantly calm, "I just got my hopes up."

I walked over to the shattered fragments of the box to clean up the mess and lying in the rubble were a couple of photographs and three keys, all on one ring. They each had a number written on them corresponding to the numbers for our birthday.

"Persephone...look."

"Michael, you were right!" She didn't know if she should feel relieved or worried. "What are the pictures?"

"Well one is an old picture from Nicky's MySpace with his insanely long hair. The other is a picture of that game show with the wheel, but the puzzle isn't completed."

"And I'm assuming no indication of what the keys are for?"

Oh there's an indication alright. These pictures are part of the equation somehow. Look at the puzzle. Someone used a marker to change a few letters, and to black others out."

"And the old MySpace profile?"

"Not sure on that one yet. I'll need further examination."

"Well I'm going back to bed, now. Let's start with going to the police station tomorrow. Then we can see if we'll get any hidden clues the cops won't catch on to."

"I don't think I can even sleep."

But I was wrong. I drifted off pretty quickly and had a dream that seemed like Nicky's spirit directly talking to me. His voice was so far away, but I still heard it loud and clear.

"When you pass on and come see me, you'll realize we weren't too far away to begin with."

I woke up and Persephone was out of bed and it was still dark. For some reason, my heart started to race.

I left the bedroom calling her name. There wasn't a single light on upstairs, even the bathroom was empty. I went downstairs hoping to see light or sign of light, and I finally found it in the form of static coming from the TV.

"Baby, why aren't you answering me? Was I kicking in my sleep again?"

At that moment, the static left the TV and in its place was some sort of home movie, and it was of the night Evan shot Eric.

"Hey, sweetie, where did you find that? Are you coming back to bed?"

"Yes, dear, as soon as you give me one good reason to not cut your throat."

That wasn't Persephone's voice, no, that chilling vocal pattern belonged to the one person who's throat I wanted to cut myself.

As I walked around the chair Evan was sitting in, I noticed the VHS player hooked up to the TV. He must've brought his own, which meant that he already knew the tape existed. Either that or he'd been watching us and saw us finally crack the code earlier. That theory might be more on point considering the fact that the keys and pictures were on the floor next to the player. I finally turned to look at Evan and to my horror, I saw not him in the chair, but a bound, gagged, and unconscious Persephone. My love had been reduced to a rag doll.

"Get out here and face me you fucking psychopath!" I reached down to start undoing the ropes around Persephone, when a surprisingly ice cold hand grabbed my shoulder.

"Please refrain from any movement that would irritate me and inadvertently end your life. I have chosen thus far to not kill you, and I think in good time we can forget this and become friends again."

"Why do you talk like you're from another century? Do you realize that every time we meet, your language degenerates another couple hundred years? Oh, Evan, you had so much potential, and now you've been reduced to a bad villain from a Shakespearean play."

"We'll call that strike one. I warned you, Michael. Don't make me hurt you." He slashed the knife he was holding through the chair, through the real leather back, through the woolen cushioning, and through the front, barely missing Persephone's head, and then brandished it at me.

"Why won't you kill me, even with all of these chances?"

"Because you remind me too much of him."

"You let him die."

"Maybe I was mistaken. Maybe I talked someone else into offing themselves."

"How can you even say that? You know what you did and confessed it to me."

"Well I'm, as they say, mad as a hatter. You should be lucky I can't quite remember why I hate you so much in the first place. You know, there's comes a time when your whole life goes into a blender and the result is a jumble of memories and emotions and eventually you can't remember where you went wrong in the first place, so then you pick one person to blame, and my person is you. Consider it a blessing that I've disciplined myself into making you off limits to blood rage."

While Evan was speaking, I started to notice movement where Persephone sat. Her shoulder seemed to be bleeding bad, but the sharp slice of the knife must've cut one her ropes also, giving her enough room to get free. I remained quiet so I could figure out what her plan was. She rose from the chair like a zombie, silently behind him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And in the oddest way, the moment came. Evan stabbed the armrest of the chair with the knife and let it go.

"See, Michael, I'm not the bad guy here. I've just been misunderstood. You get that, right?"

"No, I don't think you're misunderstood. I think you're a monster, and monsters deserve to rot in prison, or be murdered themselves."

"But what have I done that's so wrong? I haven't done anything illegal. At least nothing that anyone can prove."

"Well, all I can say is that you're going to have a hard time proving to the hospital how you're on the run from the police and your friends stabbed you in the back, and why they should stitch you up and let you go without informing the proper authorities."

"What do you mean?"

And she struck him one time in the back with the knife, a clean wound, in and out. Evan fell to the floor, convulsing and screaming, trying to find his bearings to stand up and run.

"Unlike you, Evan", said Persephone, "I don't want to see you dead. I want to see you in pain, so you can prove to yourself that you're still human, and I promise you, this is where it ends."

The sun began to peek through the curtains, and I saw the police car lights pull up to the front of the house. In secret, I dialed 911 in the middle of my conversation with Evan and I only hoped that dispatch got enough to use against him in court. I opened the door for the two officers and led them to where Evan was, now fading in and out of consciousness. One officer read Evan his rights and placed handcuffs on him, and told the other officer that he needed to get paramedics over here quick. A second pair of officers came in and started asking Persephone and I questions separately. I told them about the tape that my brother left me, but not about the keys or pictures. That was something I wanted to figure out for my own. The tape was sealed in an evidence bag, and then two ambulances pulled up outside. Persephone was losing too much blood and the paramedics did a quick dressing of her shoulder wound and strapped her down to a stretcher, so they could safely put her in the ambulance. Because of the handcuffs and back wound, the other set of paramedics strapped Evan in upside down to transport him. Naturally, I entered the ambulance Persephone was in and the doors closed, then we were off.

In the next 48 hours, Persephone went into surgery twice, and I almost lost her both times. Her shoulder was so badly cut that the tendons and nerves were damaged, and she needed a skin graft, not to mention the dozens of stitches needed to close the deep wound, but she developed an infection that almost caused the surgeons the second time to amputate her arm. She was legally dead for two minutes, but she bounced back and continued to fight, willing her heart to restart so she could come back to me. Then there was another twelve hours of observation before a nurse told me I could see her.

"Are you still here, or just getting back?"

"Where could I go when you're just lying here like this?"

"Good, I'm glad the doctors did what I asked. Michael, please sit."

I sat down knowing bad news was to follow.

"What's going on, sweetie?"

"They found advanced liver cancer when they opened me up. It's huge; the scans showed that it takes up three quarters of it. I went against treatment."

"Without talking to me? Don't you love me enough to-"

"Yes", she interrupted, "and when you love someone enough, sometimes you need to let them go. So please let me go, Michael."

"No! This isn't some stupid movie or a book with a bad ending! This is your life! You only get to live one time! Fight this with me!"

"I have fought long enough. All you need to do now is go over the video with the cops."

I had no more words, and I left. So many things I wish I could've said, wish I would've thought of to say. I passed a group of doctors pushing a bed passed me through the hallway and I wanted it to be going to Persephone's room, almost like I hoped that she lied to me.

Then I passed the surgery board for this floor. I almost missed it, but I didn't.

'P. Grey/liver transplant/Bed 423/1400'

I looked at my watch and confirmed what I already knew. It was two o' clock even. I smiled and walked to the elevator, pressed the DOWN button, and got on. The doors closed as she was being rolled by, and we locked eyes and exchanged final smiles.

'Goodbye, my love, until next time.'

The police station wasn't far from here. The hospital we were bussed to was the same hospital Persephone was admitted to after she was shot, before being moved to the hospital across from our house for physical therapy. I wasn't even sure if I could go back to that house with it being a crime scene. I needed to get the keys and pictures, and I needed my new guitar. I wasn't going to lose this one.

"So what's on this tape, to your knowledge, kid?"

"All I saw when Evan turned it on was a night from a few years ago when there was video evidence of him shooting a known drug dealer."

"Who shot the video?"

"I didn't know there was video until a few days ago."

"Well as I'm sure you know, we've watched it, and I want to know why you were there."

"My brother was partners with the guy who was shot."

"Drug partners, correct?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Calm down, Michael, you're not in trouble." The officer sat in the chair, and he must've sat on the remote, because the muted static after the video began to play. I watched the static as the officer asked me another question, but I didn't hear it. Something was coming on the screen.

"With all due respect, unmute the TV!"

The officer turned to see the face of my dead brother forming through the static, or so I thought. He unmutted the TV so we could hear the message.

"Hey, Michael, my name is Arthur Stone. In this portion of the play, I'll be playing Nicky Grey. You're about to come home and I'm going to shoot myself. Oh, wait, here we go!"

The video then showed the scene exactly as I remembered it. How was that not my brother? Wait, did I ever truly see his face?

The video jumped to the next part right before the gunshot and I saw Evan running up to Nicky in our neighborhood and telling him he had a question for him and then push him into a car, look around, get in, and drive away.

After that the video ran to static before starting the automatic rewind. I sat in silence. So much that Evan had said made sense to me now.

"I need to see Evan."

"Michael, I can't authorize that. He's locked up in the hospital."

"Either you take me, or I'll go by myself."

"Stop! Look I'm not supposed to release information, but given that this is a special case, you should know that when Persephone stabbed him, she punctured his heart and he didn't make it to the hospital before he died."

"Is this another elaborate death scheme? What, do you work for Evan too?"

"No, Michael, its true. He's dead."

"So the poor bastard had a heart after all."

I didn't really have much of a plan to go on. I just decided to find a bus stop and ride the bus until I got somewhere close to the house. It would probably be crawling with police, but hopefully someone would let me get a few things, maybe call the chief to set me up in a motel until I could figure my life out. It wasn't long until I saw a bus, and the marquee said that it went out to Rocker, which was a mile out of Butte. I asked the driver where else he would go and found out after about forty five minutes, it would get about four blocks from my house. When I finally got off the bus, it was dark.

As suspected, there were two cop cars out front, and upon getting to the door and asking what they were doing, I found out they were just there for security. But they knew who I was and did let me go inside and get some things.

The scene I came to in the living room was pure horror, and there was more blood than I remembered. The first thing I did was snatch up the pictures and keys and pocket them, and then I went upstairs to my room. I had a duffel bag with shoulder straps that held a lot, and I shoved every single piece of anything I owned into it. There was still room inside; I guess I thought I had more stuff. The last thing I grabbed was my new guitar, a gift from Persephone that I swore to myself I would never leave behind. I didn't care if I had to carry it, it was precious to me, like my very own worldly possession. I did see the stuffed penguin I made for Persephone, but decided against taking it. She loved that penguin.

Then I noticed a nearly full pack of cigarettes and Persephone's favorite lighter. 'What the hell', I figured, 'might as well have one or two.'

The chief of police did put me up in a nice motel and when I got there I set everything down and flipped on the bed. It had been a very long day.

I slept through the night and was woken up by the knocking of the housekeeper. I must've forgotten to put out the 'do not disturb' sign and let her know I didn't need service. Instead of laying back down, I decided I felt fully awake, took a shower and my meds and got dressed. While going through my stuff, I found a bra, which I must've grabbed by mistake. Another piece of memorabilia from Persephone, right next to the lighter. Then I reached into the jeans I had been wearing to extract any cash or whatever, and pulled out the pictures and keys. Alright, Nicky, what are you trying to tell me. First I looked at the game show shot.

'S_FT__Y DE___IT _OX'

That's what the puzzle read after the blacked out and changed words. It still had me stumped, so I looked at the other photo. I found it funny to myself that even when people are gone, pictures will hold memories for an infinite amount of time, and now I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that he's probably still alive. Nicky's long hair and sunglasses were supposed to look tough, but really, he was still the innocent teenager I remember. The photo was so close up that I could almost see some sort of writing in the reflection of the sunglasses. I flipped on the lamp in the room and examined it really close. Finally, I figured it out.

"BB&T St. Paul's, NC. So how do these two pictures fit together with the keys?"

I looked at the other picture again and after a short amount of time thinking hard, it hit me. The words spelled 'SAFETY DEPOSIT BOX'.

"Well boys, looks like I'm coming home", I said out loud.

"You're not going alone, bro."

And now Ricky makes his triumphant return.

Part 6: Ink And Blood

As Ricky and I walked through the halls of my old high school, I could see visible memories with all of the things I knew I once touched; I could remember everything as if it was playing out in front of my eyes all over again. We passed by ole Mr. Walters' class where I first met Evan in ninth grade as he was delivering an amazing speech in history, and right after that was the doorway where I first kissed Mystery in tenth grade. I saw the locker I purposely slammed Nicky's hair in during our junior year to make him late for biology, and then we came to the gym where Keith and I were almost expelled for pulling the fire alarm after covering the floor with liquid soap as a senior prank.

"I have half a mind to kick you hooligans out of here, but Michael, you have an amazing future ahead of you. Besides, I don't think the seniors have ever been so clean."

Ricky had held information from me, though, and I had no idea why we were even here. He said it was surprise, but the last thing I needed was another surprise, even if I was promised I'd like this one. And why were the halls empty the first week of March in the middle of the day?

Oh, of course.

"And here is our next guest, Michael Grey! Some of you may remember him from the senior class of 2009, and others may remember him from the news, but regardless, since it's Hero Day at SPHS, we've asked him here as an every day hero, one without a badge, and only one step away from donning a mask and cape! Everyone, give a big round of applause!"

I turned to Ricky.

"What the hell is this?"

"Your moment, so you can inspire the youth."

"I don't want to inspire anyone, dude, just let me leave."

"Michael, please do this, please. That principal dude has been asking me for a week since you came back."

"What am I supposed to say?"

"You've got one hell of a story to tell. Pick a place to start and talk."

I approached the podium cautiously, trying hard to figure out where to begin.

"Stay in school and don't do drugs", I started, "don't kill yourself when life gets hard, and don't run away from your problems. Running only gets you further away from the root of the issue, but if you decide to run, make sure you make the most of your life of cowardice, because sometimes, as I found out, running away only brings you closer to the truth. Sometimes, what you find is what you were looking for all along."

I think I talked for twenty minutes, and the moment I finished, I was met with a massive amount of applause. It was a rush for me, to tell the story from beginning to end, yet I knew it hadn't quite ended for me just yet. A few of my old teachers thanked me and a few of the students said I had an 'eye opening story' and that 'I was a great motivational speaker'.

But I wasn't. I was a kid with a story, just like all of them.

I thought about Persephone before getting home to Ricky's place, which was in my hometown of Parkton, but when he opened the door, I was blindsided by a yell of 'Surprise!' Ricky organized an official coming home party for me and there were so many familiar faces, and my smile was enormous. I don't think I've smiled like that in a long time.

Mystery was there, as she always is. Her and Ricky had been dating since they decided to come home. She was also living with Ricky, so her I expected, but so many old friends also made it, and I was so thrilled to see them all again. Jon and Keith said 'Hi' first and I gave each of them a hug. Keith offered me a drink, but I politely declined, letting him know I was in recovery. He congratulated me and then I was greeted by Robby and Terrance, my old friends from college. Terrance, after catching up a little, put his arm around me and pointed.

"Someone special is here tonight, and she came specifically to see you."

And like a rekindled flame, she appeared again in my life. It seems like there were now years between us, and in a way, I guess there were.

"Katie, you look...wow."

Her hair was short and dyed neon blue, but that was all that had changed since I last saw her. I think she was wearing the same plaid shirt she had on the first time I saw her. She ran up and hugged me hard, and tears began to streak down her face.

"Michael, oh, it's been a long time."

"How are you now, since the coma and everything."

"The coma was nothing compared to what you've been through. When I heard what had been happening, well, I was so scared."

"No reason to be scared. What happened was hard, but I was strong enough to get through."

"I guess we have a lot to talk about then", she said, with a sadness in her voice.

I found it hard to talk with Katie about everything and to accurately describe the fear and emotional pain I felt. She kept referring to her own life and comparing her coma to jail, drugs, and blood. At least she got to sleep through the hardest part of her life. I watched people die, and I witnessed the people I love in critical condition, holding on to the one moment in their memory that brought them true undeniable bliss. Yes, Katie, being in a coma is a lot like fighting a war.

"Okay, stop talking, I've had enough."

"What?"

"Look, we've grown up, and we've gone down separate paths. I thought I could talk to you and confide my emotions in you, but all you care about is yourself. You can't compare a car accident and a few months of sleep to facing fear and death at the hands of someone you used to call a friend. So stop talking, please."

"Wow, Michael, I guess people do change. It wasn't really that long ago that you were stalking me at school", she said, as I began to notice the party go quiet, and people were staring, "so don't act like we can't work on our friendship just because of some lost time and a few misunderstandings. Go to hell, and when you get there, tell the real Michael Grey I want him back."

I felt low, and both Ricky and Darius, who I hadn't seen until now, came over to me, but I wasn't done with Katie just yet.

"Don't you think I loved you?" My voice was raised and I was shaking. "Don't you think when I found out you were in a coma, I prepared myself for the worst?" Katie stopped and looked back at me. "Don't you think I hated myself for our last conversation to be full of silence and ending with a breakup I only initiated because I was depressed and didn't want to drag you along? I read the book, and I read your note, and all I could think about was how special I was to you, and how I threw you away because I wasn't emotionally available. I told myself that if they had to pull the plug on you, I would prepare myself for losing the first person I ever truly loved, without getting a chance to apologize for hurting you. So I'm sorry, okay? I found myself in hell, but I came back out, so I'm sorry."

I was in tears, shaking and angry, shivering and sad. I expected her to come over and slap me, or scream at me, but she only walked over, sat on my lap, and kissed me, deep, just like I remembered. Vanilla pudding.

"Don't lose me again, Michael. Don't walk away from us."

At some point, the party started back up again, but I didn't care. My conversation with Katie took a turn, and we talked about everything, opening up our deepest scars and before I knew it, it was 4 am and a lot of people had left the party, and the others that lingered were either sleeping or talking softly. Eventually, Katie fell asleep in my arms, and finally, I drifted off.

"Okay, these are the pictures", I said the next day, showing Ricky and Katie. I told them what I saw and might've figured out about the keys.

"I haven't been to St. Pauls in a while", stated Katie, "but I heard that they've been shutting that chain of banks all across the east coast."

"Ricky, do you know where it is?" I asked.

"No, but it's St. Pauls, I mean, how hard could it be to find?" He seemed confident.

"So let's go, today. I can't wait any longer to find out the truth about Nicky."

"Aren't you even a little bit scare to figure this out", asked Katie.

"Of course I am, but I need to know. If what I saw on that video really was a scam, then I'll let it be, but if there's a chance that he's alive, I need to take it. I can't explain to you well enough how bad I need that closure."

"Just don't get your hopes up, okay?"

"I promise, as long as you guys stand beside me no matter what."

"I'm coming, too", decided Mystery, who hadn't been in the room until now, "we all have history together now, and Nicky is a part of all of us. It's only fitting that we stick together."

"I'll drive", finished Ricky, and we were out the door.

From Parkton to St. Pauls, it's about a twenty minute drive, and I spent every minute of it in thoughtful silence, and I smoked three cigarettes. They were from the pack I took from my old room, along with Persephone's lighter, and I hadn't touched them since coming back home. I was stressed to the max in anticipation of what I might find, and as we pulled into town, I counted how cigarettes were left, and there were nine. There was no significance of the number to me, except that I told myself the last one, which was flipped upside down, would be important. The fabled lucky cigarette, the final hurrah.

"Uh, Michael, we have a problem."

Ricky pointed out the BB&T, but it was shut down, boarded up, and littered with 'No Trespassing' signs. But I saw no real problem.

"In and out, nobody even needs to know."

"But, dude, its broad daylight, and they might have, you know, security or something", worried Ricky.

"Seriously, Michael", said Katie, "we could get into a lot of trouble, and it could be dangerous."

"So what? All of you are just out then? What happened to being a family? Nicky is my family!"

But it was Mystery that grabbed my hand.

"Michael, you will never let yourself rest until you do this, so let's go."

Ricky drove around to the back of the abandoned bank. It began to occur to me that the safety deposit boxes could be gone. Maybe someone took them to another bank, or were emptied and left to rust. I didn't dare tell them what I was thinking though, it was hard enough to get them to agree to go in.

We didn't prepare for the abandonment, although we should've after Katie's comment. It turned out that Ricky had one flashlight in his car, which would be okay, but until we went to the boarded up back door, we had no idea what to expect as far as getting inside. I decided to go alone to see what we would need, but as I approached door, I found it slightly ajar, and an uneasy feeling settled into my stomach. Still, I waved everyone over, knowing this could go bad. I was taken over by selfishness and fueled by the kind of pride that made me want to tell everyone I told them so when I was staring Nicky in the face.

Wait, when I see him again, what would I even do? What would I say?

As Ricky got closer, with Katie and Mystery in tow, he saw what I saw and hesitated to move forward any further, yet he came up to me and put his arm around me.

"Bro, we can't do this now. What if there's a security guard or a drifter in there? It's dangerous."

"Or what if it's already been broken into and nobody is in there and you're worrying for nothing?"

"Don't be an idiot. This is not a good idea."

"And throwing me into Evan's car with him driving me to the world's biggest meth lab was a good idea? Ricky, if I don't do this it'll eat me up inside never knowing. Nicky is alive, I can feel it. He wouldn't have left all these clues for nothing. I don't expect you to understand, but please, be here for me, right now."

"Okay. I'm sorry, it's just...if things go bad in there, we're leaving. I mean it, Michael, promise me."

I shook his hand and hugged him.

"I promise. Katie, Mystery, come here. This might be more than I anticipated, so I would like you two to sit in the car and keep watch. Call me on my cell phone at the first sign of trouble and take the car somewhere we can meet you later."

Katie hugged me and kissed my cheek. Mystery did the same for Ricky.

"Be safe, come back in one piece."

"Thanks for being supportive. It means a lot."

Ricky and I approached the door cautiously, and I eased it open enough for us to sneak through. Inside was dark, but there were ribbons of light breaking through the slits of wood on the windows, and through parts of the rotting roof. A flashlight was a good idea, but the beam was dull, as if the battery was dying. Not a good sign.

The old teller's desks were pushed askew in different ways, and the remains of broken lamps and various office supplies littered the floor. Plant life had began to peek through cracked tile, and the tile itself was being taken over by slick mud. This place had been closed for a while.

We made our way further back behind the desks toward where the huge iron door sealing up the vault was. To the left were the boxes we were looking for, on a wall by themselves.

"There, Ricky, go find Box 3."

He ran to find it as I tried to find 14, but both of us found the same bad news. The locks were bored out and the boxes were empty. We then hoped to find luck with Box 91, but it wasn't there.

"They stop at 80," said Ricky. This can't be happening. All of this for nothing.

"Are there any more around?"

"Nah, that other wall is for storing papers and stuff."

"Are we missing something?" I tried to analyze the floor plan of the bank, but the fact was, we'd already seen everything. It was a relatively small bank.

"Michael, we should go before someone shows up."

"Yeah, that's the rational thing to do."

I followed Ricky toward the door, wracking my brain for another answer. It was then by fate, and for a lack of paying attention that I jammed my right knee into what was possibly the hardest part of the desk. I cursed and grabbed my knee, and as I looked up, I saw that the desk had a number engraved into it. Number 8.

"Ricky! There are numbers on these desks!"

"I know I just saw! This one is 16!"

There was no way there were 91 desks, but it was a start, and after a minute or so of searching, I found Number 3. I began to throw open drawers, and my heart might've skipped a beat when I pulled at the top drawer and it didn't budge. To add to the excitement I felt, there was a keyhole. As if all time and space had stopped, I slowly pulled the key out of my pocket, found Number 3, and inserted it into the lock.

Perfect fit.

The lock turned smoothly as I twisted the key, and at the sound of an audible click, I pulled the drawer open, but I saw nothing. The drawer was empty.

"Hey, wait man, don't get down on yourself. Persephone's family were all bankers, remember? She told me the important stuff is stored in a false bottom."

Ricky pushed on the back of the bottom, and the front came right up. Inside were two things, and neither of them came from Nicky, I was sure. One was another picture, and I saw no relevance, but the other was a paper that had two numbers followed by four blank spots.

"What does this look like to you, Ricky?"

"It looks like the first part of a combination."

"Yeah, but for what?"

And we both looked at the vault, then back at each other.

"Find Number 18", said Ricky, surprising me with his newly elevated interest.

Soon it was found, and the locked drawer was opened, and it was the same deal, a picture and another piece of the combination. The people who used to sit at these desks must've been important enough to be given this information.

"So what now? Where would the last key fit?"

"What's on those pictures?" Ricky really seemed sincere about helping me at this point.

"The last numbers are, I'm sure, we just need to find them. Here, shine the light on them."

As I looked at the pictures, I realized these were both of familiar faces. Nicky must've left them somehow. The first was of Persephone, maybe from a couple of years ago, and the second was of her dad shaking hands with another man. Although I never met her dad, I saw plenty of pictures of him at the estate in Glasgow. He was a banker, so I'm sure he knew bankers all over the country. Kind of a coincidental place to find these pictures though, unless-

"Persephone's dad owned this bank, didn't he?"

"Her whole family owned a couple of chains, and this could be one of them."

"She told me she was the new heir, and with her parents gone, do you think that's why they closed all of them? Persephone isn't going to take over them."

"Man, no wonder she's always so sad looking. That's depressing, to see a fortune fall. So what are the pictures saying?"

I examined the one of Persephone and searched for a number or a sign of something that looked relevant, but all I could see was Persephone giving a peace sign in the sun.

Oh, that must be it! A peace sign is made with two fingers, so maybe the first number is 2!

Now for the second picture. That one was a bit easier. The billboard behind the two men was falling apart, but the 9 from and area code and phone number was visible.

"Okay, Ricky are you ready to try this thing?"

"I was born ready."

My nerves were shot as we approached the vault. It was old, like the rest of this town and Ricky and stared at it as if it were some long lost treasure. In a way, it was.

My fingers found the lock, and with the help of Ricky's dull light, I anxiously turned the dial right three times, left two, and right again once to land on the final number, then pulled the lever to open the door. No budge.

"Wait, Michael, before you try it again, let's think. Even if this place is abandoned, there could still be some sort of alarm."

Even though I hated to admit it, he was right. Besides, one combination lock seemed a little too easy. There had to be something more that we had overlooked.

Or maybe it was just time to admit defeat and go home. Maybe this was Nicky's entire legacy, just another dead end.

"There's another lock over here! What's that combination?"

I practically ran to Ricky and hastily turned the lock until the door clicked, and it hadn't clicked with the other lock. Once back at the lever, I was ready to pull it when I saw a keyhole, and after pulling the key ring out of my pocket, I found Key 91 and attempted to insert it, but it didn't fit.

"Ricky, let me get some light so I can look at this thing."

"What do you see?" He asked after shining the light down

"Well it's weird, it's not a keyhole at all, just an ovular indention in the metal."

"Maybe it's nothing?"

"No, it definitely turns. It almost looks like a-"

And as I let my thoughts run free, I remembered Persephone's favorite lighter, and I pulled it out. The lighter was refillable, and I always thought it was cool the way the bottom hooked out in three different ways, and the hooks matched the hole on the door perfectly. I guess it was a good thing I took it. Maybe Persephone left it out on purpose.

The lighter also made it more apparent that this bank was tied to her family name. Another connection.

I placed the end of the lighter into the keyhole and turned it smoothly clockwise, and there were many clicks on the inside of the door. At long last, I pulled the lever and the door opened with a controlled heaviness, knowing it could detach from its rusted hinges and crush us, but it chose not to.

Ricky entered first with his light and waved it around, finding the next set of safety deposit boxes. 91 was easy to find and I don't think I could've put the key in any faster.

"Here we go."

I turned the key and the face of the box popped open, and I pulled it out. After removing the top, I found an old flip phone, along with a charging cord, and also, a note, but it was from a banker, not Nicky.

'Attempted multiple times to contact box holder with no response. Sum of money to be transferred to brother's account at First Bank. Other items remain."

Another sum of money? I feel like I'm on one of the most interesting adventures anyone has ever been on. I'm starting to think Nicky is living life as a pirate.

"Alright, Ricky, let's get this stuff and get out of here."

"You kids aren't going anywhere. You're in a lot of trouble."

Oh joy, the cops, once again. Thanks for the call, Katie.

"Look", yelled Ricky, "I'll be honest and say this is exactly what it looks like, but I'll have you know, my friend needed to do this for his own sanity, so if we need to go downtown, so be it, but I want a lawyer."

"Is that a confession, then?"

I think Ricky and I settled in to the same level of shock.

"A confession for breaking and entering and violating trespassing laws? You caught us, so isn't that confession enough?"

"No, for hiding out after committing murder."

"Of...who?" I barely even said that, considering the amount of stress my body was trying to sort through.

"Come with me."

Ricky and I followed the officer outside, while other officers went to to bag up the phone as evidence. He led us toward a line of police tape that was now beginning to circle Ricky's car. This did not look very good.

"Somebody called 911 with a report of a girl screaming in a car out behind the old BB&T, and when we get there, we find one Mystery Trent with her throat cut and you and your friend inside the bank vault."

I was having a hard time sorting through emotions sitting in this interrogation room. I couldn't imagine how Ricky must be feeling.

"Your friend says that you and him had some kind of mission or something, and that you left Mystery and another girl in the car."

"Yes. That's the truth."

"And I have no reason to not believe it. So, who do you think killed Mystery?"

"Katie was the only other one there, but she couldn't have done it."

"And why not?"

"Because she's not a killer!"

"Well we have no other suspects right now, so unless you or your friend start talking, you're going to be here for a while."

"Then let's talk. I'll tell you everything from my end, and I'll guarantee it matches Ricky's story to a T."

Turns out, I was right, and within an hour, we were free to go. We were asked to stay in town, so we were going to be put up in a motel, but I had friends here, and I called up Lefty. He earned his nickname in eighth grade for winning the science fair by training his own brain to do anything left handed that he could with his right, and since he was born right hand dominant, it was a real challenge. Now he even writes better with his left, and has continued his research in science since high school.

"Hey, Michael, and you must be Ricky", Lefty greeted us, politely shaking our hands, "please come in, but I ask that you remove your shoes and/or socks to prevent contamination of my equipment."

"Who is this guy?" Ricky seemed a little off put.

"Don't worry, he's cool. He's one hell of a cook, too. Besides, I think he can help us with the phone."

"Well, I've had a pretty messed up day, and I'm not feeling very friendly, so maybe I can just go lay down before Einstein over there drives me to run into oncoming traffic."

"Fair enough, I'll have Lefty show you where you're going to sleep."

Once Ricky was tucked away and napping, I asked Lefty to sit down with me so we could figure out what the phone could mean.

"Is it coded, Michael? What I mean is, are we looking for a hidden message on the hard drive, or would you need me to open the memory and recover once deleted data?"

"It's a flip phone, I don't think there's much to it. First I need to plug it into the charger and see if it turns on."

"Then what is it that you need me for?"

"I guess I'll know once I turn it on."

With the phone being older, I found that I needed to be charged a little bit more before I could even turn it on. I hated the anticipation, but I hoped it would be worth it in the end.

Finally, after what seemed like a year and a half, the front screen glowed to life, and I flipped the phone open the moment I picked it up.

No calls of any kind, incoming our outgoing. One incoming text that was never opened, and there were no other texts. No photos, no ringtones, a completely blank phone, so I decided to start by reading the text.

'R u meetng me or is ur guy comng cuz I hav 2 b in MT nxt week.'

Who sent that? After a second of looking at the screen, I found it came from somebody saved as Bro. I didn't think to check the contacts menu, so clicked a few buttons to get to the screen. The text was sent a few years ago, so I didn't expect anyone to answer if I called, but it made me wonder who Bro was and why he had to be in Montana. I was Nicky's only brother, but I hadn't sent him that. Looking at the contacts menu, though, made my heart start racing, faster than I believe it ever had, even in high stress situations. There were two saved contacts: Bro and MCallMe.

MCallMe, as in 'Michael Call Me'?

If this really was Nicky's phone at one point, who else could it be?

So I took the leap of faith and pressed the green Call button. It rang about five times and went to a voicemail, so I decided to listen in.

'Michael, if you're hearing this, then you figured out all of my clues. Yes, I am alive, and I've been hiding out under the radar, but I managed to get all of these around Evan and his guys, behind their backs. The last clue is the address where I am, but I won't make you figure anything out. Look on the battery of this phone and you'll find it. Oh, and one more thing, if you see Lefty, don't tell him anything. He works for Evan. Love you, man, come get me."

More mixed emotions. I glanced up at Lefty to find him busy with cooking dinner, and I tried to play it cool and just slid the phone into my pocket. Suddenly I became aware of the situation we were in. There were around a dozen various medieval-looking swords and knives, as well as a single set of clothes drying on a makeshift clothesline. I could definitely see the faint stain of blood on the shirt. Could he be the one who killed Mystery? Was coming here a mistake?

"I'm going to check on Ricky."

"He's fine, Michael, you need not worry. Come, please sample the soup. I promise you that it is the best you've ever tasted."

"Is arsenic the secret ingredient?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"How long were you going to keep us here before you killed us off? Are you just that driven to complete your boss' work that you'll turn on old friends?"

"Michael, I believe you are mistaken. Those days are behind me. How you found out in the first place is beyond me."

"There isn't one single person I can trust, is there?"

"Well I guess not. You've convinced yourself that everyone is out to get you, and now you are turning on me."

"Where is Katie? What have you done with her?"

And then his eyes shifted into something sinister.

"She became the soup."

There it was. The perfect statement that would make any horror movie twist in direction, one that would make the stomach churn and the blood freeze.

But I wasn't buying it.

"Lefty, I think the drugs are starting to call to you, and now that Evan's dead, your supply was cut off. Let's try and think rationally."

"Oh, I believe I'm thinking quite clearly. So please, taste the soup."

Ricky silently emerged from the bedroom, wielding a baseball bat and a wicked smile.

"Okay, I'll taste it, but on one condition."

Ricky silently inched forward.

"And what is it?"

"Answer me a question. Do you like sports?"

Ricky was so close now.

"Of course, even a superior mind such as mine has been known to enjoy a baseball game or two."

Ricky hit home plate and prepared to bat.

"Good, because something has been troubling me", I said as I placed my hand on the handle of the soup pot, "when a batter hits a ball so hard it leaves the park, what is that called?"

"Oh, I don't know. Is this some sort of joke? It's called a home run, correct?"

"Correct. Batter up."

At the moment I lifted the pot and splashed the boiling liquid in Lefty's face, Ricky swung the bat at his knee, knowing he couldn't damage his head too bad. He needed to live to see through being arrested and doing prison time. Ricky and I must've somehow become a duo nobody should mess with, and after all we'd been through so far, I was ready to retire from fighting crime.

Lefty screamed in agony, and I noticed the burner on the stove begin to flare up. I was not about to let him die and see no justice for Mystery. Well, let's face it, I wasn't comfortable with losing the evidence and perpetrator responsible for the murder of my first love, and then get blamed for yet another thing.

I saw a fire extinguisher on the wall and would've pulled the pin, if it hadn't already been pulled. The damn thing was empty. I decided to cut the gas flow and turn the knob on the stove off, but as I did, it flared to the ceiling.

"What do we do, Ricky?"

"We get out of here!"

"I'm not letting him die! I won't let him get away with what he did!"

"You have to, Michael! You need to take care of yourself now!"

The flames began to take over and spread through the house. Finally, I made what I hoped would be a sensible choice. Lefty, who hadn't moved in a few minutes, but was still breathing, was lying near the stove. I thrust my hand into both pockets, but discovered no cell phone.

"Ricky, does he have a landline?"

"Yeah, over here in this base!"

"Turn on speaker and dial 911! Then let's go!"

As Ricky dialed, I pulled the bloodstained shirt off of the clothesline and picked up one of the medieval daggers that clearly hadn't been wiped clean of blood. Then Ricky and I took off through the back door of the house and didn't stop running until we reached, well, the high school. The neighborhood Lefty lived in was close to it, I knew, but I wasn't sure how close until now.

School was just letting out, and the busses were loading with students, and teachers were chatting outside, and here Ricky and I are, clearly covered in the smell of smoke, the same smoke that was visibly rising only a few blocks down. Suddenly, the siren roared over the town, and the smaller sirens of fire trucks and cops started up. At least this time, I wanted to be caught. I wanted to get justice for Mystery.

First I had to deal with the bloody dagger I was now holding and the gasping, frozen-in-place staff and students looking at me like I was already a 'Wanted' man.

"What's your plan, Michael?"

"We wait. The cops will find us. This plan can't go wrong."

Six hours later, after four cups of coffee and a lot of patience, the DNA and fingerprints came back from the lab confirming that Lefty did kill Mystery. No motive was known, and it wasn't premeditated. He just got a phone call on his landline that lasted 24 seconds 10 minutes before Mystery's determined time of death. The unsettling part was that the call came from a number both Ricky and I recognized, but didn't understand the reasoning. The number belonged to Katie.

After another couple of hours, Ricky and I were free to go, again, but this time taking the police chief's motel offer. He was even kind enough to buy us shoes since ours burned up in the fire. It sucked that home was only twenty minutes away, and once again, because I have a bold idea and a new clue to find my brother, we were stranded. Just as I made a point to feel sorry for myself, my cell phone rang, and I answered it to hear Persephone's beautiful, angelic voice.

"Hey babe, how's life in the ole NC?"

"Somewhere between paradise and hell. How's cancer?"

"Cancer's gone, at least for now. I'm out of the hospital and I want to come see you."

"Now's not really the best time. Kinda dealing with some more of Evan's leftovers."

"Well that's too bad, because I'm just getting off of the plane in Fayetteville and renting a car. Surprise!"

"Hell, if you're here, Ricky and I sure could use you. We're stuck in St. Pauls, but not by choice. I'll fill you in when you get here."

"Alright. Love you."

"It makes me so happy to hear you say that. Love you, too."

Ricky only smiled and nodded. For now, there only seemed to be one sensible thing to do.

I pulled the back of Nicky's cell phone off and removed the battery. There, written on masking tape stuck to the back of the battery was an address.

"Son of a bitch has been in St. Pauls this whole time", I said.

"Where?"

"I'd know this address anywhere. The band used to do all of its banquets there. He's at the armory."

"There's one problem with that, though."

"And that would be?"

"The armory is open to the public right now for a career fair. I saw a poster at the police station."

"So we wait until dark?"

"And break into something that is most certainly going to be alarmed?"

"Good point. Well, put on your best job seeking face; we have us a man to find."

As we approached the armory, I noticed there weren't as many cars as I expected and upon arriving at the front doors, we noticed that the fair was packing up and closing for the day. Quickly, I located a side room that I knew led to the kitchen and when we found nobody there, I told Ricky to help me find the trapdoor to the basement. Nobody had been down there in years as far as I knew. Finally, I found it underneath some boxes of food supply and my heart began racing again.

"Another damn combination", stated Ricky, "do you know this one?"

I did, and I moved the dial with a swiftness and entered the only one I knew in my heart it had to be.

3-18-91.

With the lock undone and and the trapdoor open, I lit the final lucky cigarette and hoped for the best. I climbed down alone as Ricky kept watch and found a room furnished as a living room and as I stepped down to the floor and peeked around, I did the only thing I though of to do.

I called Nicky's name.

"Michael, it's been too long. Oh, and Happy Birthday!"

I think I started crying.

Part 7: Brand New

I typed the final words and looked up from my laptop with blurred vision and a headache at the now empty library inside The University of Montana in Missoula. I had finally made it and I was a month away from graduating with a Bachelor's degree in English. I had decided that writing was what I loved, and I minored in music, because I also loved that. My final paper for one of the classes was a partial memoir; at least 30,000 words to tell a part of your life that is significant, and really, the rest of my life was boring compared to the death and new life of Nicky. I was given two weeks for the assignment, but it only took one day, and now I'm tired, but satisfied with the result.

I'm happy to say that Nicky is also graduating with a major in English, but he plans to head to law school in the fall. Our mom is coming to see us graduate. Things had been better with her since I brought Nicky home.

Only a few of us knew that Katie was the mastermind behind Mystery's death, but we'd never said anything, and she had never showed her face in our lives since. I doubted whether or not we'd ever see her again, and if my professor was wondering about her, I'd just tell him that sometimes with nonfiction, there is no true ending.

I went home to Persephone, who I'd married two years ago, and we now had a 6 month old baby named Tyler. He was the coolest kid in the world and Persephone was a good mom. She has since been called cancer free, and she had never been healthier. She found the crowed of people outside the armory and became curious, and when Ricky and I helped Nicky, who was covered with a blanket, emerge from the dark basement, Persephone helped us into her car and we drove off, all the way back to Parkton. Ricky and I were never under arrest, and maybe we shouldn't have left, but there was nothing else we could do in St. Pauls.

Ricky stayed in Parkton, but he'll be coming for graduation also. He and Mystery's mother grieved together, but after a year, he found himself a good job as a cop and has been on the force ever since. Last I heard from him, he was up for a big promotion.

"Hey, baby!" Persephone greeted me as I walked through the door.

"Hey! Mmm, smells good. What's for dinner?"

"Ask Nicky, he's cooking tonight."

"Hey, Nicky, why do you always forget you don't live here?"

"Shut up", called Nicky playfully, "you can't live without my fried chicken!"

"Yeah well, I almost had to!"

His laughter. I had missed that, and now, I can't get enough of it.

Persephone set the table and placed Tyler in his high chair.

"Why are we set for four? Is Tyler old enough for chicken?"

"Were having a guest", stated Nicky.

"It's a surprise", continued Persephone.

I still hate surprises.

Then there was a knock on the door and Persephone asked me to stay seated. I looked at Nicky with a half scowl and he grinned. I heard footsteps behind me and I turned to look. My face suddenly changed to a bigger smile than Nicky had.

"Dad?"

"Well you boys didn't get all your looks from your mom. Someone had to help." Cheesy ole dad. "I came to see my boys graduate, now that your mom lifted the battle axe of blame from my back."

"You talk to her now?" Nicky surprised me with his question.

"Here and there. Seems like we finally made a truce."

Persephone came into the room with plates full of food, and little Tyler couldn't contain his excitement when Grandpa gave him attention. Dinner was filled to the brim with laughter, and though Dad wanted to know the story behind Nicky and the adventure, I felt that a couple of key points were too somber to repeat tonight. They couldn't stay hidden forever, however.

Persephone slept good throughout the night, but I was stricken with insomnia. Whenever Tyler cried, I got up to see what he needed, and wound up on the couch. It's funny how a five year gap between your old life and new life can be all but forgotten until one small thing brings it all back up. How would I ever explain any of this to my Dad? Even if I censored certain parts of the story, it was still pretty unbelievable. I even had a feeling that my English professor would read the paper and think I made it all up. I could counter that with citations containing the information from newspapers and Internet articles, but why bother? Until that paper came up, I had put this behind me. Katie was still out there somewhere, and I felt uneasy thinking about it. I hate this so much, and I just want it to go away.

I finally got to sleep around 5 AM and was supposed to see my counselor at ten. For the first time in a while, I had a lot to talk about with him.

"So that's where I am right now. Why do these feelings continue to pop up, and now with this paper and my Dad coming back, why do the emotions feel stronger?"

"What I'm hearing is that you haven't received a full amount of closure, Michael."

"But how is that possible? I got Nicky back, I married the girl of my dreams, I've made friends, I'm graduating college next week. What more could be missing?"

"Katie is. You don't feel that justice was served to Mystery, and you know that Katie is still out there. I don't feel that you will have a true sense of bliss until she's locked away."

"That's...wow, you're a genius."

"Didn't make it this far by luck, Michael. I'd like to think I know a thing or two."

"So how do I get closure?"

"For that, you might need to wait."

I felt a weight lift off of my shoulders. At least I knew what needed to be done in order to fully feel like myself again.

I decided to call Ricky and see how he'd been doing. Hearing his voice made me smile, and I was glad to know that things were looking up for him. He said he couldn't wait to see me next week and that he had some news for me. I hoped it was good news, and it sounded like it was by the tone of his voice.

With three days notice before the big ceremony, I was called to the dean's office and I felt a bit anxious walking in there. The last time I was in a dean's office was when I was told that I was no longer a student after my breakdown in 2009. That was seven years ago, though, and I knew at this point, everything was going great.

"Michael, I, as well as your English professor, have decided that we would like you to give a speech at graduation. Something positive and uplifting, but something that stems from your past and all that you have overcome."

"But see, I'd rather not do that. I don't want to expose any more of my life from back then to anyone. It's over and I've moved on."

"Well, that's a shame. Graduates are always looking for hope, and your story is strong with it."

"I'm sorry, I just can't."

I had a deep conversation with my dad later that day, and we didn't talk about the pain I went through. We talked about love and the importance of family and trust. He told me that he was proud of me for never giving up on Nicky and I told him there was no chance of giving up until I knew for sure that it was a lost cause.

Then my dad asked me to play guitar for him, and it would be the first time he would hear me do anything productive. He wasn't around for marching band or skateboarding, or my high school graduation, or anything really, so for him to ask made me feel like he truly did care. After I played a song, something I wrote, I looked up and he had a tear running down his face, and he said something every son wants to hear from their dad:

"I'm proud of you, and I love you. If you can write songs like that, there won't be a single job in the world you won't be able to keep. The dedication and attention to detail; I just wish I had been around more for you."

"You're here now and that's what matters."

Suddenly, Nicky appeared in the doorway to my room.

"Ricky's here, and he's in uniform. Should we be worried?"

"He told me that he had some news. I hope nothing is happening again."

"Hey guys", stated Ricky, "look, I hate to do this, but I need you two to come with me to the station. Persephone, too. The chief has given me a room so we can talk in private."

"I can't do this right now. I invited you here for my college graduation. I don't have time for any more problems."

"It has to do with Katie."

Somehow I knew it was her. Nearly five years of injustice for Mystery had become nothing more than a nagging thought, but now the reality of it has set in once again.

"Can it wait two days until after Nicky and I graduate? This is kind of more important. Both of my parents will be there and I have a baby and a wife."

"She asked for you specifically", said Ricky sternly, "in a letter addressed to the station in St. Pauls."

"Two days, Ricky, you owe me that much."

"Okay. I'll give you two days. After that, you owe me. Now, I'm going back home to work on this case. Bring a picture from the ceremony for me when you come, and if you don't show, I'll come back for you."

"I liked you better when your idea of fun was making my life an adventurous hell. I guess some things don't change."

Part of me didn't want to go, but part of me also knew that if I did, then all of it, everything, would finally be over. Plus, I was curious to find out what Ricky knew.

On the final day before the big ceremony, even though I didn't have any classes, I stopped my my English professor's office to tell him how much his class meant to me.

"Michael, what a nice surprise. I was just reading your paper again. All of this is true?"

"Yes, but as you can see, Katie is still out there."

"I do see that, and I see you're a master at storytelling, but have you reread it yourself?"

"Aside from proofreading, no, why?"

"Well I'm no expert in psychology or detective work, but if this is true, how did you or anyone else for that matter, not see the connection between Ricky and Katie?"

"What do you mean?"

"You write in there that Ricky disappeared a lot, but that you knew he was helping you the whole time. Also, it's stated early on that you discovered Ricky and Katie to be in a short relationship. When Mystery was killed, Katie disappears, but Ricky was with you and urged you to continued looking inside the bank after you wanted to leave, and just so happened to find the clues, or have ideas that you hadn't thought of. It's evident that Ricky had a different motive, even throughout the story."

"Where is this coming from? How did you see this before anyone else?"

"I had a colleague of mine read it, someone in Criminal Justice. He advised me to tell you to keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"How do I begin to figured this out? What's his advice for that?"

"Ask Nicky what he knows about the person who helped him hide away, and for what reason."

So that's what I did. All Nicky could say is that Evan was coming after him, and that someone made an anonymous phone call telling him that he could disappear and no one would find him. Nicky made the box that night and put the suicide note, the DVD, and the cash in it for me, and let the guy do the rest. Then he said that he remained in contact only with Ricky, guiding him in planting the other clues, and then delivering the other box to my job when the time was right. When I asked him about when he lost contact with Ricky, he told me that it was before the incident with the bank, but that communication was very sporadic leading up to that. After the compound blew up, Ricky started getting really weird, but assured Nicky to remain hidden.

Ricky knew where Nicky was all along. That anonymous voice on the phone had to be Ricky's. He was working with Evan the whole time.

We graduated, which was something neither of us ever though we'd do. Nicky and I introduced our parents to to some of our friends and Persephone was taking pictures of everything. Afterward, the five of us went to a nice restaurant for lunch and then after picking Tyler up from the babysitter, we went back home and talked into the late afternoon. After everyone went to bed, I sat up restless, and I decided to tell Persephone what I knew and she surprisingly agreed with me.

"Go find out what he needs to say, but don't let your guard down. Tyler and I will be okay here. Also, I think you should take Nicky."

"And whys that?"

"Because you were so busy looking for him that you couldn't see that there was anything off about Ricky. You could use his eyes and ears."

"What if he won't go?"

"I'm in", stated Nicky, "sorry, I couldn't sleep and I saw the light on in the living room, so I let myself in. You guys should lock the doors at night."

"I-I did", stammered Persephone, "and I turned off all of the lights."

"Ricky's been here", I said, "babe, call the police. Nicky, let's find out what he grabbed."

Persephone and I lived in a two bedroom house on one floor. How we hadn't heard Ricky breaking in is beyond me. I hate how this game is always played, like a sick version of cat and mouse, and it just never seems to end.

The only thing missing seemed to be the copy of my English paper and after the police arrived, Persephone noticed her camera was missing. All of the other valuables were there and Tyler was still in his crib in the next room. Why would he take those? And more importantly, what was his next move?

The answer to that was only a day away. Turning on the news only confirmed that Ricky murdered my English professor for an unknown reason. Maybe he discovered the theory and snuffed out the creator, or maybe it was yet another call out to me. It was day three and I never showed up in St. Pauls, and with a sick mind like Ricky's, who knows what could happen.

"Nicky, lets go and see what he has to say", I told him after seeing the news.

Persephone helped me pack, and Tyler was in the bassinet sleeping. She had streaks of dried tears in her eyes and we were silent.

"You don't think I'm coming back, do you?"

"I think that what you're doing is great, Michael. I think you'll be able to sleep better after this. We've been trough a lot together, and if this is the closure you're looking for, I pray that you get it. But something has been really bothering me since you talked to your professor. Ricky and I worked very close during that time to keep you safe. If he really is the mastermind, then let it be, but he must've been an amazing double agent to be in two places at one time. Just don't go into this with a closed mind. And remember, I love you."

"I love you, too. And for what it's worth, I hope you're right. I don't want Ricky to be the one."

Attempting to find a smaller suitcase, Persephone came across my old duffel bag in the closet. She pulled it out and looked inside.

"Babe, look what I found."

Inside the bag was a few of my old things that I hadn't seen in years. Persephone was pointing out a book. Stargirl. I picked it up and opened it to Katie's message on the last page. Out fell a piece of construction paper that I recognized. It was my list of goals I made for myself the day I met Persephone.

"Take the book and give it back to her. That's your closure."

There's a song I like by one of my favorite bands Brand New, and one of the lyrics states, "Is that what you call a getaway? Tell me what you got away with. I've seen more spine in jellyfish. I've seen more guts in eleven year old kids." I find those words applying to my life in more ways than I'd like to admit, because it can be the truest statement to ever escape my lips, and it remains pertinent to this. Whether the person we're looking for is Katie, or Ricky, or even someone else, they left, they moved on from the crimes they either committed or conspired, and for some reason decided to send a letter to spark it all back up. They believed they got away and resurfaced. Are they looking to some twisted version of poetic justice? Or is this a declaration that they are returning for one final fight, a martyr preparing to go out with guns blazing, advocating Anarchy and false freedom? Whatever the truth may be, whatever the outcome, I was prepared.

Nicky and I boarded the plane the next day, after hugging and kissing Persephone and Tyler. It was an eerily silent goodbye, but I assumed that, like myself, everyone had a lot on their mind. Nicky and I weren't seated together, which was just as good. I wanted to get caught up on my sleep, and I didn't feel like talking.

After a few layovers, the final plane was landing in Fayetteville. In an attempt at trusting that Ricky wasn't the guy, or maybe just to play the game, I asked Ricky to meet Nicky and I at the airport. I told Nicky beforehand, but when he locked eyes with Ricky, I could sense the tension.

"This is the letter", stated Ricky as we sat in the interrogation room at the station, "but it was typed, so we couldn't match handwriting. No fingerprints either."

The letter was short, and Nicky and I both read it through its sealed bag labeled 'Evidence'.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Asked Nicky.

"No", said Ricky, "it's a riddle."

"He who we thought could be trusted, is now the one who should be busted. I will will not emerge until my scars have healed, or once the traitor rots behind bars. Dearest Michael, save the damsel", I reread aloud, then said, "Well clearly there is something that we're missing. Ricky, can this be traced?"

"We tried analyzing the ink and paper. It was standard for just about any household. We just don't have enough evidence to open Mystery's cold case."

"So why are we here?"

"Well, Michael, I only needed you."

"Nicky and I are a team now. We can do this together. What do you need us to do?"

"I need you to solve the riddle. I feel it in my heart that only you can."

"One last adventure, right?"

"You got it, bro."

The only advice Ricky could give me still left me shaky. I wanted to believe in him, but I had trouble. He wanted us to talk to Katie's parents, and to do that, we had to make our way back to my old college town of Pembroke. The problem was, I remembered where the house was from when I had Thanksgiving with them and Katie, but I didn't have a specific address. Ricky had a last known address for Katie, which would've been her parents' house if she'd stayed after her coma, but it turned out that she rented an apartment before I came back and got reconnected with her. There was a very strong chance that it had been rented out again since she left.

Just to follow the lead, Nicky and I decided to try the apartment building. If she was on the run, there was a possibility that she could've hidden things that weren't found.

So we decided to make a plan.

In order to look for anything out of the ordinary, if there were new tenants, Nicky and I would need to act as police officers with a search warrant, which was doable, but we had no time. Otherwise, Plan B would be to knock and see if someone was home, then wait for them to leave and break in. Plan C seemed to be Nicky's favorite, for some sick reason. Stage a robbery, mask up, break down the door, tie up the tenants, search the place and leave.

As Nicky drove us up to the apartment building, it turned out there was a Plan D that we seem to have overlooked. The place was boarded up, abandoned.

I've come so far in life at this point, married, a baby, college graduate, but the moment I step foot in this abandoned building, I'm a criminal again. I start my downward slope into that life again, and I've worked so hard to move on from it. People have died, real people, not actors on TV who just get up and shower off their makeup. I've been sober for a long time, and now I'm itching to drink just to calm my nerves. I am rehabilitated and I know this is wrong, but if I don't do this, I won't have closure. So I did the one thing that felt right and I called Persephone.

"Hey babe! Are you coming home soon?"

"Persephone, I need you to listen to me. Nicky and I are following a clue, and if I do this, it will be illegal. Morally, I know it's wrong, but I feel like I need to. I just want you to know that if worse comes to worst, I love you and I will call you as soon as I can. I could stop this and come home, but there will always be a hole. I need you to tell me what I should do."

"I need you do be careful, and I want you to be calm. I will be here for you no matter what. I love you very much, and I will never walk away from you. I hope this is where it ends."

"Thanks. I'll let you know as soon as I know something."

Hanging up the phone felt better after talking to my wife and making the decision together, but I still had that lingering feeling in my gut that something wasn't right. Not just the breaking and entering, but something else, almost like I was becoming consciously aware that something was going to go wrong no matter what.

"Hey, Michael, you ready?"

"As much as I'll ever be."

Using a crowbar, Nicky pried off one of the pieces of plywood nailed to a back window and threw it to the ground. He hoisted himself up and into the building, and I quickly followed. At this point, I wasn't sure what we were looking for. I didn't even know what Katie's apartment number was. Ricky never gave it to me; he said it wasn't listed for her protection. It seemed weird at the time, but I overlooked it.

The ground floor was covered in dust and debris, and there were bugs everywhere. I had a feeling the other floors were like this as well. Equipped with flashlights, Nicky and I pressed on into the blackness. With the way the sunbeams shone through here and there, it reminding me of the bank, and that was an uneasy emotion to handle right now.

I had to press on. I had to keep going because I had to believe that I was moving forward for something, toward something, to the end of something that should've ended a long time ago. Maybe some people would rather live in misery than feel comfortable knowing there are buried secrets that haven't yet been brought to light and rectified, but I'm tired of running away from my past. It's time to face my demons once and for all.

While some people walk toward the proverbial light, I found that Nicky and I were walking toward a literal one on the second floor, which was weird considering we were in a rickety old building, and the electricity had to have been turned off a while ago.

"Nicky, I think we should go."

I turned to find myself faced with the silenced barrel of a pistol. Nicky cocked a round into the chamber and grinned.

"I think you should open the door, bro."

No, no, no, no this can't be right. Am I dreaming? What is going on?

"Nicky, what are you doing?"

"Shut up, Michael. I'm sick of your questions and your speeches and your bitching. You will speak when spoken to, and that's it."

I had to think fast. I had no time for talking, no time for running. My fear disappeared in an eerie way and I prepared myself for whatever was behind this door. Please, Nicky, no more blood.

Slowly I turned the knob and threw the door open. The room seemed pretty bare, and the light appeared to come from the open window, or rather, the lack of wall. The entire outside wall had been removed exposing the outside. The second floor isn't so far up, but high enough.

My second glance at the room gave me more of an idea about what I was dealing with, and the sight turned my stomach. Bolted to the middle of the floor and led out the window, tight and sunk in as if it was holding something heavy at its end, was a rope.

"Go in, Michael. We're going to play a game. "

I stepped in trying as hard as possible to be aware of my surroundings; aware of anything that could jump out and end me. I wanted to live, and that was made pretty apparent, considering the level of fear I've gone through in my life so far just to stay alive.

"To your left is a door. To your right is a door. In front of you is a gaping hole with a rope hanging through it. Someone you love dearly is hanging on to by a single thread of life and needs you, but you only get to make one choice. In this game, you get no clues. Time is ticking."

Suddenly, a digital clock projected on the wall stating I had two minutes, and it began counting down by the second. The projection appeared as if from nowhere, but I noticed the thin light creating it came from the door to the right. For some reason, I thought I could rule that door out, but the whole setup was sketchy anyway. The obvious choice was to follow the rope, but that could be too obvious, leading to some kind of pain, or so obvious that it could be the right choice. The door with the projection coming from it could be a diversion, something to make me think it isn't the correct path, but again could also be blatantly wrong. The other door has shown no signs of being good or bad either way, which actually leaves me in no better position than I was in a minute ago.

Fifty-nine seconds left.

Choose, Michael. Pick one and be a hero, or suffer the consequences. Figure this out. Analyze the situation.

Wait, can it be that easy?

The projection, the rope, the doors, Nicky. Katie's not here.

"Fifteen seconds, Michael, what's your choice?"

"Your funny little game was a blast, Nicky, but I know she's not here. You would never risk killing someone I love as much as I love her. Somehow you knew, somehow you figured out I would run to her rescue, but she's not here."

I was startled to notice the rope jiggling under my feet, but I pretended I couldn't feel it.

"Oh, she's here, brother. Final chance. What is your choice?"

"It doesn't matter. Katie is safe and out of your hands now. Whatever door I choose holds some kind of trap and I refuse to get caught up in your sick amusement."

"She's not safe, what do you mean?"

"Funny thing about sociopathic people is that not everything can stay under their control indefinitely." I picked up the rope that was no longer tight, and no longer holding anything. "My favorite part was your opening speech. You gave away where she was at the beginning. You never had control."

Footsteps approached at a rapid rate. Multiple pairs, heavy like a SWAT team. Led by Ricky, who appeared behind Nicky in enough time to pull him to the ground and lock the handcuffs on his wrists before he could run.

"Thanks, Michael, you've been a great help here", said Ricky.

"I wasn't about to do something like this again without backup. Can I take this wire off now?"

Ricky asked me to lift my shirt and helped me remove the tape on the microphone and recorder box.

"Would you've been able to figure it out without us? You know, saving Katie and all?"

"I kind of guessed that the most obvious choice was the most obvious thing in the room. I figured that Katie hanging there from the rope was a perfect diversion, but too cliche to pass up. I'm glad you guys got to her before something happened."

"Well I guess now all there is to do is go through interrogation and find out how Nicky masterminded all of this."

"I'd like to be there, if that's okay."

"I'd like you to be there, too, man."

That night, I met Ricky for coffee and we caught up on each other's lives. Katie was in the hospital with critical wounds and she couldn't speak yet, so we didn't know her side of the story. We talked a lot about her and how our stories continued to cross paths because of her. The mood became somber when I told him what my English professor told me. I confessed to Ricky that he was my only suspect, but the culprit was under my nose the whole time. I can't believe the time I wasted searching for my brother. I can't believe it was some elaborate game to him. I only hoped to get a confession out of him the moment I saw him in the interrogation room.

My first impression looking through the two-way glass was that Nicky had somehow withered physically, and possibly mentally, overnight. I had a legitimate fear of going in there, but I needed to maintain a level of comfortability with him, so I asked for something that Ricky argued with me about before I demanded to see his superior.

"Michael, this is not a good idea", the chief said sternly, "there is no way you're going in there alone without him cuffed down!"

"You can't talk me out of this, sir. I understand you've done this police thing for a long time, but that's my brother in there. I can talk to him."

After a few more minutes of deliberation and watching me stand my ground, the chief finally agreed, but only on the condition that a team be outside either door in case of any problems, and that both the chief and Ricky be monitoring the whole thing from behind the glass, and that they would pull the plug at the first sign of issue.

I also had to sign a waiver stating I knew the dangers ahead and that the station would not be held responsible for anything that happened. Signing that might freak some people out, but for me, it gave me the peace of mind I needed to get through this.

"Hey, Nicky. How's it going?"

"You tell me. You have the notes."

"Actually, what I have is a list of charges pending on you. You're going to prison for a long time, bro, and I just need you to tell me the truth."

"Okay, I get it", and he laughed in a way that reminded me of scary movies, "you're the good cop. Where's the bad cop?"

"They're everywhere. Through the glass, behind the doors, but they've promised to stay out of this as long as you cooperate."

"Is there any chance of walking away from here a free man, Michael? Will I ever breathe the outside air again?"

"I doubt it. Even without the confession of what happened five years ago? You were caught kidnapping Katie, and your DNA was matched to the murder of my English professor."

"And that's all?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I tell you the whole story, every detail in oath bound truth, what can they offer me? What's the deal."

"The deal is, as of now, with full disclosure, you get life with a possibility of parole in twenty-five years. However, you're still facing life whether you tell me the truth or lie. Just don't make it hard on yourself."

"Then let's begin. You can turn on the camera now."

It took nearly two hours for Nicky to talk, and I said not one single word.

He started with the night our friend Eric was killed over Nicky's little meth charade. I remembered at one point that Evan informed me that he and Nicky were partners in this, and Nicky confirmed it for the camera, but then things went south between them, and Evan sent out a few guys to kill Nicky.

At this point, Arthur Stone comes in. Nicky drugged him and paid to shoot himself and stage Nicky's death. Of course, Nicky took the money back from the corpse and left his wallet and other evidence to make believe that Arthur really was the now deceased Nicky Grey.

It felt like once Nicky started, he couldn't stop. He felt guilty about lying to me and putting me through emotional hell. He sent out all of the clues for me to find him, hoping Evan wouldn't catch on. He knew Evan was coming after me and hid in cowardice, and once Nicky knew Evan was dead, he felt relieved, and came out of hiding to meet me at the bank where his next set of clues would take me.

Then, as he passed by the car, Katie emerged to ask me how I got out and where Ricky was, but soon realized he was Nicky. In a panicked rage, he slit Mystery's throat as she dialed my number and knocked Katie out, hiding her in a dumpster and returning to the armory awaiting my discovery. Nicky even admitted to drugging Lefty and forced him to confess to Mystery's murder.

Then he paused, and I added everything up in my head, but something wasn't clicking.

"How did you keep Katie hidden and alive, even that night, when we were together, for all of these years? How did you kill my English professor without me even knowing?"

"Because I had an accomplice through a lot of this."

I was almost shocked. Almost.

"I need a name, Nicky."

"Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, Michael. Isn't that what he said?"

I heard the commotion start up and escalate quickly after Nicky's last statement. It seemed like a buzzing of voices combined with a pack of high speed footsteps headed for what seemed like the door behind Nicky, and at this point, we stood up and stared.

"Is there anything else I need to know before that door opens?"

"It won't, Michael. This confession was only a ploy to get Ricky to crack. I told the chief the truth earlier. I'm ready to face time for my choices, but couldn't live with myself knowing the truth about Ricky, especially with you being so close."

"He created the note from Katie, didn't he. He made you keep her hostage and set up that trap in the apartment?"

"No, that was all him. I honestly thought he would let her go when we found her. He is out of control."

I heard the electric sound of a taser and a cry out in pain. The commotion stopped then, and I could hear the jingle of keys.

"Just give me one last hug, Michael. I'm going to miss you."

So I did, and tears ran down my face.

The door swung open, and Nicky was cuffed, led through the door, and I couldn't look away.

I sat through the trial as it dragged on for weeks. The final verdict left Nicky's fate in the prison system for 80 years, with parole eligibility after 20. Ricky's fate was left up to God, as he was given the death penalty, but he may sit ten years before execution.

I smiled and waved at Nicky, as did Persephone. She came to see the verdict being announced, and seated with us were Aries and Emma, who were also victims in all of this. Our hatchets have since been buried, and Persephone and I have been invited to their wedding in a few months.

My brother is going to die in prison, which seems a little ironic considering the fact that he had already died being caught up in his mental prison. I grieved the suicide, I accepted that he was gone, and now, I feel like there's nothing left to miss.

After the verdict, I finally drummed up the courage to visit Katie. She was buried a week before the end of the trial. Her small little body had faced a lifetime of trauma and she couldn't hold on anymore. I knelt down and placed Stargirl at the foot her headstone and made my peace. Persephone placed her hand on my shoulder and Tyler sucked his thumb in his carrier.

Jon and Keith stopped being an inseparable bromance when Jon picked up a job directing a movie in Hollywood. He's come so far since YouTube and I'm really proud of him. Keith picked up a sponsorship last year skateboarding and is now traveling the world filming his first pro spot for Thrasher Magazine.

Terrance and Robby took their radio show nationwide with a mix of punk and politics. They call it "The Dirty and the Deconstruction". I find it really hard to understand what they talk about sometimes, but the music is good.

Finally, my mom and dad got back together. My mom has been sober for a while and my dad has been very supportive. Turns out, they were looking everywhere to find the once person they lost in the first place.

We all live secret lives. We are all liars in some way, and therefore, we create stories to hide the truth so our loved ones don't get hurt. As poets, we can accurately describe events to the point that even we believe them, almost as if we're trying to rewrite our history, our memories.

Maybe it's to cover up trauma, or to make the past appear unblemished.

If you never read this story, and as a stranger I tell you that I'm an only child, you might believe me. I would want you to, because if you knew the truth, if I told you the whole story, you'd think I was lying.

But then again, what does a stranger's opinion matter anyway? I've trained my brain to believe what I want it to believe, and in my opinion, that's the real, honest, truth. My brother died in 2009 and from here on out, he remains dead to me.