Have you ever seen a dead body before?

No?

Well, I have. Mine.

"Oh shit." The Newman Abbott princess said with lips of an angel, but if you knew her you would know her heart was painted blacker than the asphalt she walked upon. "Is she dead?" Katie looked over to her best friend Moses. His beautiful mocha skin looked gaunt under the harsh neon red lights in the bathroom.

"She looks dead." Katie repeated. Her cobalt blue eyes flashed from my very dead corpse to her best friend, who had been stunned silent. His mouth opened to say something, but what came out wasn't what she expected. Chunks flew everywhere. Some even by me. I didn't mind though. Not anymore.

"Moses! What the fuck do we do?" Katie was hysterical now. Her hands flew to her face clawing at her perfect fair skin. The beautiful ballerina shaped doll was now a shaken wreck.

As long as I lived, all twenty of those years, I have never seen the Ice Princess like this. She was distraught, unnerved, and I was the reason behind it all. I would laugh if I could.

"I don-" Moses words were cut off, by another's.

"Is she dead?" Mattie asked, mimicking Katie's.

"What do you think you idiot? You think she's lying next to the porcelain throne with her eyes wide open for fun?" Katie snapped, her hands were grasping the sink behind her now, it was as if she needed support. "Shut up, bitch. This is probably your fault." Mattie retorted, backing away from the stall like a frightened doe. Her round brown eyes begin to leaked tears. She immediately brushed them away. Embarrassed.

I guess the sight of me was more disturbing than I originally thought. Mattie was a nice girl, though we weren't friends. She never treated me like shit. She never was a Katie to me. She was kind enough to say 'hi' whenever she saw me in the halls or in class. I wish I could tell her how much that meant to me.

"My fault?" Katie's voice grew in volume at the accusation. "Last I checked the only murderer in this room was you, Mattie." She knew how to hit those buttons and she got the reaction she was hoping for. Mattie lunged for her. Her hands finding their way around Katie's throat. Katie just hung her head back and laughed. Moses quickly interfered. "Let her go." His shaky hands reached out to Mattie's wrist. She fought back the urge to choke the life from her former friend's body and become the true murderer Katie loved to taunt her with. Mattie dropped her hold on Katie. Without another word she stalked over to the sink furthest from them. Moses gave Katie a disapproving look and she returned it with a glare.

It felt like an hour had past. The noise from outside caught all their attention. Panic started to set in. "I can't be here." Katie murmured, her hands ran through the tangle dark mess atop of her head. She was sweating profusely and her hands started to shake. She quickly removed her pink Kate Spade cat clutch from off her shoulder. She searched through it. Desperately in need of something.

"What are you doing, Katie?" Moses asked, after finally getting his bearings together. He couldn't looked over in that direction. He just couldn't. He had to focus on something else. Someone else. He didn't know how to handle a situation like this. This was nothing like when Katie accidentally OD'd on Christian's prescription of Ritalin. At the end of the night she was calling him a bitch for calling 911. She was fine. This girl was not.

"I need to ease the tension."

"What?"

"She needs to get high, Moe."

Moses watched as Katie cut a line on a battle of the bands flyer he gave to her earlier that day. The snow was pure white and smooth like ice. She went straight across with ease. She was a pro at this. "Katie? No!" He snatched the clear plastic baggie from her hand. Going to the next stall over to dump it. Her scream was echoed around them in the small women's restroom. Her eyes were wide and her lips curled in a sneer. "You need to be sober right now."

He was right. The cops came next. The same night I accidentally overdose was the same night of their bust of The White Knight. Johnny Abbott never saw it coming. He thought he was untouchable. He was...to an extent. He was an heir to the Newmans and Abbotts. Two big families always in battle over power and money. Each one trying to outsmart the other, but in the end they all danced to whatever tune Victor Newman played. He was a real puppet master. An iniquitous one at that.

Johnny's face became an ashen white. He couldn't breathe. Everything was going so fast for him. His brain couldn't keep up. The girls were just up on stage giving the audience some of their best dances, the waitresses were just serving some his most expensive liquor and he was doing a line of blow with bourbon as a chaser. He was high as a kite and nothing could keep him down. He felt invincible. That was until the Feds came knocking. The door busted down like it weighed no more than a feather. His girls were no longer dancing. They were running while holding their naked breasts. His waitresses dropped a thousand dollars worth of alcohol and were also running. His club had shifted from an erotic white out party to a maelstrom of bare ass, screaming, and broken glass, while he watched it all happen from his office above. It was built just above the stage with a two way mirror to disguise what it actually held within its walls. This office made him feel like a god, he wasn't plagued by the petty worries of mortals. He didn't fear nothing when safely locked behind the thick sound proof enclosure. He had all he needed back here. His drugs, his money, and a clear shot of t & a. He could stay here forever, but forever was officially cut off with this raid.

The girl that was underneath his desk giving him amazing head was now too scared to stand. Her mouth slipped off his dick and stayed shut too afraid to move. He couldn't move either, but it wasn't fear that caused his immobility. He wasn't afraid. He was actually tired. Tired of running. Maybe he deserved all of this. Maybe it was his time to face the consequences of all the shit he had done.

Or maybe he was going to become someone's bitch and take it up the ass for the next year for drug peddling to high school and college students.

"Nah. Fuck that."

Johnny slipped his now flaccid penis back into his white Brooks Brothers slacks. He started cleaning off of all the illegal drug paraphernalia he had cluttered on his desk. His slicked back golden honey blonde hair became undone. A thick strand fell just above his nose. He looked like a madman trying to discard or hide all the shit he had. His lips twitched and his hands itched. He was in need of a cigarette. The frightened girl underneath his desk watched as he grabbed a cigarette from his silver cigarette case that was engraved with his initials on it. It was a gift from his grandfather. One he truly cherished. It went well with his silver cocaine vial. That was a gift from himself.

He placed the cigarette between his lips. Taking a seat in his modern red velvet cushioned chair. He pulled out the lighter from his pocket. He lit the end of it, watching it smoulder for a bit before he inhaled the addictive fumes. The Feds hit his hiding spot next. He didn't even give them the satisfaction of seeing him panic or try to run. He remained calm and took another hit of his cigarette. Agent Malloy was leading the pack.

"Here's a warrant to search the premises and one for your arrest John Abbott IV." He slapped the papers down atop of his desk. Ronan leaned over making sure he was just a few inches from Johnny's face. "Victoria must be really proud of the man you became." Johnny inhaled and blew the smoke into Ronan Malloy's face. "She's very proud."

Connor bit his lip. Chewing at the piece of hanging skin that was now bleeding. His eyes were locked on Charlie. Charlie was a mess. He was scared and out of breath. They didn't know what to say to each other. The sounds of shouting and crying were becoming more and more apparent from their place in the men's restroom. Connor's asshole cousin was finally getting everything he deserved and hopefully more. Connor thought that would make him feel better finally watching Johnny go down for all his duplicity, but...but he now couldn't even think straight. His emotions were an entanglement of never ending knotted colors. His blues were snarled up with his reds which produced a nice grape color. The browns intertwined with his grays becoming a yucky muddy mess. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. He wondered what Charlie was thinking.

His back was pressed against the black tile wall. He slid down from a crouching position to a sitting one. It was as if his own legs could no longer sustain his own weight. His thoughts were screaming so loud inside his head he could swear Connor could hear them as his own. Charlie's lips started to move. Forming a sentence to speak out into the air between them, but nothing came out. What was he going to say? How could he ease the tension after what they had done? His fingers interlaced forming a tight lock. It kept his mind off of things and his hands occupied. His tongue felt like sandpaper scratching at the top of his roof. He was thirsty, but too afraid to get up and walk out into the madness.

"What do you think is going on out there?" Connor spoke first, breaking the uncomfortable silence they had created. Shattering their bubble of awkward existence. Charlie tried to clear his throat to respond, but there was a knot holding him back from communicating. It was extremely tight in the narrowness of his throat. He could see Connor fidget from anticipation. He was waiting for a response. He needed one.

"Never mind, man. Forget it." He forced out in a huff. Connor now bit down on the loose piece of skin. Tearing it from his lip. The taste of blood poured into his mouth. The pain was all, but a pinch. He spit it out into the sink. Staring back at his wan complexion in the splintered mirror. Ragged lines separated parts of his face. He looked as discombobulated as he felt. He couldn't put up his Newman mask, something he perfected over the years, using it as a shield to protect himself more than anything. Right now he was more exposed than he had ever been in his life. That terrified him.

The weight of the hand caught him off guard. Charlie looked uncomfortable. He didn't know what to say or how to say it. He just knew his best friend needed this. The taste of a smile danced across Connor's lips.

"You'll follow me into the dark?"

The words escaped him before he could truly think upon their meaning and what he was asking of him. Charlie knew the line well. It was from one of his favorite songs. Connor knew that. Charlie parted his lips to respond just as the door was kicked in. "Don't move!" Were the words that overshadowed Charlie's. Connor never did get his answer.

Ronan paced back and forth. His stubble itching at his skin. The coffee he had just tossed burnt the tip of his tongue, it made this whole thing worst. His hair was getting longer and gray strands grew with it. He was getting old. Being around all these kids made that feeling overwhelmingly known. Hour after hour interrogating them made him sink further into his own mind.

They were hiding something, he thought. He was convinced of it after talking to Connor Newman. He also knew he was in for a shit storm when their parents got word of their detainment. They were all from affluent families and their were the four spawned from a bloodline of Victor Newman's creating. That own man will of course be the first to stomped his geriatric evil ass down here to see what this was all about.

Ronan didn't care though. That old bastard wouldn't stop him from doing his job.

He had of course spoke too soon.

"What is the meaning of this? Why were my grandchildren arrested? What are the charges?" Victor's thunderous voice echoed through the halls of the GCPD. Ronan massaged his temples feeling a headache coming on.

"Do you want me to handle it?" the young rookie cop asked, his face had lit up by the challenge. Ronan placed a strong grip on his son's shoulder. "I'll handle this, Officer Malloy." Rory nodded as he went back to the papers that needed to be filed. The kid was like an eager puppy ready for all the danger and action. The paperwork was so tedious to him, but he would have to learn that both was necessary in becoming a great detective.

Ronan took a deep breath and walked straight over to the fuming old man. "Calm down, Victor." Ronan said keeping his voice leveled. The old man furrowed his brows and tighten his jaw. Ronan knew he was about to really hear the thunder in his voice. Thankfully they were interrupted.

"Malloy, the first witness is ready."

He sat across from the first person he was interrogating. The young girl was every bit of her mother. She was her reflection. In this moment though, she was an unsettled kid waiting to be released.

"Hello, Bella." Her daunting eyes rose to his. Her curly chestnut brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun. The couple of strands that touched her face was pushed behind her ear like it was distracting her from concentrating on what was happening right now. "You up to answering a few questions?" He seemed nice enough. Or was it that she needed him to be nice to ease the tension. She couldn't tell. She was doubting everything about herself. Tonight was her first night being at a strip club and she was excited, so much so she made her friend Christian come along. Christian? Her mind went to him. They had got separated in all the chaos. What if he was hurt? It would be her fault. She just had to see what all the hype was about and go. His mom would of course blame her. As if she needed another reason for Mrs. Newman to want her away from her son. What if he had an asthma attack? She had to stop herself. This wasn't helping. So Bella cleared her throat and asked, "Is Christian alright?" The guy was slow to respond. His eyes were burning holes into face. She could tell he was seeing her mother. They all did. She was almost the spitting image of Chloe Mitchell. They all saw her in Bella, she wasn't her own person. She never was. She was the infamous Chloe's daughter. The one so bereft she lost her mind. Bella hated those looks. She clasped her hands and placed them on top of the table. "What is it? The hair? The eyes? Or my upbeat attitude?" She replied wryly to the silent question his face held. He blinked a few times. Getting out of whatever trance he was in. "Excuse me?"

"What is it that reminds me of the crazy bitch that drove off a cliff?"

Interrogation room three was finally occupied with a new witness. Christian Newman sat across from Ronan never meeting his scrutinizing gaze. His hands danced across the table. The kid was an anxious mess. His attention drawn from one thing to the next. Nothing holding him for more than a minute or two. "Is that really a two way mirror?" Christian asked, getting to his feet to walk around the table over to the mirror behind Ronan. "I've always wonder. You know cause of movies and stuff. Can they hear us?" He waved his hand awkwardly then dropped it. Staring at himself made him feel uncomfortable like he could spot every detail that was wrong with him. His shoulders were too soft. He was too skinny, he also developed a slight hump from not standing straight. He just didn't have the confidence his father and brother had. "The swagger". Or so he was told by the girls at his high school. Now that he was in college he hoped that would all change. He had Bella. She was different. She also didn't look at him like some freak with autism. He didn't have autism, but the ongoing rumor was just that. He turned away from his reflection. He couldn't keep looking at all his flaws. The ones so blatantly obvious a blind person could see. He instead walked around the room.

"Would you take a seat? We have to talk."

Christian's eyes lingered on the cold steel chair for merely half a second before he turned his attention to the walls. "Is this soundproof? If I scream right now would anyone hear me?"

The headache was now throbbing against the confines of his head. It was like fist repeatedly pounding against his forehead. Ronan shut his eyes for a second, waiting for the next witness they had lined up. Each kid he talked to brought him no new information. No one would spill on who they got the drugs from or who killed the girl in the bathroom. That body was their biggest piece of evidence. He didn't mean to make her death seem insignificant or like she didn't matter, but the fact of the matter was that this young woman OD'd at Johnny Newman's strip club, The White Knight. The place where drugs were being sold to kids, some minors. As well as the prostitution, extortion, and illegal gambling that was allegedly going on there. Ronan knew without a doubt Johnny was committing so many crimes and was using his family's name and money to get away with it. This girl's death would give them more leeway with a judge to start digging deeper. He just needed a goddamn witness to all the illegal activities.

"So, did you know the victim?" Ronan dropped his hand from his forehead to give her all of his attention. Faith Newman sat across from him high as a kite. Her eyes were bloodshot red and she reeked of booze. She licked her lips and looked up at him. Her eyes wavering.

"I did."

It was all unraveling now. Faith felt like the temperature had risen in the last few seconds. Ronan was throwing questions at her left and right hoping to nail Johnny, but he wasn't who Ronan was really after. This went up. All the way up to the top of their family. "Do you really think my grandfather would be involved in any of this? He's not even the one who invested in Johnny's club." She said, tearing open a new pack of Newport. Her lips wrapped around the familiar stick with ease. Ronan leaned forward with a lighter to help get her started. "I don't know. You tell me then. How does a college dropout, who was locked out of his trust fund get an investor willingly interested in funding a high end strip club. Especially a kid with no experience?" Faith laughed at his attempts into getting her to spill anything. "You really think I would betray my own family?"

Ronan sat back in his chair. Studying the girl that sat before him. She was dressed in a gothic white dress that had a tightly secured corset in the middle with a black leather jacket. He didn't know if her black tights were suppose to have big holes in them or were they from a fight. Her blonde hair looked matted and filthy. She looked like she really been through it. So Ronan lean forward and snatched the lit cigarette from between her lips. He pressed the end to the table, snuffing it out.

"There's no smoking in my interrogation room."

She shifted in her seat before sighing. Her fingers couldn't even comb through her hair when she tried to run them through it. After a minute of struggling she gave up. "So, are we just going to sit here staring at each other until the next person to interrogate is ready?" She said lifting her boots on top of the table crossing her ankles. "No. I know you want to get out of here as badly as I do. I also know you're not close to your family. What I don't know is why are you protecting them?" Ronan could see she was on the verge of spilling. She just needed a push and he would gladly be the one to do it.

"Maybe I'm not protecting them. Maybe I'm protecting myself. Ever thought of that?" Her fingers felt heavy. She didn't know what to do with them. The old guy was really getting to her. She felt the heaviness from his harsh gaze upon her. He was like a hawk watching his prey squirm under the pressure. She lost her way from the Newman path. She even took a few down on her way out the door. Her mother being one of them. She'll never forget the way her mom looked at her with those locked piercing blue eyes. Swollen with tears, but also with a burning anger only a mother could hold. She of course blamed the guy Faith left with. It was always the guy's fault and not her shitty parenting. She even passed down her fractured mental state. She didn't know what was worst, being a Newman or being manic depressive.

"Tell me everything, Faith, and I will make sure you're protected. I don't want you. I just need you." He said bluntly. She appreciated that. He was honest. They both did need each other, for different reasons of course. There was nothing wrong with mutual gratification.

"It started last year. It was spring break. Also when The White Knight first opened. So much youthful recklessness and sexual awakening."

Atta girl, Faith. I hope while you're exposing all the secrets and lies of your cousins you're also exposing your own. Especially the part where you left me to die in that bathroom stall. Pleading with you to go get help because the heroin I injected into my body wasn't in fact heroin, but a lethal dose of Pine Sol and morphine.

You watched me put that needle in my arm and then choke on my vomit as I seized. I couldn't talk, but my eyes spoke to you. Begged you.

You killed me, Faith Cassidy Newman. And so did all the rest of you. I hope you're proud of yourselves.