Emily
07:04
Police Station

I leaned down, palms hugging my forehead. I want to tug my hair, pull it out, step over it, burn it, then throw myself to the fire. Why am I such a bitch? I could've saved Matt. I could've. But I didn't. I don't mean to kill him, I just want to live. To not let my efforts of studying go to waste, to actually fulfill my dreams, but I can't do that. Not when a person I liked died because of me. I'll admit it: I used Matt as my rebound, and…he's just so stupid. He's so blinded by his "love" for me, that he doesn't know that. But after his…disappearance…my "like" turned to admiration, which turned to this crazy thing called "love". Feeling incomplete whenever he's not around. Him trying to save me. Is that love? Even though the tower is tipping, he tried, and now he's…goddamn it.

No, he's not dead. The police didn't confirm anything. There's a possibility he's still down there…starving, and getting chased by those hideous monsters. I'm clinging to that possibility, even though I know the risks of hoping.

Sam
08:12
Police Station

Calm down, Sam. Inhale…exhale. He's going to be fine...not that fine, but better. I know that he's not going to walk free on these streets, I just want to see him…out of concern. The others left, about an hour ago, saying they need to chill and pull themselves together. You know…moving on and all that. You know what? I don't blame Josh. I mean, sure he put us all in danger through this BIG prank that he planned, but he doesn't know about the, wendigos. God, even saying that word brought back flashes of memories, sounds, footsteps, blood.

Pull yourself together. Inhale…exhale…inhale…ex…

The door swung open, its hinges creaking at the motion. He's being escorted by two bulgy men in police uniform, their expressions cold and calculating. I watched in awe as I saw him. His face is contorted into disappointment, frustration, and guilt; his eyes and nose are red. I just noticed the sofa shifted, and a curvy, brunette lady in a business suit touched his back, like she's leading him out. I want to scream at them. I want to tell them to not lock him away from the world, to not take him away from his family, from his friends. I'm always an outspoken person. I speak what's in my mind in a polite way.

Yet this time, I didn't.

I didn't mutter a single word, a syllable, not even an "uh…"

This is for his own good, Sam. If you really care for him, you'd let him go and grow on his own.

I sighed and tilted back.

Ashley
14:02
Home

I sloped the Woodbridge bottle and watched the alcohol slashing through the shot glass. It's sparkly, just like in the movies, and a bit bubbly. I downed it all in one shot. This is such a bad way to forget stuff, but it's fun, they said. Jess, to be specific. I poured another one and drank it. It's sweet and tasty, alright. But the bitter feelings I had are still there.

"Wait! Chris, no! Let me do it. Let me repay you. You've saved me before, let me return the favor. Please, Chris, I can't…" I cried, struggling to get off this chair and rope. Saws above us, about to break our head and crush our bones; the gun on Chris' head; his agonizing face. Oh my God, I can't do this! Chris' eyes flickered, and he suddenly pointed the gun at me, his hand and fingers shaking.

"I'm so sorry, Ash." He cried, not being able to look at me. My tears flowed down, accompanied with a few hiccups and groans. DID HE REALLY TOOK THAT SERIOUSLY?!

"Chrrriiis—"

*BANG!*

I screamed, expecting my head to go limp, blood spilling everywhere, life fading, but no. Josh freaking Washington stood there, laughing his ass off.

I slammed the shot glass on the table, making a thud! in the process. Josh. That fucker. Grabbing the wine, I poured down some more, not caring if the table is a mess from all that liquid. I drank the shot glass, not stopping, not caring if it's burning and choking me to death. Another memory flashed back, as I closed my eyes and drank it, as if the drink would bring back the horrible moment.

"Ashley! Ash! Please, open the door..." I walked near the door cautiously, the man who I once had a crush on, the man who saved me once, the man who could've KILLED me…asks for MY help. My eyebrows furrowed as I saw him, banging his hand on the door with a terrified and desperate expression on his face. A part of me is saying to open the door. He's human, he's your friend, but the other part told me to stay away. It's too late, and he deserved it.

"ASHLEEYY! Ash?" He asked, confused, betrayal flashed on his eyes, as I saw a spiderlike skeleton/Mystique-kind of skin not far away from him. I stepped back slowly, as I saw Chris breaking down. Then a force slammed me back on the wooden floor, my back almost breaking.

"WHAT THE FUCK ASHLEY?!" Mike hollered, unlocking the door quickly, resulting on Chris collapsing on the floor near to my feet. All of our breaths are quick and panicked, but relief and satisfaction at the same time. Mike looks like that survivor from Walking Dead, with his camo jacket and dirty jeans, oh and his bruised face. Chris, on the other hand, looked hollow but depressed, numb but emotional, relief and disappointed.

It is not your fault, Ash. He tried to shoot you with a gun! He deserved it! That part convinced myself.

But the other part is still clinging to my mind, sending various signals to my veins, to my heart. The other part is crestfallen.

He's just human, Ashley. Humans make mistakes. Besides, if he wants to kill you, he would've done it before, right?

I rubbed my face with my hands which are wet from the drink, and poured another one, only for me to know that it's empty. I sighed.

Another bottle it is.