"So, you know how they figured out it was you?" Another officer, who identified himself as Sheriff Stilinski, leaned forward as we sat in the interrogation room. "They said that there were no traces of fingerprints in the car, but they found a few strands of your hair in the car. They tested it and it lead to your identity."

"I'm not saying anything until I have my lawyer present," I sneered at Sheriff Stilinski. I knew better than to say a single word to the officers until I spoke to my lawyer; I didn't need anything else being held against me.

"You know you're guilty, don't you?"

"Still waiting on my lawyer," I reminded him. Of course I knew I was guilty, and Sheriff Stilinski knew I knew, but I wasn't about to just jump into saying that I was when I could work something out with a lawyer in order to get a less severe sentence. Sheriff Stilinski sighed.

Regardless of what my lawyer could have said or done, court was absolute hell. I wasn't there for very long, considering I took the plea deal and ended up with a sentence of five years instead of nine. I would have ended up with only three, but the guy I ended up carjacking was injured as a result of my assault in the process. Since they still had no idea about the other cars I stole – they were only charging me for this one – I was not considered a flight risk, and I would be held at $180,000 bond. I doubted anybody would help me; I wouldn't ask that of the Hales, not even sure if they could afford that, and I'm sure my own family wouldn't even try to help. I wasn't even sure that my mother or father would know about all this. As far as they knew, I could be dead on the street.

Peter was always on my mind. There wasn't a second that passed where I didn't think about him. The thing I was scared of more than not being able to find him was him forgetting about me. I would find him after this; I was determined. I didn't care how long it would take me, but I needed a fresh start and I wanted him there beside me.

While I was in prison, I did a lot of writing and drawing to pass the time. It definitely wasn't the highlight of my life, and it was never a situation I expected myself to be in. I made sure to not get too friendly with the fellow inmates but to get close enough to know who I was talking to. I didn't trust a single one of them, and because of that I mostly kept to myself. Prison gave me a lot of time to reflect on the last few years, and while this wasn't the exact place that I wanted to be, it would help me get myself there.

It took me a year to perfect a children's book that I had constructed the idea for. I called it [i]The Big Bad Wolf: The Tale of an Unlikely Hero[/i]. Each page had two lines, and was set up in an ABCB format of rhyme. I did all of the illustrations by hand.

There once was a girl named Allie
who once got lost in the woods.

Every night she heard howling,
so she'd hide as best as she could.

And then one night in those woods
she saw two men outside.

The men were big and very scary,
so Allie ran for her life.

But from the woods, to her surprise,
emerged half wolf, half boy

Who scared the scary men away
giving Allie much joy.

The werewolf said, "I do no harm,
I only want to be your friend."

Allie smiled, took his hand,
and said she would be until the end.

His name was Pete, and he was kind,
and through the woods he roamed.

Now he spent his days with Allie,
and shared with her his home.

When Allie heard the howling at night,
she knew now not to fear

For appearances can be deceiving,
and she knew her Pete was near.

After I got out of prison, I felt as if the worst of my life was finally over. Once my court fees were paid off, I worked as hard as I could for a year to try to get my book published. After fourteen months, a publisher finally took me in and mass produced it to bookstores. The Big Bad Wolf: The Tale of an Unlikely Hero ended up flying off the bookshelves faster than I could have ever anticipated. Critics called it a modern twist of Little Red Riding Hood, but with a happy ending and great promise. Plush toys were made of little Allie and Pete a few months after the book's release. There was a demand for more stories about Allie and Pete, and it was ironic because I no longer went by that name. I couldn't legally change it, since the judge thought I could potentially be using it to escape future run-ins with the law, but in reality I really just needed a fresh start. I wanted to leave my past behind and step forward. For my children's books, I called myself Wendy Hale. That was the only name I went by anymore. If I met someone new, which was usually through my book, I was no longer Alexandria Porter. I was Wendy Hale. It helped me continue to grow and made me feel closer to Peter, even though I had no idea how to contact him, especially after leaving Beacon Hills. They weren't in the phone book, and I was located in San Francisco to be closer to the publisher and the city, since I did a few book signings and readings at local libraries. With the money I made from my book, which was a surprising amount, I could afford a small apartment and clothes that would make my mother proud again.

As I was working on my second book, which would make The Big Bad Wolf a series, I heard on the news of an unknown arsonist burning down a home in Beacon Hills last night. When I looked up, I almost fainted; it was the Hale house. I put down my pencil and watched, feeling extremely nauseous. I didn't want to believe what I was hearing. Eleven were reported dead. Only three had survived, but they didn't say who. I kept the news on in hopes that they would reveal the names of the survivors as I worked on my next book. Even if Peter was alive, I would still be devastated: they were my family. It felt strange immortalizing someone who could potentially be dead. I tried my best to work on the sequel, but I couldn't. I ended up crying on my couch instead, ordering some take-out Chinese food, and then crying myself to sleep after dinner.