Death's Cry

by Wings of Metal

Everyone always thought he was fine. A few questions left unanswered are no big deal. But those few questions make up his past, present, and future. They make him who he is. However, during a school project, Frankie and the ghouls must dig into the past without burying anyone in its shadows in the process.

10. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The Calm Before the Storm is a Deafening Silence

---

I do not own Monster High or any of the songs used in the making of this story.

---

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess.

Well, that isn't exactly true. She wasn't a princess. Rather, she was a daughter of a primordial sea god and goddess. But she was beautiful. Stunning. Said to be more beautiful than Aphrodite herself. Until that was ripped from her when a cowardly god couldn't take no for an answer.

"Ugh!" Madison tore the page in half before crumbling it into a paper ball. Deuce walked into her bedroom. The red walls were lit by a candle on her dresser. The sheets hung off the bed like leaves off a weeping willow. He sat on the black bed beside Madison, who had her head in her hands and a notebook in her lap.

"Is this the thing Bloodgood is making you do?" Deuce asked, laying his head on hers. Their snakes entangled, his purposefully knotting hers, which snapped back at his in return.

"Yeah," Madison groaned. She put her hands down and lifted her head. Deuce moved to the side a bit to allow her to put her head on his shoulder. "This is stupid. Why do we even have to do this?"

"All new students have to do it," Deuce answered. "She likes to know culture and life stories and stuff."

"Well, it's still stupid."

"You don't have to write an essay. She lets you do whatever. Poem. Narrative. She'll let you do a song."

"I don't want to do it at all."

"Tough luck." Madison smacked Deuce with a black throw pillow.

The door opened again. This time, Ianthe walked through. She sat on the other side of Madison and looked down at the notebook. "Is this the writing thing?"

"Yeah," Madison said. "Did you start yours yet?"

"Yep," Ianthe said, purposely popping the 'p' at the end. "Finished it a while ago."

"How?" Madison exclaimed. "I can't even get started!"

"Well, maybe you're trying too hard," Ianthe said.

"Yeah," Deuce agreed, "you're probably just overthinking it."

"Well," Madison said, "excuse me for not knowing how to start this d*mn thing."

"Engage," Ianthe said. "Hook them in."

"That's exactly why I can't get started."

"It'll come to you eventually," Ianthe said. She played with the black sheets on the bed, moving the fabric around with her fingertips.

"Are you staying in Madison's room?" Deuce asked.

"Kinda," Ianthe answered. "Mom's letting me stay in the guest room until it gets redecorated to my liking. But I spend more time here than there." Deuce nodded. Ianthe stood up, brushing off whatever was on her thighs. "I feel like we've been here forever. We should go out."

"To...?" Madison raised an eyebrow. She was desperate to get away from the assignment although she knew it needed to be done. What was a little procrastination?

"Anywhere. Where are the others?"

"Probably playing Go Fish or something like the eight-year-olds they are," Madison said, standing up with her.

"I'm down with that," Ianthe said. "You'd think after a decade I'd want to finally get away, but now, I'm bored."

---

Lagoona clicked her pen. She didn't usually get nervous like this, but today was already more different than usual. What was one more unfamiliar thing? Click. Click. Click. Click. She'd hoped that the pen would help get her mind off of it. Click. Click. Click. But today, it just. Click. Wasn't. Click. Helping.

"Lagoona!" The water monster looked up. Abbey stared at her with cold eyes. "You wake sleeping yak with click of pens. Click click click. Dah! Gets annoying!" She took a seat next to the desk beside her friend. "What is wrong?"

"I'm just nervous."

"About?"

"Gil. He hasn't spoken to me since we presented the project."

"He might just be busy."

"But he tries to make time. He always has! What's different?"

"Well, there is few more faces than we are used to."

"Wait, do you think he likes one of them?!" Lagoona's eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"No," Abbey said, "I don't think so. He probably just tired. Do not be overthinking this."

"Alright..." Lagoona sighed. "I'm just nervous...I guess."

"You be fine."

"I hope so."

With that, Abbey stood up. She held her hand out for Lagoona to grab. Lagoona accepted it, and Abbey helped pull her to her feet. "Nothing to worry about. Come. Let us go find the others."

---

In his opinion, there was nothing wrong with solitude. It was nice to get away from the rest of the world. It gave you time to dwell in your thoughts. It gave you time to think.

As he bench pressed one hundred and eighty pounds, he let himself think about Caleen. He knew something was wrong. She was becoming so distant, and that only happened when she felt like something was up. Her gut feeling was never wrong.

"Jason!" He startled himself so badly that he almost dropped the weight on himself. He put the weight up out of harm's way before looking up to see Ashton staring at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jason said, running his fingers through his chocolate brown buzzcut.

"Okay, good." Ashton grinned at his brother. It was a smile that almost made Jason want to smile back. Almost. "We're all meeting up in the student lounge. Care to join us?"

"I don't have an option, do I?"

"Nope. Come on." Jason sighed. There was only one person he let drag him around like this. He was wrapped around Ashton's finger. But they were brothers. He had to protect him, right?

But both of them knew that never stopped Jason from letting the younger one know when push came to shove.

---

"They're not taking both of you." The words hit like a bag of bricks against her chest. Her heart ached, and she felt her legs wobble, her knees turning to Jello.

"What do you mean they aren't taking both of us?" Madison asked. Her voice wavered. Shaky. All the pain she'd spent so many years hiding started to seep through each crack in her voice.

"You're being sent to different homes."

"But we'll still see each other, right?" His voice was calm on the outside, but she knew he was panicking. "I mean, how far apart will we be?"

"Don't count on a weekly visit, let's just say that." Deuce nodded. He seemed to understand. But she didn't. She couldn't. After so many years, they were being ripped from each other's grasp.

And there was nothing either could do.

"Madison?" She blinked, coming out of her trance. Deuce waved a hand in front of her face. "You alright there?" She put her hand to her head. It was warmer than usual.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just had a flashback or something, I guess." The older gorgon knitted his eyebrows.

"You've been taking your medicine right?"

"Yeah, of course." The two sat in silence for a few minutes before Deuce turned back to look at his sister.

"Maddie, you know you can talk to me about anything?" She nodded. "Okay," he said, "just making sure you know."

"I know, I know," Madison said.

"I'm open as well," Ianthe said with a smile. "Anytime you need me."

Madison smiled. "Thanks, Violet."

---

Scarah smiled. The project had been grading, and those who actually worked had received grades better than she thought they would. As she walked down the hallway to the library, she felt a barrier, like a glass wall had been put in from of her. Almost immediately, Invisi Billy appeared, grinning madly. He lifted the book out of her arms.

"What's this?"

"Give that back!" Scarah stood on her toes, but to no avail. Inivisi Billy raised his arm and straightened it. There was no way she could reach it.

"Ghosts versus Spirits: Life After Death," Invisi Billy read. "That's not the kind of books you're into."

"I know, I know." Scarah pulled the book out of her boyfriend's hand. "I just figured it's probably something I need to know about."

"Mmmhmmm," Invisi Billy said. "Yeah, it's really because the new students, isn't it?"

"No!" He raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe? A little?" He smirked. "Oh, all right. It is."

"Why though? They're just normal students like us."

"I know that, but don't you think it's interesting? How they died and were brought back to life? But not as ghosts like most usually are. It simply adds to the mystery of it all."

"Scarah, baby, I don't think you should venture too deep into this. This isn't exactly the best welcoming tactic in the world, if you know what I mean."

"I know, but I'm just curious." Scarah sighed. "I just want to know how it's possible."

"We're monsters," Invisi Billy laughed. "Most of what we do here should be impossible. But here we are, breaking those rules of physics every day." He kissed her forehead. "Just don't get too caught up in this."

"I won't," the banshee said. "I promise."

---

Caleen sat under the tree, her back pressed to the bark with just enough force to leave an imprint on her skin. A cup of tea rested in her palms. The sun warmed her toes, which were just barely peaking through from the shade of the tree. A squirrel climbed up to her, nuzzling her lap and stealing a cracker before disappearing off into the woods.

"Caleen!" She turned to see another dryad walking towards her. She was a girl of Japanese descent. Her straight, brown hair matched her eyes, and her skin was pale as ivory. She wore a crown of cherry blossoms atop her head. Caleen placed the teacup on the grass before standing up to meet the girl. Sakura reached for Caleen's hands, holding them gently in her own. Her skin was cool and contrasted against the eucalyptus dryad's. "Shajarah is coming to get you within minutes," Sakura said, her voice high and childlike. "Methuselah is almost ready for you."

"Okay, thank you, Sakura," Caleen said.

"What's wrong?" Sakura asked, knitting her eyebrows in concern.

"I'm worried," Caleen said. "I've been worrying for days now."

"It's probably nothing."

"If it was nothing, the feeling wouldn't last this long. My gut feeling's never been wrong before."

"Well," Sakura said, "whatever it is, I hope everything works out okay in the end." Caleen nodded, and Sakura smiled, squeezing the girl's hands before dropping them. She turned away and left wordlessly. Caleen sat back to the grass and pulled a leaf out of her tea. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back to look upward, resting it on the tree. Something was wrong. She knew it. Yet, she couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. She often didn't go to the old woman for help, but this time, it was necessary.

She'd lost track of time. Her eyes remained closed as she breathed in and out, trying to calm herself. Meditation always seemed to clear her thoughts. She didn't know how long she'd lasted until she felt a tapping on her shoulder. She opened to see Shajarah, a beautiful Arabic dryad girl with dark skin and black hair with bangs that were brushed to the side. Her brown eyes always burned into the souls of all she looked at. Maybe that was why Methuselah chose her as her assistant.

Shajarah led Caleen to a large oak with branches that stretched to the ends of the Earth as if they were Mother Nature bringing her children in for a hug. The towering tree was a skyscraper amongst the others. It had an opening like a doorway, and the entrance was covered in vines like beaded doorway curtains. Shajarah left Caleen at the entrance to wait, and the brown-haired girl used the time to take a few deep breaths.

She never saw the elder, Methuselah, for anything. If she did, it always was dire. Caleen felt sick as she remembered the last time she saw the old woman. It was just before her fifteenth birthday. She'd gotten a dream that Deuce had died at the hands of their father. The dream felt so real, so lifelike, that she couldn't stop her feet from running to the woman to see if it was true. Methuselah read the girl her vision, which was of a dark, enclosed space and metal and surgical equipment. She told her to go to the hospital to see for sure, and Caleen had no choice but to oblige. It was there that she realized he had. He'd died 7:38 at night, the same night she'd received her dream. Guilt washed onto her, down her skin and staining it as if she were showering in blood. She felt nauseous, her mind spun as she wrapped her mind around it. He was dead. He was dead. He was dead.

She was the last one left. It was her, and her alone. There were thirteen of them, and she was the only one still remaining.

And the only reason she was alive was because she wasn't there. She wasn't there for them. She wasn't there when they needed her. She never showed up.

If she had, she would have already been dead too.

She deserved to die.

She deserved to rot in the ground.

She deserved to have her bones buried in the dirt.

She.

Deserved.

To.

Die.

The vines of the entrance were pushed out of the way as Acacia, another dryad walked through. Ants crawled up and down her dark skin, and Caleen backed up without realizing it. "Come in!" An old woman called. Caleen wiped her sweaty palms on her dress before pushing through the thin, dangly vines.

The old woman sat in lotus position on a colorful mat of feathers and grass. Her brown skin was as twisty and knotted as the tree she belonged to. Her white hair was piled atop her head into a messy bun, one that looked so perfect, as if she'd spent hours on it. Her eyes were brown and set deep into her sockets. She was old as could be, but somehow still seemed youthful in her spirit. But oh, was she wise.

Caleen knelt in front of her. Methuselah dipped her thin, wrinkled fingers into a pot of honey before pressing it onto the younger dryad's forehead. Caleen closed her eyes, feeling the honey drip down, washing her skin of its sins. Methuselah nodded, and Caleen settled on the red and gold mat before the elder.

"Ah, Caleen," Methuselah said, clasping her hands together. "We haven't had a conversation like this in years."

"Almost two," Caleen said. Her voice was hoarse, and the words came out as a choked whisper.

Methuselah placed a golden hand on Caleen's. "That boy is no longer hurting, china doll."

"I know, I know," Caleen said, resting her head in her hands. "I've come for a different reason."

Methuselah nodded and reached into a small terra-cotta pot on her left and took a handful of dried marigold petals. She sprinkled them in a circle around the two of them before dipping her finger into oil into another bowl, dripping the liquid inside the circle as well. She rested her hands on her kneecaps before taking a breath and closing her eyes.

"I see a lock and a key," she said. Her eyes flickered underneath her lids. "The lock is rusted and isn't meant to be unlocked, but alas, it is."

Caleen felt her heart catch in her stomach. She already had a feeling what this was going to mean.

"Clawed hands unlock it, but do not pull it open. It's done to fool the others. She leaves." She takes another breath. Her hands shake a bit. "It's dark now. The lock is torn off. The hands are bigger than the ones prior. Masculine and human."

"Is it possible to zoom out?" Caleen whispered, to scared to know the truth.

Methuselah nodded. "I see a man. His eyes are emeralds. But they're cold." Caleen's hands began to shake. "He appears to be looking for someone."

Caleen felt her breath escape her throat. Methuselah opened her eyes, and Caleen put her face in her hands. What started as silent tears turned into full-on sobs that wracked her body. She cried until her throat was raw and her cheeks were red with emotion.

"He's coming back." Caleen looked up at the old woman. "He's coming back, isn't he?"

Methuselah looked at Caleen with sad eyes. "It appears that way, yes." Caleen cried harder, shaking violently. Methuselah rested a hand on her back. "It is okay, flower. He doesn't have to find you. Stay here, and he'll never hurt you."

"I can't stay here and hide," Caleen said. "I've done that my entire life. It's the only reason I survived and my siblings didn't." She wiped the tears from her eyes with shaky hands. "I can't hide anymore. I need to fight."

---

Holt strolled down the hallway, enjoying the fact that it was he who was out instead of Jackson. Ever since some lame project in Mr. Rotter's, he hadn't exactly gotten a chance to stretch out and move. Jackson had been so wrapped up in whatever the assignment was that he pushed Holt out of his list of priorities. But that didn't matter, since Holt was out now, calling the shots as he pleased.

As he turned his head to look at one of the clocks on the wall, he noticed a flash of blue and purple. He turned around completely and saw it was a set of wings. Odd, he thought, I didn't know any fairies went here.

Curiosity got the best of him, and he found himself peeking through the doorway to find the fairy girl sitting next to a girl with rainbow horns and wavy, blue hair. As he continued to gaze around the room, he noticed all sorts of monsters he'd never recognized. A brunette with the same rainbow horns as the other girl. A set of air-elemental twins, yet one with blonde hair and one with black hair. An angel boy. A demon girl. Two satyr brothers. How have I never noticed them before?

He looked around, trying to find anyone who could answer his questions. Finally, he settled on a certain centaur-harpy hybrid. "Did we get exchange students or something?" Holt asked Avea.

She shook her head. "No. Don't you remember?" Holt raised an eyebrow. "They're Deuce's siblings. They're alive." With that, she walked away.

"I didn't know he had siblings," Holt said to himself. "What did I miss?"

---

She walked up to the porch of the two story house. It was quaint and looked like a house one would find in a child's book. But she knew at a young age a house rarely meant a home. No need to get her hopes up.

The beige vinyl siding had the smallest smears of dirt caked into it, and the grass was freshly mowed. The bushes were recently trimmed, and the flowers weren't surrounded by weeds. Immediately, she knew this wasn't a house where neglect would be the main problem.

There were two people standing at the door. The first was a tall man with brown, curly hair and hazel eyes. The second was a woman with mousy hair and a face like a bird. Their features were sharp. Both were intimidating. She started to drag her feet, but the social workers kept pushing her forward.

She stopped at their feet. They gazed down upon her with tight smiles.

"Madeline Jayne, is it?" the woman asked. Her voice was stern and slightly raspy.

"It's Madison," she corrected.

"Right, of course." She grimaced slightly, and Madison saw her muscles tense. "You can put your stuff inside. There's a room waiting for you upstairs. You'll have to share. I hope you don't mind." Madison shook her head. The two stepped out of the way to allow her to enter the house, and they began to talk with the social workers. The staircase was easy to find, and she had no choice but to go up it. She entered the first door on the right, one with two twin beds and beige walls. A single window stood upright in the middle of the wall. She dropped her bag on one of the beds and sat down. She ran her fingers through her green snakes, leaning back onto the mattress. It was hard and uncomfortable. The entire house seemed foreign; this room was nothing different.

Almost immediately, a boy entered the room. He was about her age, maybe younger. He had dirty blonde hair and hypnotizing blue eyes. He stopped when he saw the gorgon in the room. "I didn't expect to see someone else in here," he said. "Certainly not a girl."

Madison scoffed. "Why not a girl?"

"Adults have a way of keeping people of the opposite sex far apart," he said. "Touching your pinkie nail results in you getting pregnant. Can't have that now, can we?" Madison laughed. She hadn't meant to so quickly, but it slipped. He settled beside her. "So what's your name?"

"Madison," she said. She pointed to the snakes that inched towards the boy's face. "As you can tell, I'm a gorgon."

"Elijah," the boy said. He pointed to his own hair. "As you can tell, I'm not." Madison laughed again. "Nah, I'm a human. Pretty boring. I'd kill to be a monster."

"It isn't all fun and games," Madison said. "People treat you like you're worth less than them because you look different."

"It's because we're jealous we don't have powers. But humans treat each other like that anyway, so what's new?" Elijah leaned back. "So what brings you here?"

"My dad and stepmom got arrested on neglect charges."

"And your ma?"

"Not allowed to see her."

"Man, that blows." She looked towards the boy. His eyes were full of sympathy, not pity. She respected him for that.

"What about you?" Madison asked. "Why are you here?"

"My parents died when I was six. Been tossed around the system like a sick game of hot potato since then." He stood up and walked to the other twin bed before reaching under the mattress and pulling out a picture. He returned to the gorgon, showing her the picture. It was of a beautiful couple. The woman was in her wedding dress, a thin veil draped over her stunning face. The man was in a tuxedo. Their faces glowed with happiness, without a care in the world. "This is all I have left of them."

"Life always seems to give the people who already have problems the bad portion of the crop, huh?" Madison said. Elijah laughed. It sent chills down Madison's arms, yet it warmed her heart.

"Ain't that the truth."

Madison gasped, cracking her head on the roof of the car. Deuce looked over at her, eyes wide.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice slightly more paranoid than usual.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she said, rubbing her head with her hand.

"Mock, are you sure?" Ianthe said. "You don't look too good."

"I'm fine," she said. "I promise." She looked out the window at the scenery that was quickly fleeting. "I promise."

---

Scarah found herself in the library with the book. She couldn't find peace and quiet with everyone's thoughts buzzing around her like angry hornets, so she decided on the silent room that no one visited unless they had a project.

Sitting in one of the plush chairs in the corner, she flipped the book open to the first page. She wanted answers to the mystery that was the existence of the Jayne children.

Each of them is dead. Was, she told herself. They're all alive now. They should't be, but they are.

Their deaths were violent, and most of their bodies ended up destroyed. Torn apart, bloody, electrocuted, burnt- you name it. Whatever Ghoulia had must've healed them as well as brought them back to their original state.

But if they're healed, how do some of them still have their wounds? Scarah thought. If they're truly healed, Madison shouldn't have the holes in her chest and back. Gwendolyn shouldn't have the bullet wound in her temple. They should be fine.

She put her head in her hands. It was becoming too much. She didn't even know why she cared so much; she never had before.

She just hoped she didn't worry herself over it. She promised Invisi Billy.

---

Holt went home to his and Jackson's bedroom. There were traces of both of them inside. There were books and records. A set of encyclopedias and a stereo. Posters of sci-fi movies that bored Holt to death and bands that made Jackson want to scream. Everything was a mixture of their personalities and was left exactly how Holt remembered it.

As he walked around the room, he noticed something he hadn't before: a notepad. He raised an eyebrow and picked it up, flipping through the pages and skimming through Jackson's chicken scratch.

There were names he didn't recognize, as well as descriptions of each said person. There was a page for each person. There were also pages for two prisoners, supposedly named "Mark Jayne" and "Marisa Pallen." Following their descriptions was a list of crimes. Holt knitted his eyebrows. Why would Jackson write this? He doesn't care about this stuff. Was this the project?

He continued flipping through the pages, reading the names that went with each. Gwendolyn. Gabriel. Jason. Iris. Evangeline. Finally, he stopped on a page. He couldn't do anything but stare at the name etched across the top.

Madison Gorgon.

---

"Do you have any nines?"

"Uh...no. Go Fish."

"F*ck! Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I don't have any nines."

"You're lying to me."

"I wouldn't lie to you."

"He wouldn't lie in general."

"Shut up, Ashton."

"I still don't have any. Pick up a card."

"Kira, is he lying?"

"No."

"You didn't even pick your head up to look!"

"When has Gabriel ever lied about something insignificant like a game of-"

"Exactly. He never has. Which is exactly why we wouldn't expect it and it'd be a sneak attack, so check his d*mn cards."

Kira rolled her eyes. It was times like these when the family was together and still felt apart. Caleen's anxiety ate into the others. When the dryad had a gut feeling, that feeling was rarely wrong. The others knew but could do nothing. In an attempt to get their minds off it, they decided on a card game.

"Gwen," Evangeline said, swallowing a bite of the apple in her hand, "It isn't that big of a deal." Yet, Gwendolyn looked at Kira pointedly, and the brunette checked the cards.

"He doesn't have any nines."

With that, Gwendolyn ripped the five cards out of Gabriel's hand. She looked at their paper faces before glaring at the angel.

"LIAR! You do have a nine!"

"No, Gwendolyn, that's a six."

"No, it's not!"

"Gwen..." Iris peeked out from behind the demon, looking at the cards from over her shoulder, "it's upside down." Gwendolyn flipped the desk over. The cards fell every which way, scattering across the floor. She sat back down and crossed her arms.

"This game is rigged," she said simply. Ashton scoffed.

The door suddenly flew open. The cards on the floor blew from the breeze the door caused. Madison stomped in, Deuce on her tail. Caleen ran in after them. She closed the door behind them before looking to her siblings. Their green eyes were all struck with panic.

"Bad news."

"Is there any good news to go along with it?" Ashton asked. Madison pushed through the others to stand in front of the satyr. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

"Now isn't the time for jokes!" She cried.

"Whoa, chill, chica, chill," Ashton said. "What happened?"

"What happened? What happened? Well, I'll tell you what happened. What happened is Mark's loose."

Evangeline choked on her apple. She coughed and coughed, but it was lodged in her throat. Jason ran up behind and began doing the Heimlich maneuver. It came out and hit Iris's foot.

"Ew, keep that slimy thing off me."

"Is she okay?"

"Mouth to mouth."

"Ew! Ashton! That's like, incest."

"Lacie, that's not-"

"Guys!" Deuce said, panic evident in his voice. "We're serious."

"Dad escaped prison!" Caleen yelped.

"How?" Gabriel all but shrieked. "That-that should be impossible!"

"Anything's possible," Roxie mumbled. "Especially in this family."

"The point is that we need to do something about it," Madison said. She paced back and forth, rolling her foot across the tile with each step. Heel. Arch. Ball. Toe. Heel. Arch. Ball. Toe. "Otherwise we could go out again. And this time, it won't be as easy as last time."

"Expect a Deuce level," Caleen whispered. "Minus the eight hours."

"Although he might push it that long," Deuce said. "Maybe longer." He sighed shakily. "I can't do that again."

Caleen turned to Madison, her meadow eyes sad. "I know you hate this," she said. "But I think we need to ask for help."

"NO!" Gwendolyn shouted. The others turned to look at her. Her green eyes were wide, popping against the black of her eyes. "There's thirteen of us plus Lamia, Seth, and Viperine. We don't need the help."

"But we do need the backup," Ianthe said.

"Caleen's right," Deuce said. "This isn't a battle. This is a war." He turned to look at Madison. "And we need an army to win it."

---

"Hey!" Heath huffed as he scurried down the hallway, chasing after the tall, cloaked figure. "W-wait up!"

"Heath Burns," Mr. Rotter said, turning around to face the fire elemental. "For the last time, there is no way to make up the final. The grade still stands. Now, if you excuse me, I have important matters to attend to." With that, Mr. Rotter turned away, walking down the corridor and leaving Heath panting in the middle of the floor. He knitted his eyebrows as he felt his stomach twist. Mom is going to kill me.

He walked past the lockers, dragging his hand along them and feeling the cold metal brush against his fingertips. He was already failing the class. He had hoped that the final could bring his grade up to at least a C, but the time slipped his mind. There was no way the grade was coming up now.

Suddenly, Heath was pulled from his thoughts and from the hallway. He felt something grab at his wrist, and before he knew it, he was yanked into a classroom. The lights were off, and all he could see was a dark figure, shorter than him with long fingers. The figure closed the door and flicked on the lights. Her orange hair swung as she turned to look at the fire elemental.

"Toralei?" Heath said. "What are you doing here? And what do you want?"

"I just need an itsy bitsy favor to ask of you," she purred. She stepped closer to him, laying her palm flat against his chest. He could feel her red nails stab him through his shirt. "Is that so hard to ask?"

"Well, I, um," Heath stuttered. He gently grabbed the wrist attached to the hand on his chest. He pulled it down, trying to get her off him. "I don't think I should-"

"Oh, but I know you're failing Mr. Rotter's class," Toralei said. She turned around so her back faced him. He couldn't see her smirk. "I can get that grade up if you only help me first."

He knew it was a bad idea, but that didn't stop him from perking up at the thought. "What do you need me to do?" Toralei reached into her pocket, pulling out a small, blue capsule. She put it in Heath's open palm. "What is this?" Heath inspected the blue pill, moving it around gently within his hand. "Viagra?"

"No! It's not Viagra!" Toralei rolled her eyes and looked back at Heath, who had his eyes glued to the pill. "It's medicine. I just need you to slip into that one girl's drink."

"Wait, what girl?"

"I don't know. Deuce's sister."

"Which one?"

"What?"

"What do you mean 'which one'? There's like thirty."

"The one with the colored hair."

"A lot of them have colored hair."

"The green hair, Heath! The green hair!"

"Two of them have-"

"HEATH!" Toralei yelled. Heath stepped back immediately. He pressed his back to the brick wall. "The one he cares about most. Madeline or something."

"Madison?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Put this in her drink. It'll dissolve." Heath looked closer at the pill, worry building up in his chest. Toralei noticed the rising guilt. "Heath, it's fine. I promise."

"What does it do?"

"It's just a pill. You know how she takes all those antidepressants and anxiety medicine and stuff, right?" Heath nodded. "Well, it's just like that. Just don't let anyone know you have it. Don't get caught with it. I won't bail you out."

"Alright. I'll do it."

"Don't let me down."

"I won't." Heath slipped the pill into his pocket before exiting the room.

Toralei grinned, her sharp pearly whites forming a tight, gruesome grin. Hook, line, and sinker.

---

The earth felt soft against his feet, and he'd wished he'd had the time to get some better shoes before making this trip. The tree branches sliced against his limbs, and the leaves brushed against his cheeks. No one usually ventured into these woods, but he still felt nervous. Bright orange wasn't exactly a color that camouflaged into surroundings very well. What he needed was a shot or two to calm his nerves.

No, he thought. I need to get this over with first. Then, I can have a drink.

He heard the crackling of leaves, and he froze. Didn't blink. Didn't breathe. His heart pounded in his chest. They found me.

A deer hopped out from behind the trees, staring at the man with wide eyes. He gritted his teeth in anger and decided it was fine to move. It took only seconds for the animal to disappear into the foliage.

He knew they were looking for him. And he didn't care. Not yet. He just needed to finish the job and go back to get Marisa. Then, they'd move a few states, far enough where the cops no longer recognized them. They could go under the radar. Live where no one knew they existed.

But what he really needed was a beer.

---

Ghoulia pushed her cat-eye glasses up as she continued to let her fingers dance across the laptop's keyboard. She'd been going at it for what felt like hours, trying to find something- anything- that could help with the current mission at hand. It was a life or death situation, and she knew it could cost people their lives. But as Cleo breathed down her neck, she continued to work, trying not to get distracted from the hushed chatter and the warm breath.

"Did you find anything yet?" Cleo asked. Her breath brushed Ghoulia's ear, and the zombie felt herself shiver.

"No, not yet," Ghoulia moaned. "We still have plenty of databases to cover, so don't expect the answer to be right in front of our faces."

"Maybe it is," Cleo said, "and we're just overthinking it." She chipped off the red nail polish on her thumbnail with her teeth. She turned to look towards Deuce, who was paler than usual and leaning back against a wall, more for support than for leisure. Seeing his anxiety made her turn away in an instant.

"How could he just...leave?" Frankie asked. "Isn't a jail supposed to be crowded with policeman and jailers and-"

"And people that don't know how to do their job correctly?" Jason cut off. "Yes, of course."

"But what a time to escape," Gwendolyn hissed. "It's not coincidence that he just so happened to leave prison the second we left the Other Side. Someone must've told him."

"I don't understand," Draculaura said, her usually cheery voice unnaturally troubled. "Who would do this?"

"Someone who doesn't like us," Madison said. She stopped pacing around the room to look at Draculaura with wide, emerald eyes. "Pretty long list. I don't know how far we can narrow it down."

"We have somewhere to start," Kira said. "Yet, everyone who despised us from the past isn't here. They're not really in our lives anymore."

"So who could have done it?" Lagoona asked.

"Anyone," Clawd said. "But they probably had a good reason. No one would just step into a jail to free a murderer simply because they felt like it. Especially if they knew the consequences."

The door swung open, and Lamia, Seth, and Viperine ran inside. In Lamia's arms was a folder, and she swung it onto the desk in front of them. She flipped it open and revealed a stack of paperwork.

"What is that?" Clawdeen asked. She peered over the shortest gorgon's shoulder. "And where did you get it from?"

"I have sources," Lamia said distractedly. She flipped through the pages, trying to find a specific one. "This one was Patrick."

"Patrick?" Jackson repeated. "Who's that?"

"A friend."

"A friend with benefits," Seth mumbled. Lamia ignored the comment and instead pulled out a paper from the stack. It was nothing but zeros and ones.

"How is this supposed to help us?" Cleo asked, yanking the paper from Lamia's hands. Lamia pulled it back.

"It will. I promise." She handed the paper to Ghoulia, who knew immediately what it was for. She began plugging the numbers into the computer. When it was finished, a page pulled up with a simple gray screen with a white bar in the middle of the page. It looked sketchy, but that didn't stop Lamia from typing in the password, a series of random letters and numbers, and hitting enter. When she did, she was welcomed with a list of dates and times.

"Please clarify," Operetta said. "What is this?"

Jackson leaned over Ghoulia's shoulder, his blues eyes lighting up with excitement. "It's a database of coding in which you can observe the cells from the jail's technologically-advanced-"

"In English please."

"It's the cameras," Lamia answered. "We're just watching the cameras." Ghoulia clicked on one of the times, but no one was seen in the hallway. "Control S-D speeds it up," Lamia said to Ghoulia, who nodded and pressed the buttons on the keyboard. The video sped up. A few people entered and exited the hallway, but no one stuck out to them. Until-

"What is Toralei doing there?!" Cleo shouted. She pushed Jackson out of the way to glare at the computer screen. The werecat leaned into the door, fidgeting with something on the door. She left the hallway just like the others. As the scene turned dark with night, the cell door pushed open, and the prisoner escaped.

Deuce felt his stomach twist and his heart pound against his chest harder and harder until he sat down in the closest chair. He put his head in his hands, feeling his head spin in circles, going nauseous with the thought of everything. The pictures around him blurred into each other, and he closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as tightly as possible. His throat went dry before he felt a hand on his back, manicured nails tracing lines across his skin through his shirt. He inhaled, trying to get as much oxygen as possible.

"It's fine," Iris said. "It's fine. It's fine. It's cool. Everything's a-okay, right? I mean, he doesn't know where we live or what school we go to."

"That's a good point," Ashton said, slapping Iris's shoulder. "He doesn't know where to find us."

"Except that he won't struggle," Cleo said, continuing to trace shapes into Deuce's shoulder. "It's pretty easy to point you guys out. Ah...no offense. But you're pretty hard to miss."

"Ooh! We could wear disguises!" Lacie said, intrigued by the idea of masquerading as someone else like an undercover agent.

"Or we could just fight back," Jason said. "I'm not hiding from that son of a b*tch."

"Well, I don't think fighting is necessarily the best option," Gabriel said. "I think we should lay low until-"

"Gabriel!" Gwendolyn shouted. "He's going to kill us! Hiding from him will do nothing, especially since we all know that he's impatient. The longer he waits, the worse it gets." She pointed at Deuce with her pinkie, as she had no index finger to point with on that hand. It was the same reddish-tan color as the rest of her, only bruised with purple thanks to her rough nature. "Look at Deuce. Mark told him the longer it took and the closer it was to the end of the month, the worse it would be. He didn't lie. He never lies when it comes to stuff like that."

"But we don't want to be the ones to start this," Evangeline said. "We know how the court treats monsters. If we so much as lay a finger on him, we'll be thrown in jail."

"But they're doing better with knowing who deserves what and when," Kira said. "If they see what he's done, what he plans to do, they'll put him back where he belongs."

"But-"

"Hey, guys!" Frankie shouted over the bickering. "Let's just put it to a vote. Everyone in favor of hiding, laying low, and waiting for the right time, raise your hand." Gabriel, Evangeline, Ianthe, Ashton, and Lacie raised their hands. "Okay, everyone in favor of fighting back to put a stop to all of this, raise your hand." Gwendolyn, Kira, Jason, Iris, and Madison raised their hands.

"Okay, some of you didn't vote!" Gwendolyn said pointedly. She glared daggers at the three who refused to take sides.

"I'm down with whatever," Deuce said, lifting his head out of his hands. "If you want to fight, I'm there. If not, I understand that too."

"I agree," Caleen said, nodding. "Neither are terrific plans, but we don't have the time to sit down and think of a real plan. I won't put up a fight if one side gets their way."

"Both sides are sh*t," Roxie said. She shrugged. "Waiting is just as dangerous as going after him ourselves. And I don't think anyone here respects that." She spun her finger in a small circle on the desk. Dust and dirt collected, forming a tornado a few inches tall and a few centimeters wide. It grew to the length of a pencil before she snapped, and it disappeared in the blink of an eye. Frankie saw this, and she felt her stomach twist as she remembered Caleen's words. She bit her bottom lip and turned away.

"We need a nice middle," Seth said. "How about we wait? We train. Find out what we plan on doing. Learn to fight without using our powers much- since we're monsters and the court will blame us for hurting a human. We practice and practice. And wait. And when Mark comes, we'll be prepared already. We fight with everything in us."

The room was silent for a minute, processing Seth's plan. Finally, Deuce nodded. "I'm good with that."

"It works."

"I like it."

"It's the best one we have."

"It's okay...I guess."

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

"Do you have a better plan?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then shut up."

"Both of you shut up."

"Ignore them. The plan's great."

"It's a happy medium. That's what matters."

"So are we all good?" Frankie asked.

"No." Everyone turned to look towards Madison. "How are we doing this? How do we plan on fighting? What's our strategy?"

"Some in front. Some in back," Lamia said. "Attack from all sides."

"But don't all come out at once," Iris said. Her finger mindlessly twisted around a blue lock of hair. "For dramatic purposes and in case someone gets hurt."

"We'll plan this out later," Ashton said. "We really just need to focus on learning how."

"We can practice after school," Viperine said. The group nodded in response.

Madison turned to Frankie and her team. "You guys don't have to fight if you don't want to." Her voice didn't waiver. She didn't sound scared or frightened. Yet, Deuce knew she was. She was an even bigger actress than Iris. She'd learned to pretend all her life, and now was no different. "We won't judge you if you back out."

"But you're our friends." Frankie smiled. "And that's what friends do."

---

As the bell rang and dismissed the class, Heath was the first one out of the room. Lunch was next, and he needed to commit to the promise. He felt bad about it, but he'd feel worse if he went home with an F. Heath's palms got sweaty as he saw Deuce walk alongside Madison and Ianthe in the crowd. He looked at the middle triplet's chest, and seeing the wide, gaping hole above her left breast made him feel nauseous. He closed his eyes, pretending not to stare as they walked past him. Once they were a good ways down the hallway, he put his hand into his pocket, trying to feel for the pill. He moved the fabric from side to side, touching the seams and the corners. But it was gone. He couldn't feel it anywhere. Panic rose in him as he viciously dug through his jeans' pocket. The left. Then the right. Then the left again. His heart beat faster and faster. It dropped to his stomach when he felt a hole in his pocket.

Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. He looked up and down the hallways, trying to find the blue pill on the floor. With all the people in the hallway, it was difficult. Heath bent closer to the ground and hurried along the outskirts of the hallway. His eyes danced across the floors, picking up every little detail it had to offer. A penny. A scratch. A gum wrapper. A chip bag. A paper ball. But no pill.

Finally, he saw it. His heart leapt out of his chest, and he all but ran to the floor. The second he got there, a werewolf boy crushed it unknowingly with his foot. Heath's eyes widened, his heart sinking. He fell to his knees and stared at the blue powder on the floor. Toralei's gonna kill me.

Not knowing what else to do, he attempted to brush the blue dust into his palm with his fingers. It stuck to his fingers, and he knew he got dirt in it as well, but it didn't faze him. She'll never know, right? Suddenly, a skeleton boy looked at Heath with an odd face, seeing the fire elemental on his hands and knees on the floor. Heath caught sight of this and turned his head to look at the boy. His eyes were wide, and his jaw was dropped.

"I, uh, just...trying to find my contact!" Heath lied. The skeleton continued giving him the look, but he walked away. Heath wiped the imaginary sweat off his forehead before standing up, his hand still cupped and holding the blue powder. Hopefully, this would still work.

---

"I just don't understand how someone can be so caught up in...nothing!" Draculaura flipped the page of the magazine. "She's a die hard fan and all, but still! The pictures are getting creepy, and not in a good way."

"You can't expect much," Clawdeen said. She stabbed a piece of broccoli with the plastic fork. She took note of how her purple nail polish was chipping and needed some TLC and a nice manicure.

"But you can expect better pictures," Frankie said. "If she has so many, you'd think she has the practice."

"Not true," Cleo objected. "You'd be surprised."

"He not even attractive!" Abbey said, looking at Draculaura's magazine. Draculaura spit out her green smoothie in shock, and it landed on Cleo's grapes. Cleo squealed and pushed them to the side, where they rolled off the table and fell onto Frankie's lap. Deuce chuckled and stood up to go get napkins.

Madison stared off into space, her eyes staring forward at the wall. She was lost in thought. Her mind wouldn't settle.

"ANSWER ME!" She ducked as a glass was thrown at her. It smashed against the wall, and wine stained the walls. "HUH? ANSWER ME!" She lunged under the table, and she felt the man- her foster father- drag the furniture away. The plates and cups smashed to the floor in the process. A butter knife landed inches from her foot. She closed her eyes and covered her head with her hands, trying to receive some form of protection- even if was a mediocre attempt.

She felt him grab her by her snakes, which hissed and nipped at his fingers. He yanked her up. Her scalp burned, but the pain was tolerable compared to the rest. He slammed her up against the wall, leaning into her face. She muttered apology after apology, but nothing sufficed. Nothing stopped the harsh words that lashed out at her, slitting her cheeks like knives.

She looked down to see Elijah on the floor. He was unconscious. Blood poured from his mouth, which was wide open. His eyes remained unclosed, and a bruise began forming on his right cheekbone. Her heart ached for him, but there was nothing she could do for him.

She could only fend for herself.

"Madison?" The gorgon looked towards the sound of the voice. Clawdeen stared at her, curiosity written all over her face. "Uh...you okay, ghoul?"

"What?" She threw her crumpled napkin in her lap. "Oh, yeah. Of course."

"You seemed a little off there..." The wolf said. "If you need anything, let us know."

"Okay."

"No, I'm serious." Clawdeen's golden eyes bored into her own. "If you need anything- anything at all...you let us know." Madison nodded.

"Oh no," Frankie said, rolling her eyes. "Here comes-"

"Heath Burns," Heath said, skidding over to the group, "at your service." He grabbed Gwendolyn's hand, which was becoming hotter and hotter with each second. "Hey, baby. Did you fall from heaven? Because you-"

"No, I crawled my way up from hell." Heath's face dropped, and Gwendolyn ignored it. She grabbed her fork and picked up a piece of pork. "Now, get lost before I make you leave myself."

"Come on, baby," Heath coaxed. "I know your skin may be warm, but your heart is warmer." Gwendolyn jabbed the fork into his arm, and Heath shrieked, running off to the other side of the table. Gwendolyn acted like it was nothing, simply rolling her eyes and sitting back down. She licked the blood off the prongs and continued eating her lunch.

When Heath made it to the other side, he felt his hands grow clammy. Madison sat in front of him. He didn't realize how beautiful she was until he really got a close up. Her face was heart-shaped with flawless skin that looked soft as silk. Her raspberry lips were full and pouty with a slight cupid's bow. Her nose was pert, and her green snakes framed her face like an angel's halo. But most of all, he found himself staring into her contact-covered eyes. The liveliest of green. Bright and vibrant with snake-slit pupils that spoke of mysteriousness. He felt his mouth go dry.

"I, uh, I-"

"Go away, Heath," Cleo said, rolling her eyes.

"Are you a campfire?"

"Heath..." Clawdeen pressed.

"Cause you're hot and I want s'more." Madison just looked at him, looking bored out of her mind.

"That wasn't that good of a pickup line."

"Okay, well, how about this one? We're not socks. But I think we'd make a great pair." Still, he received nothing. "I ain't no hipster, but I can make your hips stir." Again, Madison looked stultified. She reached for her cup and took a long, slow sip of the water inside. It was only then he remembered his mission. "Hey, let me see that," he said, pointing to her cup.

"Why?" Madison asked, raising an arched brow.

"Just let me-"

"Heath." Heath jumped a foot into the air, falling into Deuce, who was standing behind him. "Stop flirting with her."

"I...I wasn't..."

"Just go!" Cleo shouted.

Without a word, Heath left. I need to find a way to get this in her drink.

As Deuce sat back down in his seat, Heath sat at the table across from them next to a group of nerds, each looking mighty surprised that the fire elemental took a seat next to them.

Hey, uh, guys?" The geeks all looked up towards him, their eyes wide with surprise and confusion. Not only was the class clown sitting with them, but he was also talking to them as well. "How would I sneak a drug into some girl's drink?" One of the nerd girls squealed and ran off, one of her cheap pink flip-flops almost falling off on the way to the bathroom. "Was it something I said?"

---

Madison stepped into the band room, inhaling the smell of old brass, fresh reeds, and spit. It was a pungent scent that she'd grown to love over the years of being in the music production. Sitting in one of the chairs, she carefully unlatched the black case and opened it to reveal a shiny silver instrument. She lifted it up gently. She'd forgotten how heavy it was, but that didn't stop her from resting it on her lap. She slid the heavy mouthpiece in and put her lips to the metal.

"I didn't know you could play baritone." Madison turned to look at the boy in the band room. His hair was made completely of fire, and his blue skin contrasted against the warm colors of the flames. His clothes were mismatched to the point where they were almost tacky, but they seemed to fit him.

"Holt Hyde," Madison said, letting out a grin. "I was wondering how long it'd take to finally meet you in person."

"How do you know my name?" Holt said. He didn't say it in a way that seemed cautious and worried. Instead, it was welcoming yet curious. "It wasn't that dweeb, Jackson, was it?"

"Nah," Madison said. "I've just got a way with names. Holt smirked, grabbing a trumpet and taking a seat next to the gorgon.

"So what brings you here?" He asked. "I don't think I've seen you around."

"I'm Deuce's sister."

"Huh. Didn't know he had one."

"You probably know less about him than you think." She smiled. "But hey, who doesn't?"

"That's probably true." Holt returned it. The blue of his skin made his teeth appear whiter. "It's good to have some secrets."

"Maybe."

"So what's your name?"

"Madison Gorgon."

Holt grinned. "I can remember that."

---

Lagoona hurried down the hall, her wedges clicking against the tile. "Gil!" She called. The water monster turned around to look at her before stopping to wait for her. "Is everything okay?" She asked as they continued to walk now that she was at his side.

"Yeah," Gil said. "Why?"

"I don't know. You just seem sort of...distant."

"I'm probably just tired."

"You weren't like this until the new blood showed up."

"Ashton's in my second period." Gil smiled. "He's draining."

"At least he's fun to be around," Lagoona said. They walked in silence for a moment before Lagoona spoke again. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"I just feel like something's bothering you." She stopped to look at him. Her eyes seemed sad, which he noticed.

"Deuce is one of my best bloodies," Gil said. "I feel kinda...betrayed...that I didn't know about any of this."

"I knew something was bothering you!" Lagoona said.

"Well..." Gil said.

"But no one knew about Deuce," she said. "Not Clawd, not Jackson, not even his own ghoulfriend!" Lagoona laid a webbed hand on her boyfriend's shoulder. "Don't feel upset about it. He kept it a secret from everyone, not just you."

"I guess." Gil looked down. "Still sucks to know he doesn't trust us."

"It's not that, I can assure you that much," Lagoona said. "With Spectra floating around, rumors were sure to start. Deuce never liked being a part of that."

"Good point."

"Don't be upset," Lagoona said with a smile. "It'll all work out in the end."

---

"No way!" Holt yelled. "That movie is so lame!"

"No, it's not!" Madison laughed, smacking Holt gently with the sheet music.

"Yeah, it is. It's so gross."

"It was award-winning, and actions speak louder than words, so hmph! In your face!"

Heath heard the laughter from down the hallway, and it wasn't hard to know who was in the room. He was grateful that their newfound friendship served as a distraction, but something about it felt wrong. But that didn't stop him from squeezing though the door and sneaking across the room, back against the wall. Heath spotted Madison's book bag against the back leg of her chair. A sweat broke out as he inched towards the two, thankful that the band room floor was carpeted to muffle the sound of his shoes.

"How many awards did Les Misérables win? Huh? Go on. Name some."

"Okay, how about the Academy Award for Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role? Anne Hathaway won it for the movie. Golden Globes. Best Motion Picture. Oh! And how about the tons for best costumes and hair and makeup and-"

"Okay! You win!" Madison smiled victoriously. "But I still don't like the movie."

"Whatever."

Finally, Heath made it to the row behind Madison and Holt. The gorgon's book bag leaned against the leg of the chair, and Heath moved like a snail in order to not get caught. When he reached the strap, he dragged it closer gently, careful not to make a sound. Luckily for him, it was already unzipped and in it, he spotted two water bottles- both opened. Before he had time to regret it, he grabbed the first one he saw and unscrewed the cap. He dusted the blue contents into the bottle, and just as Toralei had said, it disappeared on contact, disintegrating into the liquid. He twisted the lid back on and gently returned the water bottle to the book bag before sneaking back out of the band room. The second the door closed, a wave of guilt rushed over him. I truly am a monster.

---

"If we want to beat him, we need to train," Lamia said. She swung a knife a good yards away at a monster reading a book. The knife hit the tree he was leaning against, missing his ear by a centimeter. The monster looked up, fear etched across his face. "Rule One." Lamia looked back to the monsters who were all standing in a row. "Never ever let your guard down."

"And be prepared at every side," Seth said. "They can come at any angle and at any time."

"Never show your weakness," Deuce said.

"But don't show your strengths first either," Seth said. "Where's the fun in that? You need that element of surprise. That's a strength on its own."

"And remember that no one is truly on your side," Madison said.

"Look at Italy in World War I," Lamia added.

"Don't try to hide," Deuce said.

"And when you stab," Madison said, "drag the blade down and twist as you remove."

"See?" Lamia said. "It's not hard. Common sense, really." She pointed the Draculaura. "So what can you do?"

"Well...uh, you see..." Lamia raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a huge fighter."

"Perfect. Nice to know you care."

"We can have some people that can take care of the wounded," Gabriel offered. "I'm not a huge fighter myself, but I've got a knack for healing. That'll be pretty helpful."

"Alright fine," Lamia said. "Pansies can be with Gabe." Gabriel stared at her, his jaw dropped.

"Hey, I'm not a pansy!"

"You're right. You're a p*ssy."

As Gabriel and Lamia bickered and as the rest of them settled business, Madison felt her mind wandering to that specific memory once more. She tried to pull away, but she just couldn't stop it from replaying like a broken record.

After an hour, her foster father let them go back upstairs. Madison helped Elijah up the stairs, as he was too weak to go up them without assistance. They got to the room, and Madison let go off him to shut and lock the door. He reached under the mattress and pulled out the picture of his parents. He touched their smiling faces gently with his fingertips. With nothing left to do with himself, Elijah fell to the floor on his knees. He fell forward, landed on his face, and cried. It was the worst noise she'd ever heard. So full of pain and agony. He was too young to know pain like that. But alas, life works in strange ways.

She put her hand on his back, rubbing it only on the spots she knew weren't bruised. He looked up at her, his eyes watery and so full of torment. She saw the blue flash emerald green. His pupils were slits for only a split second. She suddenly felt sick.

"You remind me of my brother, you know that?"

"You have a brother?" He asked, wiping his tears.

She nodded. "Yeah." She couldn't meet his eyes. "I do."

"What's he like?"

"Too good for the world," she answered truthfully. "He's so sweet. So loyal. So calm through everything. He's funny and can sing and cook and is an all-around great person. He's my triplet. Well, twin if you don't count the other. So we've always been close."

"What happened to him?" Elijah's tears had stopped by now. He was too focused. Too caring. Just like Deuce.

"We got separated. He's in a boys' home miles away. St. Judas, I think it's called." The words hurt to say. They felt forced. But they were also a weight lifted. It felt better to tell Elijah. Or tell anyone, for that matter.

"You should go find him one day," he said.

"I will," Madison said. "One day."

"Madison, are you even listening to me?"

"Huh? What?" The others giggled as Lamia rolled her crystal eyes.

"And this brings us to our next rule." Lamia grabbed Maddie's face with her thumb on Maddie's left cheek and her index finger on her right cheek. "Don't let your mind wander in the middle of a fight."

"I'm sorry, okay?" She said. "It won't happen again."

"This has been happening a lot," Ianthe said. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine! I promise!"

"Maybe it's like a part of your PTSD," Seth said. "Blanking off at random times."

"No, it's not that. It's okay. Really, it is."

"This can't happen during the fight," Lamia said. "You're sure to get a blade right," the white-haired gorgon put a knife up against Madison's stomach gently, "here." She removed the blade from her cousin's torso. "And you're one of our strongest fighters. We can't have you going out that easily."

"I know, I know." Madison closed her eyes. Lamia knitted her eyebrows and turned away.

"Alright." She handed Cleo the knife. "Show me why Deuce chose you."

"Certainly not for my fighting skills," Cleo said, looking down at the knife in her hand. Lamia shrugged.

"Cleo fights more with her words than weapons," Frankie said.

"Well, excuse me for telling the truth, but words will get you nowhere in this," Lamia said.

"Not true," Deuce said. "Words can hurt way more than-"

"Okay, shut up. We don't need your input." Deuce rolled his eyes. "But still." Her eyes met Cleo's. "Throw the blade."

Cleo tore her eyes away from the sharp silver. "Where?" Lamia pointed to the tree, where the monster who'd been reading had long gone. Cleo took a deep breath, steadied her shaking hands. She lifted her arm and threw the knife. It stuck into the tree, a few inches from a heart that had been carved by two lovebirds. Lamia nodded.

"Not bad," she said. "Not bad at all. With a little more practice, you'll get the heart."

Cleo released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She hoped she wouldn't have to kill anyone. Not like her family had centuries again.

---

He tapped his toe on the carpet. He knew that name. Madison Gorgon. But where? He hit the pen in his hand against the notebook in his lap. The metal spirals clinked against the plastic cap. He saw it on the notebook, and that was the name that girl gave, but he knew he heard it before that. Something was missing, but he didn't know what.

"Holt?" He looked up and saw Operetta leaning against the doorframe, her eyes glued to his. "What you stressing about, sugar?"

"Stressing?" Heath said, forcing a laugh. "I ain't stressing."

"Uh huh. And I'm a shapeshifting, pink elephant that travels with the circus." The phantom took a seat beside her friend. "What's wrong?"

"I feel like I know something about that girl Madison, but I don't know what. And I know I can help, but I don't know how."

"Don't get yourself choked up about it." Operetta put her hand on Holt's shoulder. "It'll come to you eventually. But in the meantime, you have other things to worry about."

"Yeah, you're right," Holt said. He sighed. "But I feel like there's something important I need to tell you. It's on the tip of my tongue, but I don't know what it is."

"If it's meant for us to know, you'll remember." Operetta stood up. "Now, c'mon. I just got me a new set of keys and I'm just dying to try them out!"

---

The girl heard voices coming from the edge of the forest, and she recognized them almost immediately. As curiosity got the best of her, she climbed one of the trees and hopped from one branch to the the next until she could clearly see the group of monsters.

She recognized about half of them, but there were more she'd never seen in her life. A lab creation. Werewolves. A vampire. A zombie. A mummy. A phantom. A yeti. A sea creature. And...a human? Odd, but not impossible.

Everyone else she recognized. She remembered their faces like the back of her hand. But one thing she'd never realized became evident:

They all had green eyes.

But she didn't.

Every one of them had the emerald green eyes that linked them together and let people know they were family. But her eyes were violet. A purple that contrasted so deeply against her ivory skin that it was hard to believe she was one of them.

She always wished her eyes were the emerald green that they all had. She wanted to let them know that she was a part of them. But she decided it was better not to focus on things she couldn't change.

She peered out from behind her voluminous black curls. One day, she'd meet them. But until then, she didn't mind hiding in the shadows.

---

Scarah looked down at the book in her lap. As she flipped through the pages, it felt like nothing made much sense. She knew that spirits were those who died peacefully and ghosts were those who died suddenly, but coming back to life the same monster you were? It was unheard of. Ghoulia really must've done a number on them.

Suddenly, the banshee felt the room lower a few degrees in temperature. The air smelled like vanilla and sugar. "I know you're there, Spectra." The ghost appeared instantly, her pale, haunting face framed by her voluminous purple waves.

"I'm sorry!" She said, her high-pitched voice barely piercing Scarah's ears. "I didn't mean to bother you. I was just curious. I'll just be leaving now."

"Wait, hold on, Spectra!" The ghost froze. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she said, raising an eyebrow, "about what?"

"Is it possible to die and come back as your original form?" Spectra thought for a moment before shaking her head.

"Not that I know of."

"Oh."

"Is this about the new students?"

"Yeah," Scarah said as she let out a sigh. "I feel like it's important to know, but it seems impossible."

"The project is over," Spectra said. "Why does it bother you?"

"It doesn't really bother me, per se. It's just interesting. It should be impossible! I guess that's what makes it so intriguing."

"We're monsters," Spectra said. "We always do the impossible."

"That's what Invisi Billy said," the banshee said, smiling without knowing it.

Spectra settled beside Scarah and ran her ghostly fingers through the banshee's thick, black hair. "Ghoulia's a wiz in all the subjects. That includes chemistry. She knows how to accomplish even more impossible things than most monsters do." She stood up. "It's nothing to worry about really."

"But if they aren't ghosts or spirits," Scarah asked, "then what are they?"

"Monsters. Just like us."

---

Roxie spun her finger in her finger in a circle on the desk. She watched as the dust and dirt collected, spiraling into a skinny tornado the size of her index finger. She could faintly make out the whispering behind her. She didn't have to look to know they were pointing at her. She didn't have to strain to hear to know they were talking about her. She was used to it by now, and therefore, paid it no more attention than the teacher in the front of the room, who she didn't even bother to learn the name of.

She knew what it was about too. It was always the same topic. If you and Alessia are twins, then how come you don't look alike? How come she's so much prettier? How come she's nicer? Why can't you be like her, Roxanne?

The air elemental rolled her eyes, the same ones that her sister had. I'm sorry that I'm not perfect, she thought. I'm sorry that Lacie and I aren't the same person, so stop acting like it. Having a twin doesn't mean sharing a brain.

She loved Lacie; really, she did. But she hated being compared to her. Whenever Lacie was around, everyone would pay attention, but as for Roxie, they wouldn't bat an eye. They wouldn't even talk to her, and if they did, it was to ask why she wasn't more like her sister.

The tornado inched higher and higher. It marked yet another difference between the two.

She heard her mother's voice through the students' voices. "Roxie, why can't you be more like your sister? She's always been such a good girl. Why can't you be?" It only got worse after her twin died, and it wasn't long until she snapped.

The tornado knocked the paper off her desk. Roxie sighed. How much longer until this class ends?

---

Holt rocked back and forth, letting the music take control of him. His toe tapped against the carpeted floor, and he nodded with the beat. As his headphones blasted the peppy music, he let it envelop him, wrap him in each measure.

Suddenly, he dropped the headphones. His eyes widened, and his jaw laid slack. Madison Gorgon. She was in Music Festival. She won consecutively for seven years before winning four more times at county, state, nationals, and tiebreaker. Her group was well known for beating out the others in multiple competitions, although they were younger than everyone else. They were legends. She was a legend.

Until they stopped.

Right before they were going to the international competition, they withdrew. Deuce withdrew, Holt thought. He said an accident occurred, and they wouldn't participate.

That was the last time anyone heard from them.

Holt felt his mind swam. They backed out because Madison died. They declined everything because they knew how much it meant to Madison, and they wouldn't do it without her. They did it because of her.

He put his head in his hands. It all clicked. Everyone at the competition knew the story of how she rose to fame- it was told every year when the competition started. Yet, no one knew why they stopped so suddenly.

It was all so clear now.

Holt shook his head and stood up. I just need to go get some water, he thought. Something.

---

Madison pulled out her notebook and pencil. She really needed to get started on her project. She tapped the pencil's eraser on the notebook, trying to wrack her brain for a good introduction.

Suddenly, she felt her fingers let go of the pencil. It dropped to the floor. Bounced once. Bounced twice. She could hear it against the floor. Every little noise seemed louder. She heard whispering, but no one was in the room with her. It started out muffled, but it grew clearer and clearer until she could make out the words.

"I'm so sick." Madison raised an eyebrow as she looked towards him. He ran his fingers through his dirty blonde hair. "I'm so sick of staying here," he said. "Of this place. Of these people that only keep us for the d*mn money. Of everything." He got off the bed and grabbed a candle off the dresser. He screamed and threw it against the wall. The glass broke. Millions and millions of shards. But the wax remained intact.

He stared at the wall and the floor. The broken shards of glass that would never be picked up. "I can't," he said. "I can't do it."

They sat in silence for a moment, both just needing the time to think. Suddenly, Madison stood up, her legs shaking as she got off the bed.

"I have a proposal." Elijah looked at her questioningly. "I say we get back at them."

He stood up to meet her height. "You...you don't mean..."

"We get them back for everything they've ever done to us and everyone else." Her breath shook, but his stilled. He was listening to every word. "We leave. Plan. Get supplies. Live a little bit before the big night."

"And then?" He asked.

"And we are going to return." She stared at him, her emerald eyes cold with hate. "And we are going to burn.

"That.

"F*cking.

"House.

"To the ground."

---

The trees began to fade into each other. She ran quicker and quicker, trying to escape the cries she spent her whole life hiding from.

"¿Dónde están a mis hijos?" The woman cried. "Mis hijos!"

The girl ran quicker, trying to cover her ears. The screams were horrible. They were the cries of death.

Her feet pounded against the dirt, darting faster and faster away from the woman who she'd learned to despise. The woman who had drowned her. Just like she'd drowned her brothers in a fit of rage and jealousy.

She looked behind her to see if the woman was on her tail. It was only then that she felt herself collide with something, and she fell to the ground. She lifted her head, and her eyes met those of a man in his forties. His hair was mousy brown, and he had a cleft chin. He had thick, arched eyebrows that framed his face, as well as stubble laced on his cheeks and chin. But the most noticeable thing was his eyes. Green as could be. Greener than all the world's emeralds and meadows and grasses and plants. But they were cold as ice.

He looked at her in horror before running off the other way, and although he was clothed in bright orange, he disappeared into the trees.

She couldn't help but look back to the man she'd barely remembered. "Papá?"

---

Ianthe tapped her pen against the notebook, listening to the clock tick as time passed. She turned to Madison, who sat beside her.

"This class seemed a lot more interesting in the other side," she whispered.

"Yeah, I don't know why we did that," Madison said.

"It was cool to take the classes without having to get graded," Ianthe responded. "And we're caught up to our own age group, so that's pretty great."

"I guess." Madison slumped back into her seat. "The class still sucks though."

"It's our last period. We're doing training again after school today."

"Oh, yeah. Forgot about that."

Ianthe rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Hey, do you have my water?"

"What?"

"The one you told me you'd hold on to?"

"Oh, yeah!" Madison reached into her bag and pulled out one of the water bottles. She checked the label, where she saw a small 'I' written next to the nutrition facts label. She handed it to her sister.

"Thank you!"

"No problem."

---

His hands shook as he dialed the number into his cell phone. His breath was just as shaky, and he tried to steady it as he heard the rings. The first ring. The second. The third.

On the sixth ring, the person on the other end picked up. "Hello. This is Wednesday Barren. How can I help you?"

"Hey, Wednesday. This is Holt Hyde." He took a deep breath. "I have something to tell you about Madison."

---

"Deep breath in," Deuce said. Cleo felt his warm breath on the shell of her ear. It sent chills down her spine. "Loosen your grip a bit. Don't be so tense." She complied, and loosened her grip. "Good. Keep your eyes focused on the target." She stared ahead at the red circles painted a long ways in front of her. "Go."

The arrow flew from the bow like a swordfish through the ocean. It cut through the air like a knife and landed perfectly in the target, the painted circles on the tree. Deuce grinned and kissed her neck in the spot that he knew made her weak to the knees. She groaned slightly and leaned back against him.

"You're doing a lot better, Cleo," Seth said, grinning at the mummy. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you knew how to do this before."

"And bows are good, since you can get a low of distance without sparing your weapon," Madison said. "I prefer a knife, but that means it's all close-contact if you don't want to risk throwing your knife and either losing it or missing the intended target. Bow will be better for you."

"Can we work on hand-to-hand combat?" Lagoona asked. "I feel like we all need to work on that a little more."

"Of course!" Madison said.

"Well, who's up first?" Clawd asked, rolling up his sleeves.

"Ooh!" Frankie said, raising a mint hand in the air. "Pick me!"

Seth laughed. "Alright, alright. We can pair Frankie with Ianthe."

"That sounds good," Madison agreed, nodding.

Frankie and Ianthe stepped in the middle of the circle formed by the group. They lifted their fists into the correct positioning before Frankie stepped first, taking the first swing. Ianthe stepped out of it, dodging it gracefully.

Suddenly, she felt her head start spinning. Her vision began getting foggy, transitioning between all black and all white. As Frankie swung again, she didn't step out of the way and landed a punch to the chest. The gorgon fell to the ground, coughing violently. Her vision kept fading, and she felt nauseous almost instantly. She couldn't see the monsters around her, but she could feel them, grabbing at her arms, putting fingers to her neck and wrists, and trying to keep her upright. Ashton and Lacie tried to get her to sit up and put her head between her knees, but she fought them, albeit weakly. She wanted nothing more than to just lay down and sleep.

"Ianthe!" She heard Deuce yell for her, but he sounded so distant. "Violet, open your eyes. Look at me, Vi." But she couldn't. It felt like weights were laying on her eyelids. They were so heavy, and she didn't want to tear her eyes open. She felt herself press up against someone- who she suspected was Deuce, and she laid against him.

"What's wrong with her?"

"Is it the heat?"

"It's like, sixty degrees out!"

"Okay, so?"

"Maybe she's overexerting herself."

"I don't know."

"Do you think she needs a hospital?"

"No idea."

She couldn't decipher the muttering around her, and all the voices seemed to swarm together. She felt bile rise to the back of her throat. She felt it lurch up, and she pushed herself aside, away from everyone else, before throwing up into grass. It was sour and bitter, and everything burned. But most noticeably, it was blue.

"Meow..." The group looked up to see Toralei stroll over, her tail swinging behind her. "What do we have here?"

"Go away, Toralei," Clawdeen snapped. "Now's not the time for your-"

"Hey, I just wanted to see what all the commotion was about!" Toralei defended. "Shame you lost your best fighter right before the big-" She cut herself off, seeing that the gorgon didn't have the most noticeable difference between the identical set of triplets: the hole in her chest.

Toralei screamed. She stomped at the concrete. "HEATH!"

Heath stumbled out of the school, down the steps, and into the courtyard. "Y-yes?"

Toralei pointed a finger towards Ianthe, who had by now passed out cold into her brother's lap. "What is the meaning of this?" She grabbed the fire elemental by the collar of his shirt, yanking him towards her. "You had one job! One!" She dropped him to the ground. "And you couldn't even do that right!"

"There were two water bottles!" Heath cried. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Wait, what?" Clawd all but yelled. "What did you do?"

Toralei smirked evilly. "As you all know, dear old Dad escaped prison a few days ago. Surely, you knew that. I figured you could use a little...boost...per se, to help you." She glared at Heath. "Until this fool screwed it up for me!"

"What did you give her?" Jason asked, his voice seeming to get even deeper with anger.

"Just a little pill," Toralei answered, shrugging. "It was supposed to go to Madison, over here. But beggars can't be choosers, I guess."

Madison's eyes lit up in fury, and she lunged towards the werecat. Clawd and Seth held her back, knowing the gorgon would tear out her throat if she laid her hands on her. "You're sick!" Madison cried. She spit on the orange werecat.

Toralei rubbed the saliva off her cheek. "Should've let me talk during the project, Deuce. This is all your doing." Deuce paled at her words. She smiled tightly. "Have a nice day now." And with that, she walked away.

Ianthe rolled onto her side, coughing but never opening her eyes. Madison laced her fingers into her sister's snakes.

"Alright, that's been enough training for the day," Seth said. He sighed. "We should all probably get some rest."

"Yeah," Frankie said, slumping against a tree. "That sounds good."

---

The weight of the gas can felt heavy, but she knew the burden would be heavier. The night was cold, yet the chill wouldn't last long. Her feet sank into the dirt and dry grass, which she knew would help the walls burn quicker. Hopefully before the firemen showed up. Hopefully before the neighbors heard the screams.

The two stopped. Madison put down the gas can near her feet. She looked to her left to see Elijah staring at the house. His eyes were lost. Unfocused. Apathetic.

"What's the plan?" He said, continuing to stare at the building.

"We go in through the side door- the one that's always unlocked," she said. "We soak the top floor first, then the ground level. We leave the house together. When we're both out, we light the match. We throw one on each side of the building, then make a run for it. We'll be gone before anyone knows it was us." Elijah nodded, letting the words sink in. They were going to do this. They were going to burn down the house. They were going to commit arson. They were going to commit murder.

Elijah turned to her. His eyes reflected the stars in the sky. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Madison sighed. She didn't. She wanted to back out. She wanted to kneel on the cold earth and beg for forgiveness for even conjuring up this insane idea. "Yes," she said. "I'm sure."

The two disappeared through the side door before making their way up the stairs, tiptoeing as silently as humanly possible. They split up. Madison started with their bedroom. She soaked the floors. The walls. The books on the shelves. The blankets on the mattresses. The dressers. The little that they had. She moved to the hall next, then the bathroom. She paid special attention to the possessions made of paper. The portraits and posters. The origami crane that sat so peacefully on the top of the doorframe, left by the one of the foster children that lived here prior. Her gas can was half empty when she met up with Elijah again. His eyes were full of malice and excitement as they crept into the master bedroom.

Their sleeping faces would haunt her forever. They'd wake up to the smell of their bodies burning. They'd wake up to the sound of their spouse screaming. Or maybe they wouldn't wake up at all. Maybe they'd sleep right through the flames. They'd get a sample of hell before witnessing the real deal. Madison closed her eyes as she drenched their bedroom. Elijah took care of the blankets and sheets that cocooned the couple- the couple that was supposed to take care of them. Unlike her, he felt no pity. Unlike her, he felt no mercy. Unlike her, he would love every second of their pain.

They made their way downstairs, where they split off again. Madison took the kitchen, the office, the living room. She dumped the contents of the gas can on the antique mahogany desk she loved. She and Eli carved their names in the bottom, just like all the other foster children who'd lived there had done. Jack, Mercedes, Israel, Harper, Destiny, Kendall, Ariel, Grace, Cole, Caleb, Elijah, Madison. There were twelve names. Just like the twelve siblings she had from her paternal side: the half siblings, the full siblings, the stepsisters. She tried not to think about it. Elijah took the halls, the guest room, the dining room. He finished earlier than her. He leaned against the doorframe, watching Madison pour the remaining bit of gasoline on the couch cushions. She hurried back to the kitchen, turning the gas on the stove, but not lighting the flame. The two left the building, and Elijah emptied his fuel on the sides of the house. They stepped back, staring at the house one last time.

Madison reached into her pocket and revealed a box of matches. She pulled one out and took a deep breath before striking it against the rough edge of the box. The flame lit up the night.

"Eli, wait for me here and keep watch," Madison said. "I'm going to make my way around the house. I'll meet you back here. I shouldn't take long." Elijah nodded. Taking a deep breath in, she walked to the side of the house. Before she had a chance to regret it, she tossed the match into the house. The gasoline-soaked wall caught immediately. The dry grass added to the torment as flames began licking the side of the building, making its way inside. She headed to the backyard, fidgeting with the box in her hand. She pulled out another match, watching it strike against the box. The flame dance on the top of the wood. The wind cause it to tilt oh-so-dangerously. It was invigorating. And with that, she threw that match too.

On the front yard, Elijah waited for Madison to return. He paced along the driveway, getting more and more anxious with each second. He could see the flames. They were building up quickly. Someone would catch them if they didn't hurry. Suddenly, he felt his heart drop.

The picture.

Without thinking, he ran to the side door, swinging it open and running towards the stairs. The hardwood floors were slippery with gasoline, and it took everything in him to not slip and fall. He grabbed onto the rail with slippery, gasoline-covered hands and scurried up the flight, not caring in the slightest if he woke up the foster parents. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he raced towards the bedroom. He entered the small room. Pushed the mattress off the bed. Rummaged through the hidden possessions. Trying to find the photo. Praying to anyone who was listening.

And then the room caught.

When she heard the scream, she lost all sense of sanity. Oh no. No no no no no no! She raced to the side door, which was thankfully not on the side she'd already lit. The door was opened. Elijah had went back in. He's so stupid. He's so stupid. Ohmygodsohmygodsohmygods! Her heart raced. The bottom of her pants soaked with gasoline, and flames inched up her ankles to her calves. She couldn't think. The only thought running through her mind was I need to get him out. What have I done? What have I done?

What have I done?

The ceiling collapsed, falling in her path and on her body. She tried to shake it away, but it was too heavy. She struggled against the weight of the wall, the ceiling, the wood, and the ash. It wasted valuable time. With everything in her, she pushed up. The broken pieces of the house fell around her. The back of her shirt was torn, and embers danced across it. Then, that caught too. She could feel the flames eating through the material and into her skin. She ripped the shirt off over her head, thankful she had snakes instead of flammable human hair.

Time slowed. The walls began to crumble in on her. The smell of gasoline was nauseating. She couldn't think straight. Couldn't see more than the red, the yellow, the orange. Flames crawled up her body, ready to engulf it. Her bra and pants were torn and burnt. Her shirt laid on the floor, covered in fire and long gone, with no hope of being salvaged. Her shoes and socks had fallen apart, turned to ash in the flames, and her feet were left bare to fight against the fire. But she couldn't think about that. She needed to find Elijah. Elijah, the boy she'd come to love so easily. So quickly. Her brother not of blood. Her hope. Her light.

And he was going to die.

He screamed. Fire ate his skin first, then his muscle. Everything burned. He tried to pat away the flames. Try to tame them. But they were impossible. The fire was hungry, and he was the perfect feast. There was nothing he could do. He couldn't move. He laid on the floor, trying to relish the life he had left. He watched his skin turn black as night. He gagged at the smell of human flesh burning- his flesh burning. With all his energy, he lifted his arm. The fire slowly ate the thin paper as it burned at the corner, but he couldn't find it in him to care. He felt his eyes droop as he saw his parents' warm smiles. His mom's white wedding dress. His father's tuxedo. The flowers. The love. He smiled. He would finally be home.

Madison grabbed onto the rail, which was slippery with gas. She couldn't hold on, so she let go off it. She hurried up until she saw that the stairs were completely engulfed. A wall of flames blocked her from reaching him. It was too thick. Too hot. It was impossible to get through. He was gone. So close yet, so far away. The last thing she heard was his screams. And there was nothing to do. Nowhere to go. But down.

She woke up in a cold sweat, sitting upright in her bed. Her comforter and blankets were hanging off the bed from when she kicked them off. She heard her heart pounding. Her fan moving the air around the room. Medusa rapping her knuckles against the bedroom door. Asking her if she was okay. Saying that she heard screaming. The key was in the lock. Wriggling around. His screams echoing in her ears. Everything was so loud.

She looked down to see her hands and feet. They were cracked, red, and blistered. They would always be blistered. Reminders of that night. Reminders that she was a murderer. That she would always be a murderer.

And with nothing left in her, she cried.

---

Poor Madison! Hopefully, that sheds some light on why she's the way she is.

Foreshadowing arises with the new girl with the purple eyes! She'll come back; just you wait!

Some parts were heavily inspired by We Were Liars by Emily Lockhart. It's a work of art that I highly suggest reading, but you probably shouldn't read the end in public if you're faint of heart.

The title comes from "Creatures" by Motionless in White.