The desire for iniquity burned within Clara, Steve's words from earlier playing back in her mind. How dare he, she thought. How dare he say that to me! She made her way to his bedroom, her intentions even darker than usual when she lie down beside the young boy.

Clara leaned close to Steve's face, able to tell when he'd sensed her presence, even though he didn't open his eyes. "How dare you say such a thing." She let her hands slide under the covers, then underneath his pajamas, silent until her yearning for power made her speak again, her voice sweet despite the cruelty. "That must feel good."

Clara reached for Steve's hands, stroking them at first, reveling in this bit of control, as Steve's voice came into her ears, the sadness and desperation in it making her want more. "Please stop."

Never one for obedience, Clara only pulled Steve's hands closer to her body. "Just do what I say."

Steve's whimpering did nothing to stop what was happening, even as he tried to pull away, not wanting his hands to go where Clara was forcing them to go. "I don't want to."

Clara let go of Steve, watching as his fingers shook, immediately gripping the pajamas that covered him. She smiled at him, as she pushed the blanket aside. "You're so sweet, Stevie."

Steve's eyes opened, his head turning, trying to burrow into the pillow, as Clara kissed him, her hands still wandering.

Clara inched closer to Steve, her lips tingling. She saw his eyes close, as she pressed on, making their bodies touch one another, her heart twisting in a sick passion, as she savored the moments of vengeance.

The temptation stared him in the face, the brown liquid inviting him to consume it.

He lifted the glass, able to taste the burning bitterness without even taking a single sip. He breathed in the scent, feeling a stinging sensation in his nostrils, imagining the numbness that could claim him if he only gave in to the enticing urge.

Puzzling thoughts circled in Steve's mind, as he stared at the empty space beside his own car. "Where the hell did he go this late? And why wouldn't he at least tell me?"

Steve paced the kitchen, his bare feet walking along the cold tile, concerned over Nicholas' possible whereabouts. "He's never done this before."

Thinking of the panic attack Nicholas had earlier, the distress he'd experienced, as well as the struggle he'd revealed only in part, Steve picked up the phone. He dialed Samuel's number, expecting an answer groggy with sleep, if he got one at all.

Samuel's voice came on the line. "Hello?"

Steve spoke quickly, fearing he shouldn't have called so late. "It's Steve. Have you heard from my dad? He's not in his room. His car is gone and-"

"Woah. Slow down, Steve. No, I haven't heard from him. He just left without telling you anything?"

"Yes! I'm sorry for calling you so late, but it's the only thing I could think of because he was really upset earlier tonight. Like panicking and crying."

"It's fine that you called me. Really. I was awake anyway."

"I'm scared too. Maybe I shouldn't be, but he's never done this before. He's never just left, especially since I've needed him a lot at night."

"Hey, it'll be okay. I'm sure he had a good reason."

"I just don't know why he wouldn't tell me. He was so upset earlier too, and I don't know, it kind of shook me up."

"Just try to relax. I'm sure he doesn't want you to worry. He'll be back. I know he will."

The world seemed to shift, tilting on its axis, as Clara heard Nicholas' voice take over the darkness of the room. "What is going on? Clara, get away from him!"

Clara moved away from Steve, channeling her inner charm, even as she could feel the anger that had overcome Nicholas. "Nothing! He just had a nightmare! I was comforting him."

"Bullshit! Get out of my house! Don't ever come near me or my son again!"

Clara, appalled at the very idea of having to leave, looked at Steve, seeing he had curled up on the bed, crying even more than he had already been. She raised her voice, trying to protest. "But, Nicholas!"

Nicholas moved forward, going closer to Clara. "Shut up and get out! I can't believe I ever let you near my kid. You're sick, Clara!"

Clara stared into Nicholas' eyes, the rage in them enough to silence her. She backed away from him, alarmed to imagine the harm this man could do, believing she'd hurt his child. She ran from the room, her heart already scrambling to decide where to go and the way to turn the tide of the situation in her favor.

Headlights shone on the Randles' driveway, and Steve bolted out the front door, his bare feet hardly even feeling the cold ground, as he went toward Nicholas' car. "Dad, where did you go? Why would you just up and leave?"

Nicholas slid out of the car, reality attempting to sink in, as he took in Steve's presence. "I'm sorry, Son. It's nothing. I just went out."

"Out? You went out?"

Nicholas closed the car door and walked toward the house, Steve on his heels, as he went inside. "Yes. I thought you were asleep, honestly."

"I kind of was for a little bit, but I woke up and took a shower. Just to try to relax me. But then, I looked in your room, and you weren't there. Where did you go?"

Nicholas hung up his jacket, then sat down to take off his shoes. "Nowhere, Son. Everything's fine."

"Don't lie to me, Dad. And it's not fine. Don't say it's fine when I was worried about you!"

Startled by Steve's raised voice, Nicholas reached for his arm, guiding him into the chair beside him. "I'm so sorry, Son. I didn't mean to worry you."

"You said it's nothing. It's not nothing. It's not fine. Why would you leave? I wasn't just worried, Dad. You really scared me."

"I'm okay, Steve. I promise. Nothing happened, and you don't need to be scared. I'm here now."

"I keep asking, but you won't answer me. Where did you go?"

Nicholas let out a heavy sigh, battling with the truth. "I don't want you to be mad at me, Son."

"I won't be. Not if you just tell me."

Nicholas licked his lips, looking away from Steve. "I wanted to have a drink."

"A drink? Dad, it's been months. Why would you- How could you-" Steve found himself unable to finish the questions he had, settling for staring at Nicholas, still waiting for more of an explanation.

Unable to bear the disappointment in Steve's expression and tone, Nicholas stood up, turning away from him. "But I didn't do it. I didn't even take a sip. It was like I wanted to. But I couldn't."

"It's cause of what you were talking about earlier, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

Steve got to his feet and went to Nicholas' side. "You could've come to me, you know. That'd be better than just leaving and-"

"No. I couldn't."

"But you could, Dad. I told you-"

"I know what you told me, and I appreciate it, Son. I truly do. But I can't do that."

"Telling me you want to drink because of how you've been feeling is a lot better than leaving late at night and not telling me anything."

"I didn't mean for you to know about that."

"But I do, Dad! And you scared me! You don't seem to get it. I'm not even upset you almost drank. I'm upset that you left. Even when you used to drink, you never did that!"

"I do get it, Son. And I'm sorry." Nicholas reached for Steve's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "It's late. Why don't we both just go to bed? We can talk more tomorrow."

"No. I want to talk now."

"What else can I say, Son? I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I scared you. But I came home. Nothing happened."

Steve made his way over to the couch and sat down, silent until Nicholas followed suit. "It's not nothing. The night you've had, it's a lot more than nothing."

"That's not what I meant. I meant nothing happened while I was gone. I didn't drink. I left and came back. That's it."

"I wish you would've just talked to me cause when I opened the door, and your bed was empty, and I saw your car was gone-"

Nicholas stood up once more, pacing as he snapped. "And told you what, Son? That it's haunting me because I enjoyed sleeping with the woman who sexually abused you? That I liked it when she touched me? It makes me sick to know there had to be nights we had sex in my bed, before she'd sneak off and climb into yours!"

Steve swallowed, feeling the color draining from his face. "Oh."

Nicholas pressed a hand to his forehead, his feet now still. "Damn it. I shouldn't have said that to you."

"But if it's true, and it's what's bothering you then..."

Nicholas took in Steve's pained expression and went to sit back down beside him. "But I still shouldn't have. I know that must've been hard for you to hear."

"I mean, it's nothing I guess I didn't already know because of course you-" Steve stumbled over his words, wanting his dad to hear this, but not wanting to repeat any part of what he'd just heard. "Of course, you did. But, like I said before, you didn't know. So please don't feel bad about it. Please."

"Thank you, Son. For saying that." Nicholas pulled Steve into his arms, needing to hold him tight. "For being here for me too. For everything tonight."

The white sheet hovered in the air, before landing on the guest bed. Grace put a folded pink blanket and a pillow on top of it, before turning back to Clara. "There you go. I think it'll help you to get some sleep. Maybe things will be better in the morning, and you can even give Nicholas a call."

Clara nodded in agreement, as she settled on the bed, the material of her yellow nightgown brushing against the sheets. "Maybe you're right. I am tired, after all. I don't think he'd listen to me though." She could feel tears well in her eyes. "But I'll be all right. It's not like I haven't lost anyone before."

Grace turned off the light, as she saw Clara unfold the blanket and lie down. "Of course you'll be all right. I'll see you in the morning. Good night."

"Good night." Clara's head rested on the pillow, as Grace closed the door behind her. She touched the tears that were now on her cheeks, as she reminded herself that they couldn't be real. The grief she'd put on display for Grace when she arrived was merely for show, to distract her friend from the path to the truth.

Clara sat up on the bed, the pink blanket wrapped around her, as she pondered the night. "But I didn't do anything bad. I was just loving him. I was giving him what I never got, what I can't give my Christopher." I didn't do anything wrong, she thought. I don't feel guilty. I can't feel guilty.

Clara felt an ache rise inside her, one she couldn't identify. "No. I'll start over, like I did before. I'll find another man to call my own. Another sweet little boy too." I'll do it all again, she thought. I just won't get caught this time.

The wrench gripped the bolt underneath the hood, Soda's hand turning it until it was tight. "Well, at least he didn't drink, Stevie."

Steve opened the toolbox on the garage floor, rummaging through it. "I know, man. I know. Believe me, I'm so glad about that. Because I don't want him to fall into that again or beat himself up over it."

Soda, wrench still in hand, leaned against the car's front end. "But?"

Steve looked up from the toolbox, unable to keep from meeting Soda's eyes. "But when I saw his bed was empty, when I realized he really wasn't there at all, it did something to me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I was scared. I'm not sure what I thought, but it bothered me a whole lot."

"Did you tell your dad that?"

"Yeah. But I didn't really get a chance to explain it. I'm not sure if I even know how."

"You should talk to him again then."

Steve picked up a screwdriver, turning it over in his hands. "This is going to sound weird, but I think I was afraid he left and wasn't coming back or something."

"You thought something might happen to him?"

"Yeah. Maybe. Or even that he just wouldn't come home." Steve walked back over to the car, looking under the hood, before he began to tighten a loose screw. "It's bothered me before to think I could lose my dad, so when he was just gone, and I didn't know why, I guess it brought that fear back again."

A ringing telephone tried to rip Clara from her musings, but she ignored it, pulling on a borrowed button up shirt, as she contemplated her options.

She looked around Grace's guest bedroom, noting the plainness of it, the lack of color and decoration. It held only the bed she's slept in and a small nightstand, the simplicity brightened by the window which had just a thin curtain hanging over it.

Clara buttoned the shirt and straightened the sleeves, the heart in her chest beating in utter conflict. No, nothing bothers you, she told herself. You still hold all the power.

Steve's eyes fluttered open, as he shifted, still clad in his DX uniform. He then sat up, the nap he'd taken providing only slight relief from the fatigue of being up late the night before. He yawned, his eyes closing once more, as he laid his head on the back of the couch.

Nicholas came in from the kitchen and looked at Steve dozing, the sight making him sigh. "I'm sorry I kept you up late, Son."

Steve opened one eye. "Quit apologizing, Dad. You've done enough of that."

"But it's true. I really am."

"I know. But I'm just glad you're here."

Nicholas pondered their conversation from the night before that had bordered on an argument, Steve's distressed words coming back to him once again. "Did I miss something?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think I might have been so caught up in what I was feeling last night that I didn't really listen to what you were saying."

Steve's head lifted up, as he rubbed his eyes. "I don't think you could have. And I never actually got it out anyway."

When Steve moved his feet to make space for him, Nicholas sat down on the couch. "I know when I said what I did, you were about to tell me something. You kept saying I scared you, and that hasn't left my mind, Son."

"Cause you did, and yeah, I was about to tell you something. Not really anything different, but I guess I wanted- No, I needed to at least try to explain. But you probably needed to get what's been bothering you off your chest even more. So it's okay."

"I'm still so-"

"Stop it, Dad! Please. I know that. I know you're sorry. Could you get out of your own head for just one damn minute?"

"Yes. I can. I'm listening now, Son. What were you trying to tell me?"

"You know what? Never mind." Steve stood up, beginning to walk away, as he was not yet certain of the burst of anger trying to build within him. "I don't feel like doing this."

Nicholas followed Steve out to the front porch, watching as his son leaned his elbows on the railing, his eyes on the yard. "Okay. We don't have to talk about it anymore. I really thought you needed to."

"I'm not mad at you, Dad. So don't think that. I'm just still kind of tired and stuff. That's all."

Nicholas didn't reply, as he sat down on the porch swing, choosing to be silent and let Steve lead.

"I know you wouldn't leave me or anything like that, but..."

But what? Nicholas wondered. Why is he even thinking- His eyes widened, recalling the beginning of Steve's last statement the previous night, before he himself had blurted out the reasoning behind his own shame.

"You weren't in your bed. Your car wasn't here. I don't know what I even thought. I just didn't like how it felt."

Nicholas held his silence, also remembering how Steve had expressed fear that he could lose him somehow or even push him away.

"I didn't know where you were or why you left or when you were coming home." Steve moved away from the porch railing and perched on the edge of the swing. "Or if you were coming home."

Nicholas fought the urge to apologize yet again, realizing that wasn't what Steve needed to hear. "Of course, I was coming home, Son." He lifted a hand to stroke the back of his son's head. "I'll always come home."

The reflection stared back at Clara, as she studied her own face. She looked hard into her green eyes, drinking in her features that she knew made her a beauty unlike any other. "There's nothing wrong with you. What they say isn't true."

Clara ran her fingers through her blond hair, smiling in spoke of the voices echoing inside her unraveling mind. "No, you're not sick. You know the best way to show love. They just don't understand."

Her green eyes narrowed, anger that had stowed away decades ago coming to the forefront, as she looked away from the mirror. "It's just because you never got any love. You were only in the way."

Clara lifted her eyes back up to see her reflection and imagined her face much younger, that of a ten year old little girl. She began to laugh, the maniacal sound not one of amusement. "Oh. But no one will ever forget me now. I've made sure of it."

A page turned in the Bible, Steve's eyes reading the verses of a Psalm he'd only seen once before, the light from his lamp shining upon it: "The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want; he makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake."

Steve easily remembered when he'd last read this Psalm, caught within feelings of rejection and the cycling of suicidal thoughts that were still a secret. He read the next verse, drawing the greatest meaning out of it: "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me."

Steve touched the page, the shadows of his fingers moving along it, as they brushed over the scripture he'd just read. You are with me, he thought. You were with me, even when I believed I wanted to die. You were with me when I was a kid too.

He looked at the margins, finding Rose's notes, his mom's handwriting not as painful to see as it once had been: "He gives me life. He gives me rest. Even in darkness, I am comforted."

Steve felt a small smile cross his face. Thank you, Mom, he thought. Thank you so much for writing that. I like to think you're always with me too, even though I know you're in Heaven. He was still staring at Rose's words when Nicholas sat down beside him on the bed. "I got so mad the last time I read this page, Dad. Well, I thought I was mad anyway, but now, I guess I was just really hurt."

Nicholas recalled Steve's questions about God and his demeanor at the time. "You seemed like you were still keeping a lot inside then, Son. Even while you were talking and asking the questions that you did, I could see it."

"That's cause I was. Or trying to anyway. I was upset about Evie and everything, but I also felt like I could go crazy because the suicidal thoughts were really damn bad. I remember asking Soda to stay with me because I knew I shouldn't be left alone, but I just couldn't make myself tell him why. I couldn't imagine saying it to anybody yet. It was like every part of me hurt."

Nicholas' memory drew him back into the moment when Steve had first told him he had thoughts about killing himself, knowing now that the fear and sadness he'd experienced then had been only the beginning. "I know that was hard to talk about, Son. And I hate that you ever had to handle it by yourself."

"But I was never by myself, Dad. Not even when you didn't know. You were still here for me. You and Soda and Laura. Evie too, even with what we were going through. I wasn't alone at all. If I had been, I might not have ever told anyone at all."

"That's scary to think about."

"Yeah. It is. Cause you did know. And I still- I did it anyway." Steve looked down at Psalm 23 once more, the phrase "shadow of death" jumping out at him this time, as he flipped the pages of the Bible beneath his fingers. "But I would've been a lot worse."

Nicholas wrapped an arm around Steve, understanding all too well the implication of his words. "Yeah. I know it would have."

Steve closed the Bible, the truth of his statement making him want to say more, despite the inherent difficulty. "I would've died, Dad. I really believe that."

Nicholas swallowed the lump in his throat, holding back the tears that formed in his eyes, as he kept Steve close to him. "It hurts me to hear you say that, Son."

"It hurts me to think about it, but I feel like if I hadn't said anything, I would've tried to kill myself sooner. You already know that if Soda hadn't come over the first time I was thinking about taking the pills, I might've done it then, and I think I wouldn't have called you for help."

Nicholas imagined Steve sick, and possibly dying, from an overdose, while he himself remained completely unaware his son even had thoughts of suicide. He felt one tear slide down his face, this scenario one that would've created a even bigger sense of helplessness.

Steve leaned back against the pillow on his bed, but put his head on Nicholas' shoulder. "I don't think I would've called you soon enough anyway. It was so hard for me to admit I even thought about taking the pills. It would've been a lot harder to tell you if you didn't know I was feeling that way at all and then I overdosed."

Nicholas closed his eyes and rested his head on top of Steve's. "That was the scariest phone call I've ever gotten, Son. But I'm so very thankful for it."

Steve felt his mind stir, the words he'd spoken evoking memories that had only just begun to rest. "Dad, if I tell you something, could you just let me say what I need to and not ask any questions?"

"Okay. I'll just let you talk."

"I have flashbacks of when I overdosed."

Nicholas started to speak, a question wanting to come out, but he held his tongue, instead choosing to rub circles on Steve's back, a way to soothe him, as he talked through this.

"I told Samuel about them. I told him about everything I remember. I guess I needed someone who wouldn't have as hard of a time listening to that, as I know you or Soda would. But I knew he'd still care and listen and be there for me."

"All right. I'm glad you didn't keep it to yourself."

"It wasn't easy to talk about those memories, but it felt good to say all of it because I hadn't told anybody what exactly happened. I mean how or where, any of that kind of stuff."

Nicholas remembered how he'd found the ripped up paper, the Coke can, and the empty medication bottle in Steve's car, able to piece together some of the details his son had left unspoken. "As much as I want to hear everything, I think I understand why you haven't told me about all of it, but if you ever do want to-"

"I know, Dad. I know you'd listen." Steve lifted his head off of Nicholas' shoulder and looked at him. "I don't want you feeling guilty again, okay? That's one reason I didn't tell you I had those flashbacks at all. I don't want you to feel bad anymore."

Nicholas still had an arm around Steve and gave him a squeeze. "I'm getting better about that. Don't worry. What's the other reason?"

"What I was just talking about. I thought if I told you, everything about the memories in my head might just spill out, and I know that would hurt you." Steve shifted to lie down on the bed, facing away from Nicholas. "But I guess I was afraid you might push me too."

"Push you how, Son?"

"I swear it's not a bad thing, but I thought you might try to push me into telling you about those memories. Like you did before, to get me to talk about the abuse. But that was different cause it's what I needed then."

"I'm not going to push you. I promise. Because I know you're okay, and you said you told Samuel about it. I want to know what's bothering you, of course, but I won't force you to tell me anything."

Steve turned over, giving his dad a small smile. "Thank you. Not just for that. But for everything. I know I've said it before, but I'm telling you again. Thank you for being here for me." He reached for Nicholas' hand, resting his own on top of it. "And for just being my dad."

The path circled back around in Clara's mind, her thoughts becoming distressed, as she stared at the coffee maker that was brewing a fresh pot. The brown liquid dripped into the glass container, as time passed by, recent events making her think of the past she hated.

No, Clara told herself. It doesn't matter. You didn't need your parents then. You don't need anyone now. She felt the once impenetrable wall she'd built failing in the face of disapproval and loss, as she desired affection she could no longer attain. She felt the want for intimacy rise, as the blurred and twisted lines she'd created made her drift off into the fantasy of control. That's all I want, she thought. What's so bad about that? What's so bad about showing them I love them?

The coffee maker continued to fill the pot, and Clara touched the glass, feeling the heat against her skin. Nathan and my father just didn't understand, she thought. Christopher loved me too. It made him feel good. I know it did. She pulled away from the heat, a burn searing her fingers. I made Steve feel good too, she told herself. He liked it even better than Christopher. Nicholas just wanted to hurt me.

Clara looked down at her fingers that were red from touching the hot pot of coffee, the skin stinging. How dare they, she thought. How dare they all think they can control my life like this! How dare they make me leave just because I-

She stopped her thought, changing the track. I didn't do anything wrong, she told herself. I wouldn't do a thing like that. They don't even know what they saw. Nathan shouldn't have taken my Christopher from me, then I wouldn't have had to find another man or little boy.

Clara touched the burns, the raw, red skin still stinging. It's my father's fault, she thought. All he ever did was hurt me and my mother. And she didn't protect me! So I had to take control. I had to love Christopher and Steve, so they'd love me back!

She turned away from the now full fresh pot of coffee, still rubbing the burns she'd let it create. She walked over to the newspaper on the table, seeing she'd left it open to the obituaries. She turned the page, finding the section with available jobs. "Help Wanted," the ads read in bold black print.

Clara stared at the word "wanted," letting her burned fingers brush over it. I've never been that, she thought. No one wants me. They didn't love me back. How dare they!

She backed away from the newspaper, the burns on her skin stinging even more, as she felt the heart in her chest searching and longing. No one will ever hurt me again, she told herself. They won't have the chance.

Clara turned, her eyes scanning the counter in Grace's kitchen, imagining the pain she could create. She laughed at the control she was going to maintain, the sound mimicking that of when she'd been staring at her own reflection in the mirror.

She opened a drawer that held silverware, eyeing the handles of the sharp knives. I'll hurt myself, she thought. But no one else will. No one will ever say those terrible things about me again. They'll never tell me I should feel bad. Clara picked up one of the knives, running a finger over the silver blade. No one will be able to take anything from me anymore. She pressed the blade against her hand, feeling how sharp it was, making blood instantly appear. She smiled at the red liquid, as it dripped down her arm. There won't be anything to take from me, she told herself. Because I'll be dead, and this will all be over.

Evie's voice drifted into Steve's ear, as he made his way across the school parking lot. He stopped beside his car, turning his head to see her a few spaces down, talking to Kenneth. He watched, as she kissed him on the cheek, lifting a hand to touch his own face, remembering the feel of her lips on his skin.

As Steve turned away from the sight, he took his keys out of his pocket, unlocking the Ford. The door had just popped open when he heard footsteps and looked over his shoulder to see Evie behind him. "Oh. Hey."

Evie smiled at Steve, watching him put his backpack in the car. "I guess I just wanted to say hi. And I was kind of wondering how you're doing."

Steve leaned back against the car, his hand on the open driver's side door. "I'm doing all right, really. I've been figuring out a lot about things and, you know, working through it. It helps that people seem to be over talking about me and you. Hearing that kind of stuff stressed me out more."

"I'm really sorry about that, Steve. It was so unfair to you."

"Well, I know you didn't start the rumors, and it wasn't exactly fair to you either."

"Yeah. But I haven't been through all that you have."

Steve sighed, as he looked down at the pavement. "That's true. So how are you?"

"I'm good, actually." Evie glanced back to where Kenneth's car had been minutes before. "I know you've seen me with him, but-"

Steve's eyes drifted up to meet Evie's. "You don't have to explain anything. You have a right to date or do whatever you want."

"Thank you for that. I don't think it's anything serious. We've been going out though, and I like him."

Steve gave Evie a grin, even as he looked back down at the pavement. "That's good. I want you to go out and have fun. You deserve that, Evie. You deserve to be happy, no matter what."

Evie put her hand on Steve's arm, holding onto it, as her eyes caught his gaze. "You do too, Steve, and you deserve to feel better. You're a good guy, one of the best I've ever known. You'll always be my first love, but it's more than that because you'll always be my friend too, and you deserve to find all the peace you need to live your life."

The clock on the wall ticked, as Clara slid the knife down her arm, cutting into the flesh. The blood started to pour out, falling onto the pink blanket Grace had put on the guest bed, soaking through to also stain the white sheets. She made a similar cut on her other arm, savoring the disconnection from reality and the lack of pain.

Clara watched the blood flow, imagining the threat of despair draining out of her body, the guilt that had yet to get a solid grip drowning in the sea of her impending death. She let the knife drop to the floor, a feeling of dizziness accompanying the numbness that had begun to envelope her entire being, as she held her eyes open and looked at the clock. She saw the seconds tick by, as time took over.

The wind blew on Steve's face, as he opened the door to the drug store. He stepped inside, letting it close behind him. What the hell am I doing? he thought. A clerk greeted him, as he passed by, heading to a familiar aisle. He stopped in front of the shelf that had a sign above it, reading "pain relief." Steve almost laughed at the irony, thinking of how he'd attempted to relieve his emotional pain with a bottle of pills, only succeeding in creating even more. Why am I here? he asked himself, as he picked up a bottle identical to the one he'd held the day he overdosed.

Steve turned the bottle of medication over in his hands, hearing the rattle of the pills inside, as he read the print on the label and realized he didn't have the desire to take them.

The destructive temptation he'd once given into no longer had a grip on him.

The moon shone down on the Curtis' front porch, three quarters of it illuminated, the rest hidden beneath a shadow.

Steve felt the wind blow on his face, its coolness and gentle touch a reminder of so much more than the season or time. A calmness washed over him, the memories he'd always carry very much present, though they were now tucked into the back corners of his mind, no longer waiting to spring at any given moment.

Soda, curious about the expression on Steve's face, put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"

Steve's eyes filled with tears, as he smiled. "Yeah. I am."

"Are you sure?"

Steve's gaze met Soda's, his words ringing true. "Yeah. I'm okay, buddy. I really am."

A/N I always get a very bittersweet feeling with story endings, but with this one, it was beyond that! I actually cried, then I felt like I had to give myself time to absorb it and accept it before I could post this chapter. I'm so sad to finish this, but also so happy at the same time.

But it's not over for Steve or any of them! I'm working on the next story, where the journey takes a whole other turn! It's called "Masked Reflections," and so far, I'm a bit over halfway through a first chapter. Thank you for reading!