If Ash believed in ghosts, she would've tagged along with the boys' hunting. In all of those instances, she got a feeling that would shake her to her core. A feeling of unfathomable fear. And it wasn't that she was afraid of seeing the dead. She was afraid that everything was real, that ghosts were real, and that she could find ways to contact the deceased. The fear pressed hard when five years later her grandmother died and she had a fight with her brother. It pressed harder when Larry died.

At the same time, she wanted to believe that ghosts were real. She didn't doubt Sal and Larry and Todd. She just wanted to keep her eyes and mind away from that world. Which was contradictory since she witnessed seeing the huge temple built underneath Addison Apartments. And she knew there was some crazy shit involving an occult and a demon. But where did the story begin and the truth ended. Mrs. Packerton killed children and turned their meat into bologna. That was real. That was the truth. But the reason Sal said after he murder everybody in the apartments. How could Ash see that as a truth as well?

Sal was never one to lie. Sometimes he just didn't want to talk about things, like what happened to his face or the details about his mother's death. All of that was understandable. Maybe he would hold onto a secret and it would take a while to wean it out of him. But Sal would never lie. He wasn't that type of person. He looked for the truth, and he sometimes did rather risky things. Ash never thought he would ever kill anybody though.

Three years had passed since the alleged "Sally Face Murderer" struck. Three years and Sal would be sent into execution. Three years was all the time Ash had to prove he was innocent. That he was just out of it and wasn't fully cognizant of what he had done. That Sal needed help.

Ash knew Sal had problems. None of them were very life threatening though. He struggled with bouts of depression, had plenty of anxiety attacks, sickening migraines, and suffered with horrible nightmares. She considered Sal happy, and she never thought Sal had pondered about self harm or suicide. He'd mention before that his life here in Nockfell was better than the one he had in New Jersey. That here he had friends and people who really cared about him other than his dad. Also, there was Gizmo. Gizmo was his therapy cat of sorts.

Why did he kill them? That was a question Ash wished she could ask him in his face. His true face, not the prosthetic that covered it. She wanted to see his expression, any form of guilt or remorse. But Sal didn't take his mask off. He described it being off as if someone was depantsed in front of the public. "People always feel safe wearing no pants in their homes or in private. The same is with me and my face," he would say.

Ash could've asked him why he killed them all. His dad. Lisa. Chug. All the other residents. She was too much in shock. Todd called her that night, telling her that something was wrong and she had to call the police. Or head to the apartments. Ash chose both, and for some reason she regretted it. Maybe she should've just gone to the complex herself without calling anybody. Then maybe none of this would've happened.

The polaroid picture in her hand crumpled slightly. Within the sheet was a blurry photograph of the inside of Larry's treehouse. In the center of the photograph was an even blurrier picture of Larry himself. Or rather, his ghost.

If Ash believed in ghosts, she wouldn't have spent those three years trying to scourge up evidence that didn't mean anything to the court system. She would've gone straight into the treehouse to call up Larry's spirit.

The roar of her motorcycle's engine echoed in her ears. Ash felt the soon-to-be autumn air nip away at the skin of her fingers, breezing around in the forest of her short hair. Another year was about to pass, and another change of the seasons was upon them. She wished time went slower. She wished she had more time.

Ashley wished she was faster than time.

Too slowly, she had to park at the prison that held Sal. Too slowly she had to pull her helmet off and lock up her motorcycle. Too slowly they had to check her and make sure she didn't have some form of contraband equipment hidden in her clothes. She thought the entire process was stupid and that the people who were checking her were taking their god damn time. And that they were perverts. One of them spent too much time at her chest.

Immediately when she was all clear to go, Ash took off in a full sprint. The photo was pulled from her pocket and rested in her hand, fingers intertwined against the sharp corners of the sheet. She didn't know exactly where to go, so she had to fucking guess. It made her frustrated until she saw the most familiar color of light blue in the corner of her vision.

Sal's hair was light blue. Sal! Ash skeeted on her feet, the heels of her shoes squeaking against the tile. She turned the corner where she saw the color and booked it as fast as she could. Her hopes were high, heart sensitive with a powerful dread of what could happen. She could be imagining the color. It was her shock, still remaining for those three years.

But she wasn't imagining it. On that fateful day, Sal hadn't put his hair up in his iconic pigtails. It laid down on his shoulders, running down his upper back. Ash had asked him, and his only reply was that he just wanted to change things up. And that he just didn't feel quite right.

Was he having a depression attack? That was what people called those sorts of things, right? Ash just noticed he was off, and Sal noticed that too. But to explain why was something he was having trouble with explaining. All he could say was that he felt like his soul wasn't aligned right with his body.

Ash should've felt the foreshadowing. Neither of them knew what the future held, but the explanation he gave about how he felt should have made her worry about him more. It was the first time he was like this, and Sal was sometimes full of a lot of "first times". The first time she'd met someone who had a horribly disfigured face. The first time she'd met someone so kind and compassionate. The first time she met someone who really liked to defy the world's definition of gender qualifications, for Sally would wear a dress if he god damn felt like it and would fucking rock it! He was also the first person that made her feel like she was never alone in the world, that would always turn a listening ear to her. Even if Sal was deaf in one.

The sound of her shoes pounded against the floor, Ash chasing after the person dressed in an orange uniform being led to his death by two officers at his side. She wanted to call out, but she felt like if she did that, they would go faster. Because the boys were right. This whole town was being controlled by an underground and undercover cult. The whole world it seemed.

She could almost feel him. If she really wanted to, she would reach out and tap Sal on his shoulder. But the guards would probably pin her down. Instead she tried to clear her throat, which felt so swollen and tight with all of the adrenaline that was running throughout her system.

Perhaps she did clear her throat, since the guards stopped on their tracks. Sal stopped with them, his short stature not taking a step forwards. The guards looked over their shoulders' at Ash, then looked at each other.

"I have evidence," Ash was finally able to say. She presented the photo in her hand to one of the guards. One of them took a quick glance at it before looking at the other. Sal's head moved a bit, trying to catch what they were whispering. Maybe he also wanted to see what she had this time too.

"Sorry lady," one of the guards said, "your time is up."

"No it's not," Ash protested. She got Sal's attention. He was trying to look over his own shoulder, trying to look at her with his only good eye. "You told me that I have until he's sitting on that chair. I recorded it."

That was a lie. She wasn't allowed to bring recorders to the prison, for privacy reasons or something. But Ashley had to say something. Anything that would make the guards, the possibly cultists in plain sight, realize they couldn't win this fight.

And they noticed. One looked at the other, mouthing what looked like the simple word fuck. The other sighed, letting go of Sal's arm. They gave in! Ash's heart swelled with relief. Eventually, the one who mouthed the curse let go of Sal's other arm, and immediately Ash ran into him and hugged him.

Sally Face made a surprised sound at the sudden movement. He couldn't hug her back, but he rested his head against her the best he could. Ash knew Sal was short, shorter than the average height of a male his age, but that neither of them had the heart to care.

"Thank you," his voice said, muffled slightly as it always was behind that mask.

Ash couldn't say anything back. She was too busy crying. Sal practically had to move away from her so they could officially free Sal from his still current state of damnation. The guard's wouldn't free him from the cuffs around his wrists, but they allowed Sal to walk freely with his own control as they guided the two friends to the evidence inspector. She was frightened for a moment that the evidence inspector would call out Ash's photograph for a fake, but even in the year 2004 the technology wasn't good enough to produce convincing photoshop. The inspector told Sal he was free to go, and an hour later they gave him a new pair of clothes (since his old ones were bloody and confined for evidence of his crimes), and sent him on his way.

Outside the prison, Sal and Ash just looked at each other. They stood so closely to one another that she could see the sheen of his eyes from within the shadow of his mask. His hair was still messy, larger chunks of his bangs swept behind his ears in vain. He looked like he came from hell and back. Sal practically did.

"We should head to the temple," he said. "Right away!"

"Just a second mister! You just got out of jail and now you're ready to put your life at risk once again? Have you got no regard for your own life?"

"Ash. We nee-"

But Ash just silenced him. And smiled. She was suppose to be lecturing him about how stupid he was being. One minute, just getting out of jail, and now ready to go fight some stupid cult and destroy a demon? She didn't think so.

"Not right now, okay?" Ash said, her eyes threatening to cloud up in tears again. "I want to bathe in this moment just for a little longer."

"Uhm..." Sal's voice grew shy, somewhat embarrassed. "Speaking of baths though..."

Ash laughed. That laugh that should've started with a loud chuckle, but reached high instantaneously. "Of course! We'll get you all freshened up before we go save the world!"

"When you're ready to meet God, you'd better look nice!"

"What?"

Sal probably smiled. She could hear it in his voice. "Nothing."