From the diary of Hailey Beckford -

This is, among other things, an odd turn of events, and one that I am not afraid to say unnerves me slightly - while this could be a potential step in the 'right' direction, an ally so to speak of...

I didn't see this.

He's...obsessive isn't the word for it. Maybe he has his reasons? Maybe not. I can't say I fully understand.

Maybe I'm not supposed to.

-*-

After the last run-in, I'm more than wary of every door I open - every time I open my own door, I expect to see everything fall in my face, everything just -

Everything I've ever worked for, completely gone.

But - part of me has a morbid curiosity, a need to know what exactly is going on in that boy's mind. After all, isn't he supposed to be more than loyal to his so-called 'friends'?

Maybe it's simply that. So-called.

I'm in the corner of my hotel room, eyes blankly gazing out the window, lights dim. There's been a knocking on the door a few times now, though nothing's been said - I need to pull myself away again, if that's even possible.

Another knock on the door, this one quieter than the rest, and a small voice. "Hailey...? C'mon, you can't stay hiding in there forever..."

It tugs at me, draws my senses to a fever pitch - maybe that was my first mistake, getting physically involved. Or getting involved period. Either way, the damage is done.

I move do open the door then move back into the room, only faint hints of a silouette in the nearly nonexistent moonlight. More dark clothing - charcoal pants, ebony one-shouldered shirt. Blonde hair messily tacked into a bun, whisps escaping to frame my face.

There's a box in his hands, a slim case of cardboard that causes me to pause, glancing over my shoulder slightly, a brow arched in question.

"For you." He says, then opens the box, setting it lightly on the dresser.

Roses. One dozen long-stemmed roses, a spray of Baby's Breath around them.

Black roses.

A shiver races down my spine, and all of the sudden, I get this cold, unsettled feeling over me, which is even more bizarre as I can feel arms twine around me from behind.

Warmth.

"Why d'you want this...?" I'm pulling away for a moment, turning to face him - he's here, I can't help but ask. After all, I need to know... ...in a sick way, if his motives are pure. "Do you know what I'm doing?"

"You're killing." Said simply, with an eerie smile twisting the words singsong, "You killed Ric and you wanna kill Hunter, and..." "How do you...?"

"Hell," there's that flash of darkness in his eyes again, threatening, "you might even want to kill me, Hai..." Darkness, and - hurt. As if he's figured everything out, knows that I've used him all along.

Then again, he can't say he hasn't used me.

"Why do you like it?" My voice shakes, but the demand is quiet, certain. "Why do you like the fact that I want to kill...your..."

"Friends?" There was amusement there, and Randy tugged me to him again, one hand moving slowly over my back, fingers tracing over my spine delicately.

The feather-light touch was strange, the gentle treatment that went with the sinister conversation. "Hailey, I'm not going to get anywhere. I'm being...held back." He moves away, another step in this perilous dance, "They say they're helping me, but...fucking holding me back!"

A swift movement to the table by the window, a strong hand picks up the water glass there, hurling it towards the wall, towards me. The crash rings in my ears, and -

I think I shriek, I can't tell.

As soon as the rage appears, though, it vanishes, and he returns to me, whispering apologies and kissing the tiny lascerations on my arms, almost wondering...how he could do this.

A switchblade personality if I ever saw one.

"...you're not gonna kill me, Hailey, are you?" Concern. Worry. "I...I'll do whatever you need me to. I'll cover your tracks, just..."

The faintest whisper, "Do it again? One more time?"

"You don't understand." I shake my head and move away, out onto the hotel balcony.

I know he'll follow.