It was the best of times and worst of crimes, that was all Deborah could describe it as. Even if she couldn't remember what she'd done, she remembered what it felt like. She remembered flying through the night, though she couldn't remember when it became a freefall. But her description didn't just apply to her rampage as Enyo.

The entire family feud had also been a spectacular nightmare, a marvelous time ruining everything. And honestly, if Deborah went farther back in time, that very first night meeting Jekyll could be considered the start of it all. Not long after that, she'd entered those best of times, but even back then, trouble was brewing, even if she wouldn't see its end game for many months more.

During both the best times and worst crimes, Deborah and Jekyll had blown each other's minds over and over again, starting fires both metaphorical, and now literal. The fire. That was something even Deborah had trouble stomaching. Even though she was the one responsible, she remembered none of it, and only heard about it later on. She'd been both impressed and horrified, unsure of what else she should've felt. What was Jekyll's reaction, she wondered? She didn't remember.

After the fire, though, it was as if Deborah's hatred had fizzled out, too. She was still furious at Jekyll, but the dreams for bloody vengeance seemed farther away now than ever before, even though Enyo had helped Deborah learn the second lesson. Apparently, it was only temporary. Now, Deborah had no idea what to do with herself. There was no more serum, whatever Deborah didn't drink burned in the fire. But the Jekyll matter still had to be addressed, Deborah couldn't just stop now! But she had neither the desire nor the faintest idea how to proceed.

Or, well, perhaps the first thing to do was address why she was being recognized as the head of the Lavish house. She'd seen the contract, got an earful from her father, so she knew what Enyo had done, but now the rest of the world needed an explanation, too. But seeing as how Enyo was responsible for a lot of property damage, Deborah couldn't exactly tell the truth. For once, she was glad the monster looked nothing like her.

Initially, her father demanded she sign the rights to the family back over to him, but even after Enyo was gone, Deborah would not yield.

"Would you prefer to deal with the monster you made of me?" she growled, crossing her arms. "You're not stronger than me! Not anymore!"

After spending all her life in fear of disappointing or angering him, she wasn't scared anymore. He didn't need to know she was out of serum.

Mr. Lavish was flummoxed, struck dumb. He'd always enjoyed the power he held over his family, but to hear Deborah talking like this… He stuttered, flustered and defensive, grasping at straws for any excuse or argument he could try to hold over her head; there were none to be found anywhere. She'd done everything he asked, he had no room to complain. He dug his grave, now he had to die in it.

The other two Lavishes said nothing. Mrs. Lavish would preferred to see her husband restored, but she knew Deborah wasn't going to cave to his demands. Unwilling to divide the family further, she would not take either side. Besides, even though he'd been blindsided, the truth of the matter was still that Deborah did successfully steal the family power from him. As Deborah had said, he wasn't stronger than her. Not anymore.

Eleanor's mind ran a similar track. She would've preferred to minimize the infighting, especially since they were still contending with Jekyll and Moulton, but she did have to admit that she favored her sister as the new head of the house. She was not mature or responsible enough to handle the power wisely, but their father had never been the best of leaders either.

At least with Deborah in charge, maybe something would change. Mr. Lavish, as a businessman, was just too used to sucking up to other people. Sometimes, it was a great asset, charming enemies into submission, but it also meant that he could be a bit spineless under certain conditions, like now. At least Deborah was more resolute, although that could present its own problems…

Eleanor only sighed and shook her head. This was why she stayed far away from her family, her only company being her novels. Yes, they were contractually obligated to rush to each other's defense, and they always would, but any other family reunion was one she didn't mind missing.

Deborah made another family video shortly thereafter. This time, ties were black, a formal announcement. The lies were still white, though, as Deborah smiled and bluffed through her pearly teeth. Reiterating the vague family drama between her house and the Jekyll family, she gave a wish-washy excuse about better utilizing family resources. It wasn't even much of an answer, but it signaled that she would say no more than that.

It was funny, though, as soon as the video was out, Deborah found herself desperately wishing to be rid of her surname forever. She didn't want to just turn the family back over to her father, but she didn't want the roles, rules, responsibilities, or reputation that came along with leading this twisted house. Even if they mostly lived their own lives and only convened on rare occasion, it was still quite the burden to bear.

I wanted to leave this, but I'm needing a reason.

God, and to think it had been Jekyll who first helped her out of this hole. After spending years in the cutthroat spotlight, Deborah finally managed to find a way out only to find herself right back where she started. No, even worse. She wasn't just right where Jekyll left her. Now she was on the throne, crown too heavy for her head.

Seemed as though no matter how far away she flew, she never got far before all the roads led back home. But maybe she shouldn't have been surprised. As she'd just pointed out, this was a life she'd lived for years and years now. She didn't know anything else, so was it any wonder why this was where she always wound up returning? Should've known we'd eventually leave, thinking about the place where she first met me…

The singer suddenly found herself staring at the dressing room where everything fell apart.

She poisoned the well, I was lying to myself. Lying, pretending she cared, believing she cared. Deborah should've known from the beginning that nothing good came from a story with a start like theirs, that this was always bound to end badly. But none of them realized just how badly.

ooo

Deborah wasn't the only one visiting old haunts, though. After the fire and phone call, Angela was so devastated that she'd gone right to the nearest bar. It was just an unfortunate coincidence that said bar was the same one she and Deborah used to frequent, the Golden Sun Saloon. Now she was back, a few more days and a few less drinks later. Thoughts swirled in and out of her head like debris carried on a river, just enough for her to glimpse, but nothing stuck around for long. The bar looked so drab in the afternoon; day drinking made it much less glamorous than at night.

She just couldn't stop replaying the scene in her head, pulling up to her lab only to see it enveloped in a wall of fire. Even though she'd gone into hiding after Ambrose first stopped replying to her texts and calls, she was still forced to return to her lab periodically in order to carry on in her experiments. This time, though, she was desperately trying to find a cure for her Lola problem. It was just luck (good or bad, she couldn't tell) that she didn't go to her lab until after Deborah had left for Ambrose's mansion.

Now, it looked like any shot at a cure had been destroyed. Not only was her lab gone, but she was certain she'd never be able to get it back. With Deborah and her family and goons constantly searching the streets for her, it wasn't like she could just rent out a new lab without getting caught. And she couldn't ask her parents for help, either, because the purchase would surely be traced back to them, and by proxy, to her.

Deborah had doxed them for a very pragmatic purpose. It wasn't just a way for her to hold something over Angela's head, it also gave everyone an extra area to survey for Dr. Jekyll. In fact, Deborah had been careful to make it clear that Angela's parents were not to be harmed, but they were certainly being monitored. That was why Angela had gone to a bar before going to her parents, in case Deborah was out hunting for her.

God, what a mess they made. What was once a simple love triangle had spiraled out, dragging every family into the fray. The Moultons certainly weren't happy to hear that their only son and heir was currently in jail. They'd challenged the Lavishes and Jekylls both, demanding someone do something to save their son. The Jekylls, however, were the weakest of the families, and could do nothing against the other two. The Lavishes, meanwhile, were the strongest. The Moultons were richer, but the Lavishes had more social connections. So Ambrose stayed in jail.

Oh, with three of us, honey, it's a sideshow! But a circus ain't a love story, and now we're all sorry…

This was the place where they fell apart. She poisoned the well, now it was everyone for themselves. Angela should've known from the first night that they were cursed, and now it was hitting them like a shotgun shot through the heart. She could only envision it as a cat and mouse game, a hunt and a chase. Deborah was crawling and climbing through every possible route and road to find Angela, and Angela was flying, trying to flee and hide. They never got far, though, still stuck within the city limits where the entire story first began.

"But I don't think it's such a mystery, after all, I should've remembered the place where she first met me…" Fighting for Ambrose's attention, right outside a dressing room. Angela remembered the dirty looks and quick shove Deborah had given her. There were sirens in the beats of their hearts, how did she not hear the warning signs until it was too late? But then again, that wouldn't be the first time Angela was late to the party. In fact, how had she not realized that she would be the first to leave, both of them so unstable even though they hid it behind shining smiles?

Now here they were again, right where they started, fighting as the rivals they always thought they were supposed to be. Was it a self-fulfilling prophecy? Was it fate? All that friendship and love dashed to the rocks after such careful building. They didn't get very far, did they?

ooo

A few nights later, Angela was at the dive bar again. This time, though, Deborah was with her. They met in shades of gray and candlelight. Here they were, in the place where they first started becoming friends all those months ago. Would X mark this spot as the place where they fell apart again? They'd both poisoned the well, neither of them drinking even though they were at a bar.

They did manage to carefully navigate a conversation, though. There was no blood spilled and no shots fired. Deborah insinuated that she was tired of their war and wanted a truce, and this was only half a lie. Angela could sense that Deborah genuinely wanted a ceasefire, but she had to decide… did she take Deborah's words at face value? Or was there something lurking just below the surface? What part of Deborah's words did Angela trust? When Deborah said that they were all sorry, what exactly did that mean?

The scientist had been wary enough accepting Deborah's sudden invitation, but the other woman sounded desperate.

You've probably figured it out by now, but I took some of that potion of yours and now I'm suffering the same, terrible effects! You HAVE to help me! I will supply you with whatever you need if you can supply me with a cure!

Now here they were, slowly and carefully discussing the terms of the agreement, as well as the science behind the potion. Deborah was subdued and uncertain, but she still carefully asked question after question, trying to learn as much about Lola's power and weakness as possible. Angela was careful what she revealed, but she did her best to give Deborah what she needed. For just a second, it felt like the good old days, two heads put together to solve one problem. Deborah enjoyed scheming and Angela enjoyed planning… if they had a partner in crime.

We were jet-set Bonnie and Clyde…

But by indulging in one memory, they both seemed to forget another. They were flying right now, but they'd never get far. Should've known someone would be the first to leave, thinking about all the places where they used to meet. They were mid-conversation when a large squad of police suddenly kicked in the door. No, it wasn't just one unusually large squad. It was two. Two sets of cops at the same place and time…

…until I switched to the other side.

"D—Deborah…? Did you…? Did you tell them I was here?" Angela sounded genuinely heartbroken as the police began scouting the bar, searching for them. Deborah said nothing, but her eyes spoke volumes. Who called the other set of police, Jekyll?

"It's no surprise, I turned you in."

A look of mutual understanding, but in the worst way possible.

"Cause us traitors never win…"

X marked the spot where they fell apart. They poisoned the well, everyone for themselves. Now it was time for a great escape, a police chase! Deborah was quicker, more reactive. Although she jumped up, she was careful to run deeper into the bar. There was only one door out, but there were multiple floors and windows.

And because the rest of the bar was still in a tizzy from the unexpected police intrusion, that gave Deborah the cover she needed to sneak away quietly. She took full advantage of the madness, she wasn't thinking, just running, and she could hear Angela pounding after her.

She was screaming, "Go! Go! Go!"

But with all of us, honey, it's a sideshow, and a circus ain't a love story…

ooo

The two managed to escape the bar successfully, but with nowhere else to go, they wound up running right into another.

"Why are you still following me!?" Deborah snarled, shaking and panting. Angela was too out of breath to even reply. She could only shake her head, equally terrified and mystified. For just a moment, it looked like Deborah wanted to strangle Angela right then and there. She managed to keep her hands to herself, though, using them instead to order them some more drinks.

Halfway through, Deborah slid off her barstool. When Angela asked, afraid, Deborah shrugged and gestured to the bathroom near the back. That wasn't where she went, though. This bar had a backdoor, and it was located by the bathrooms. She was gonna leave before she got left.

Although Deborah and Angela fled the first bar on foot, Deborah's connections swung by the second with the car she left at the first. She swapped places with the driver, he would call a cab home and she would pay. There was a big bag of bills in the back. She took a handful and gave them to the driver before taking the keys from him. She didn't stop moving until the key was in the ignition, then she paused for just a second.

Let this be the last time you ever see me…

Then she was driving in her getaway car, and she was flying, but she wouldn't get far. Of course, the reason wasn't such a mystery. After all, the situation she'd just tried to flee was an arrest. Now the cops were swarming this area too. She could hear the sirens of the cops echoing the sirens in her heart and head. Everything was screaming at her. Go! Go! GO! But with three of them, it was a sideshow. Deborah, cops… Angela.

The doctor had been suspicious the second Deborah wanted to leave her line of sight. She allowed Deborah to do as she wished, but after only 90 seconds, she was at the bathroom door. She wasn't surprised to see that Deborah was the first to leave. She sighed and shook her head, defeated. Several minutes later, though, Deborah's police chase hit the news.

Angela's eyes went wide with horror. It wasn't just watching Deborah driving recklessly through moonlit streets that scared Angela, it was realizing what direction she was heading: a very far, remote side of the city. The only thing over there that could've had any value to her was the bridge. Angela didn't even remember leaving that bar, didn't remember running back to her car, but suddenly she was flying, too. One would've thought she'd have learned her lesson by then, that nothing good started in a getaway car, but Angela was a slow learner, wasn't she?

Although Angela was also a wanted woman, because Deborah was the first to leave, both squadrons were after her. That gave Angela time to get to the bridge first, as she had less detours to take. But there were still sirens in the beat of her heart, even if the cops weren't chasing her.

She only just pulled up to the bridge when she thought she heard an engine rumble in the distance. She quickly gave her own car a bit more gas, turning the steering wheel until she was perpendicular with the bridge, blocking it with her car. Less than half a minute later, Deborah was there. Her car was smaller, but stronger, not quite a sports car, but definitely more than the casual van Angela drove.

"Jekyll! What the HELL are you doing?!" Deborah rolled down her window and bellowed. Angela only responded by hopping out of her own vehicle and standing in front of it. Deborah's look of outrage and disbelief intensified.

"I'm sorry, Deborah, but you're not getting any farther," Angela spoke just loudly enough for Deborah to hear her. She crossed her arms and raised her chin definitely. Deborah snarled at her. Did Jekyll really hate her this much? Was Deborah really this tough to love?

"Jekyll, if you don't move right now, I swear to GOD I'll run you through!" she bellowed, revving the engine to prove her point. Just what did she have to lose? And again, her car may have been smaller, but it was stronger than a simple, aging van. The only reason Deborah wasn't outright in a sports car was because it would've stuck out like a sore thumb, which was not good for getaway cars. But hers, she knew, would still be able to smash into Angela and the stationary van without being slowed down or damaged too seriously.

"Do it," Angela replied, arms still crossed and tone still quiet but convicted. For a second, Deborah was genuinely struck dumb. What?

"Jekyll, are you INSANE?!"

"I'm not moving."

"JEKYLL!"

Silence. It's no surprise I'll turn you in, 'cause us traitors cannot win…

They stayed that way for an eternity, then the sirens in their hearts filled the air. The cops were catching up, so it was time to go, go, go!

Deborah's head whipped back and forth between the cars approaching her from behind and the one blocking her path ahead. Did Angela really hate her this much? That she was willing to die a painful and bloody death just to slow Deborah down for the police?!

It felt just like a shotgun shot to the heart. A shotgun shot. Deborah didn't have her gun with her, but she still knew how to shoot. And Enyo taught her how to kill. But… Enyo wasn't here right now. Deborah was… all alone. Every woman for herself.

Suddenly, she hit the gas, reversing 30 feet. Then she shifted the car back into drive and hit the gas again, turning a hard left and speeding down a road running parallel to the one she drove in on. Why did she keep trying? Didn't she know that she never got far in a getaway car? She couldn't even get past the city limits, past the bridge, past Angela.

Speaking of, she should've known Jekyll would do this, be the first to leave and the first to betray. Hadn't everything over the course of their family feud pointed to that? Deborah had to remember the place where she first met Jekyll: as an enemy, first near, and then inside, a dressing room… with her man! Tears blinded Deborah and her knuckles turned white on the wheel; then suddenly, she was flying. But she didn't get f—

No, nothing good starts in a getaway car…

ooo

Angela fell to her knees, sobbing and dry-heaving, heart louder than any siren. She genuinely hadn't known if Deborah was going to kill her or not. Her life had not been assured, and although she had no idea what sparked that last-second decision to be merciful, she was more grateful than she thought she'd be. Deborah was literally less than a second and less than an inch away from killing her, but she was still alive… The sirens in the distance grew fainter. They saw Deborah speeding away again, there was no need to approach the bridge.

They saw Deborah speeding away again. She was the first to leave…

Suddenly, Angela was flying in her getaway car, waiting until the sirens were loud and clear once again. The city passed by in a dark blur until she noticed one particular street corner illuminated by flashing lights. But wait… Those weren't just police lights… Deborah was the first to leave.

I was riding in a getaway car.

Angela pushed the pedal down further, speeding towards the lights. She should've known Deborah would be the first to leave, she was always so reckless and aggressive… And Angela should've known that nothing good started in a getaway car, including her own.

I was crying in a getaway car.

Everything was blurred, she was crying so hard even though not a sound escaped her lips. Or maybe they did, but the sirens drowned them out.

I was dying in a getaway car.

She already knew what she was going to see, but seeing the car with its hood all bent out of shape and pressed up against a streetlamp and nearby stone building was not any easier to bear. X marked the spot. Angela tried to lie to herself, but…

Said goodbye in a getaway car.

She fell out of her car, unsure if she'd even remembered to properly park it. She couldn't see over the tall policemen and EMTs, but she could see them all looking down at something, someone, on the ground.

Angela fell to her knees again. No, no, nonononono! Oh, god, I'm sorry… I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! It felt like a shotgun shot to the heart.

She couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't calm down! Who had the crash happened to? Her? Or…? She couldn't think the name, didn't want to visualize that person in such a state. They never could win, never catch a break, could they? Please, don't let this be the last time I ever see you.

A second later, someone stepped aside. All Angela saw was a head and limp hand. No blood there, but when the body was moved aside, she saw rivers and rivers of red below the waistline.

I was riding in a getaway car.

The tow trucks would be there soon to get rid of the demolished getaway car, more sirens and flashing lights would cut through the night.

I was crying in a getaway car.

Angela was suffering the worst panic attack of her life, sinking and drowning, but there was no one there to help her now. Every woman for herself.

I was dying in a getaway car.

The hand hung limp as the body was picked up, then an EMT moved it under the blanket covering the seemingly-lifeless frame. Was she…?

Said goodbye in… a getaway… car…

The getaway car's shattered headlights flickered off for the last time.