Sorry this chapter's rather long. :/ I have nationwide exams in a few weeks (I'm so so so nervous) and don't know when I'll be able to update again. I'm hoping I can before Christmas break is over…but I just don't know. So just in case I don't get online in a few days: Happy Holidays! :D And thanks so much to everyone who reviewed!

My fingers are only inches from my phone when it rings, nearly making me jump out of my skin. I pick it up slowly, keeping it only inches from my ear.

"Hello?".

There's a long pause. I can hear heavy breathing on the other end. "If you want to see Mal Fallon alive again…you will do exactly as I say".

Work that day is terrible and filled with lies and fake smiles. I have to pretend that I'm happy. That Mal simply has a cold and is taking a day off. The whole time I keep expecting someone to call me out for it and ask me where Mal really is. But no one does. And I'm not sure whether I was hoping for it or not.

My headache returns sometime during the day, making the effort of keeping a straight face is harder. I took care of my injured leg, but every step I take still shoots pain up my leg. It doesn't help that I have to make a conscious effort to hide my limp.

I spend a long time following Shawn's instructions that night. I do my hair with careful hands, put on my favorite earrings and wear a long green dress to cover my injury. I put off hooking my phone and gun to a holster on my good leg for as long as possible.

I borrow Mal's car to get there. My hands shake; partially from nerves, partially from reasons I can't really explain as I drive to my destination.

It's a small high-class bar. One that's much to fancy for my taste, but one that I think Mal might like. A blonde-haired man in a tuxedo waves for me, his familiar face looking exactly like the photo Shawn showed me. I feel a shiver run down my spine as he loops an arm around mine, leading me inside.

According to Shawn; he's embezzled thousands of dollars from the supposed 'charity' he owns. According to him…hundreds of kids in shelters across the state have missed meals because of him.

I'm his 'date'.

A fake dating site profile and one day was all it took. I have to hand it to Shawn for finding someone like him in such short notice. I wonder if this was all his doing, or whether he hacked someone else's account. But I can't worry a about that.

All I can do tonight is try to find a way to get him alone. After that…I have no choice but to do what I came here to do.

I shutter as my 'date', Ethan Hart, leads me to a small table. All around us, I can see business men and women in suits, standing around and drinking cocktails and chatting idly. Witnesses.

I want nothing more than to inch away from the man holding me and get the hell out of here…but I can't. Shawn told me if I try anything even slightly suspicious…he'll kill Mal. I can't take that chance. I won't take that chance.

Ethan introduces me to a few of his friends that pass us by, and I manage to smile the whole time as I greet face after face. Unsurprisingly, Ethan also seems to be a well-liked guy.

As the evening draws to a close I can feel my hand inching toward the handgun holstered to my good ankle, and I want nothing more than to get the whole ordeal over with. As if in cue, Ethan suggests we hit the road before finishing his drink. I only pretend to take one last sip of mine before I agree. I slip my gun from its holster as I stand up, hiding it behind my back and covering it with my hands.

The dark parking lot is empty as we exit, most people thinking it to early to to home yet. Ethan offers me a ride home, which I refuse.

"We can come back for your car in the morning" he says with a smile. "Wouldn't want you to get in an accident". He opens the door to his car to help me in, and when I don't move he asks "something wrong?".

Before he can even blink my handgun is trained on him, aimed at a point right between his eyes.

A look of utter shock crosses his face, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights as his drunken brain tries to process what's going on. When he snaps out of it, he weakly raises his hands in surrender.

"Please…you can have whatever you want…just don't hurt me".

"I don't want anything you have". My hands shake as I unlock the safely, taking one step closer. My heart pounds so for forcefully against my chest it hurts, and I don't know why. It's not like I haven't killed before.

And then it hits me. This man is no threat to me. The only people I've ever shot were either threatening Mal or myself. The only people I ever killed were in self-defense; they were always holding a gun to my head or a knife to my throat. It was never a choice. But this…this is a choice. All he ever did was steal money. And I don't even know if he's guilty, I'm going off of someone's word.

Shawn's word.

"Please…" the he begs. Ethan, the man who was talking an laughing only minutes ago, is trembling. "Please…don't kill me. I have a sister…please…". He slowly reaches inside his coat pocket, throwing an open wallet at my feet. I don't look for long, but it's enough time for the girl's face to bun into my corneas. She looks just like her brother. She's Neha's age, and the expression on her face shows that she adores the person taking the picture.

"Please…I'm all she has in the world".

My finger is on the trigger.

"Don't make me leave her alone".

I can feel my arm tense. I squeeze my eyes shut.

"I'll do anything. Please…she's my sister".

I open my eyes, making the huge mistake of looking him dead in the eyes. He makes an expression that matches a begging puppy, and I know that I can't do this. All I can think of is that girl, crying and screaming as she gets the news. All I can think of is Neha.

In one fluid motion I rear back and hit him upside the head with the butt of my gun, one phrase barely escaping my lips.

"…I have a sister too…".

Ethan slumps to the ground, blood trickling down the side of his face. He doesn't move, and without even checking to see if he's alive, I pull my phone out of the side of my holster and take a picture just like Shawn told me. My hands tremble as I wait over an agonizing minute for a reply, hoping with all my heart that he bought it.

'Your reward is at home' is the reply.

I take off running.

My headache has built up by the time I get home, coupled with black dots that swim in my vision. By the time I limp up the stairs I feel shaky and weak; and I know I'm going to pass out. But I need to find what was left for me first. I need to find the next piece of the puzzle before I can give in.

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears by the time I make it inside and back to my bedroom to find a cardboard box on my bed. The black dots are closing in as I rip the top open, peering inside to find several pieces of paper and a small orange pill bottle.

I swallow a lump in my throat as I take the bottle, knowing instantly what it must be.

To be sure I take the cap off, smelling the few round capsules inside. I would recognize that bitter smell anywhere.

This is what Genevieve gave me to make me forget Mal.

I can feel my whole body shutter as I dump one onto my palm, and as I slip the tiny capsule in my mouth I can feel my legs give out. I fall on the bed, shivering and shaking, trying desperately to force the pill down my patched throat. I can feel myself involuntarily reaching across the bed, my arms outstretched to hold the warm body that's no longer with me.

I should have known. I should have known all along. Whatever Genevieve gave me must have been really strong…

…Because she made me into a drug addict.

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