Hello m'dears! It's a long weekend, and I decided it was about time I actually typed up the chapter that was floating around inside my head (exams are coming; I have to make room). Hopefully it doesn't disappoint, since I've been planning this one for a while now :)

Not much to say this week except THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH for the reviews and love, and I hope you guys enjoy the next couple of chapters! Also, I feel the need to tell you I'm going to see the premier of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (WOOT WOOT!). Who else is going? Are you as excited as me (and Christina)? Cuz we can't wait!1!1!1!one!1 (I swear, she has me knitting her a slytherin scarf as we speak. No joke! If you wanna see my ravenclaw one, lemme know!)

And because I could never forget her awesome-ness, a gigatico shoutout goes out to burning for her AMAZING beta skills and her ability to talk people down from the ledge (seriously, you should consider it as a career choice!).

Ok, my nutella-and-peanut-butter fueled sugar-high is starting to wear off. On to the chapter!

*Note: When someone says "Chlo", it's actually them using Chloe's nickname, NOT a typo!*

Disclaimer: Steph and Christina are waiting in line to get into HP.

Steph: And then I was like, "umm… you need to back up, creep. You're invading my personal space." And he was like, "Sorry, but you smell so good… like butterflies and rainbows… and flowers!" And then he winked at me! I thought I was going to barf!

Christina: *Shakes head*
Steph, honey, it's time to face facts: you only attract creepy guys! That's why Simon went for me, and Derek went for you!

Steph: *Glares*
Are you suggesting that Derek is creepy? CUZ HE'S NOT! HE'S NOT CREEPY!
*Crosses arms angrily*
He's just misunderstood, okay? HE'S MISUNDERSTOOD!

Christina: *Looks around in embarrassment because everyone's looking at the freak with the volume-control issues and the over-active tear-ducts (aka Steph)*
Umm… you wanna tone it down? People are staring you know, and so help me, I will pretend not to know who you are!

Steph: I'm sorry! I'll be good!
*Tries to pull herself together*

Christina: Okay, now, because we are in the process of disclaiming a chapter, I have to say something mean in like three point four seconds, alright? Can you be cool? Can you?

Steph: *Nods sadly*

Christina: Good.
*Raises voice*
AND THAT'S WHY YOU DON'T OWN DP, GOT IT?
*Laughs obnoxiously*

Steph: *Bursts into tears and runs out of the theatre, but not before running face-first into a open door*

Focus

"I'm not doing well. Life is actually pretty shit. And look at me, I have gone this whole page without using the "L" word once, so far. But looking at it objectively, realistically, I'd say that I still love you. And I'm kind of afraid I won't ever really stop."

-To Claire; from Sonny

The room was nothing like what I'd pictured.

For one thing, he wasn't inside.

I don't know how long I stood there, frozen in the doorway, looking into the empty room. There had been a part of me hoping - no, praying - that he'd be there somehow, sitting at his desk, bent over a book or something... I knew it made no sense at all - I mean, I'd watched him get shot - but there had been a little part of me holding on to the possibility that he might be there, alive and well, confused at what I was doing in his house when he'd never even showed me the way there.

Instead, when I opened the door, I found myself starring at a small, average-sized bedroom, sparsely furnished with a bed, a small desk and chair, and a reading lamp. There were no pictures on the walls, and there was nothing on the desk except the lamp and something brownish obscured by the stack of papers. The walls were white, and there wasn't a speck of dust or mess visible anywhere.

You know how people say the way you decorate your room says a lot about your personality? How the colour of your walls and the mess and the way you arrange the pictures of your friends describe your tastes and can reveal your inner thoughts to anyone who bothers deciphering them? Well, Simon's room had looked like it'd been hit with an explosion of him: pictures scattered everywhere, so many sketches hung up that the walls underneath couldn't be seen… but Derek's? There was nothing in this room that could even remotely remind me of him. Everything was just blank, like he'd been afraid to do leave something behind that could indicate he'd been here.

Like he'd been afraid to put down roots or get comfortable here.

He was afraid to do anything because he knew he'd have to leave eventually. He could never be sure of how long he'd be around, because ... well, look what happened. He never knew what hit him.

I chocked back a sob, because, just like how I'd been sure of Simon's motives before, I was sure of Derek's. One look at this room and I knew what he'd never even revealed to me: he'd been walking on eggshells his entire life, subconsciously preparing for the day when he'd have to leave for good. The place was almost as bad as the cells in the Edison Group's HQ – devoid of any sense of home and just… cold. Very, very cold.

I took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold.

I crossed over to his bed and sat down carefully, making sure I supported my weight so that the springs wouldn't squeak and alert Simon and Tori of my whereabouts - they'd freak out if they knew what I was doing, because they knew it was the last thing I should be doing in the state I was in. I gripped the end of the bed with both hands, breathing in through my nose slowly, trying to fight the increasing sense of panic. I felt like I was drowning again, but this time, I knew I wasn't going to find something under the black waves - I was wide awake, right smack in the middle of a nightmare.

You can do this. You can do this, I told myself, repeating the mantra a few times. Focus. What are you here to do?

The files. I stood up and made my way over to the desk. There was a stack of papers and organizational files piled on top of each other, and a few were sticking out, as if they'd been re-stacked quickly. That's weird. I wasn't sure if I was over-thinking it, but those loose papers were so out of place in Derek's pristine room that I immediately grew suspicious. I lifted the piles off the desk and brought them over to the bed.

I began to flip through the pages, letting the rest of the world fall away for a moment. Most of the pages were in Derek's handwriting, and my heart would ache a little every time I read another word - I found myself obsessing over the curve of the b's and the way his t's never touched the bottom line - but I kept going, intent on finding out what Derek had been so keen on documenting and researching. I felt like I had to know; had to read every single piece of paper, front and back. I knew Derek had a reason to keep all of these meticulous notes, and I was pretty sure it had something to do with taking down the Edison Group.

I opened the first file folder. It was unmarked and not labeled, but just reading the first line of the first page told me what it contained: "subject was genetically modified in-vitro, resulting in heightened supernatural abilities..."

I closed my eyes for a second. Everything in this file was about one of the 'experiments' - people like Simon, Tori, Derek, and I. Everything we could ever need to know was laid out in front of me, the secrets begging to be read. I hesitated for a few seconds; I knew we needed the information in these files, and I knew they could contain something that could tip the scales in our favour, but… inside, I was still debating whether or not I should keep going. We needed the information… but were we ready for it? Were we prepared to deal with the consequences of finding out things about ourselves even we didn't know? I pondered that for a second, weighing the pros and cons. I could always give them to Tori and Simon to read, I thought. I don't even have to listen when they read them. I could tell them to keep it to themselves or something… I had no doubt that they would honour my wishes, but something about finding the files in Derek's room – frankly, the fact that they were the only thing Derek had cared enough about to keep close – drew me to them and the knowledge contained within.

No, I decided finally. It has to be me.

I skimmed the first few pages, looking for a name. Certain phrases caught my eye, and I couldn't help but shudder a few times as I read about what had been done to us: some may think them cross-breeds; abominations... There was more. The report went into more detail, describing one of the many 'specimens': subject 13 is the product of a union between a witch and a sorcerer, which usually results in stronger-than-average abilities. The mother of said child requested that the child be included in this experiment, against the advice of our scientists. The subject is currently under the supervision of her mother. I stopped reading for a second, unable to believe what I'd just read. What kind of mother would put her kid into this crazy experiment when she already has heightened abilities? I shook my head and kept reading, deciding that she was probably one of those pageant moms that everyone's afraid of.

I kept reading, but it just kept getting worse.

There was one line that chilled me to the bone: the subject is thought to have immeasurable powers, hindered only by the fact that she is unaware of the extent of her abilities. She is already a danger to us all and must be terminated if she cannot be controlled. This is our only option.

I found the subject's name on the very last page of the report.

Victoria Enright.

Tori.

I dropped the file, hands trembling uncontrollably. Tori's a half-witch, half-sorcerer crossbreed? Her dad's a sorcerer? Does she know already? A billion little questions flooded my mind, but I couldn't answer any of them myself. Could Tori already know about her extraordinary biological make-up? I remembered her telling me she didn't know who her father was - she thought he had been normal; a human who walked out on her and her mother - but this was insane. How powerful could she possibly be, if being a 'half-breed' already elevated her powers? What I'd seen was probably nothing compared to what she could do, having magic on both sides in addition to being genetically modified…

I was so caught on the truth about Tori's parents that I didn't put all the pieces together – didn't realize what it all meant.

Then it hit me: these were Derek's files. He'd read them, gone through each, memorizing important facts. Which meant Derek had known – he'd known who Tori was and what she was before he'd even met her! It explained everything: his distrust of her, his barely-concealed hatred…

His attitude towards her... he'd been afraid of what she could do to us, and of what the Edison Group was willing to do to get her back. He probably thought she was one of them too, just waiting for the right time to drag us back to headquarters.

I felt a chill up the length of my spine. "She is already a danger to us all and must be terminated if she cannot be controlled. This is our only option." Had they been exaggerating? I didn't want to think of Tori as someone who could be a danger to us, but after reading this file… I didn't know what to think anymore.

I started flipping through pages like a madwoman, desperate to find more, but there was nothing more about Tori in the stack - it was all research done by Derek. There were maps with red lines drawn across countries, and news articles about wild animals attacking people in forest at night near New York City a few years ago, but nothing more about Tori. Nothing at all. It seemed like whoever had secured these files from the Edison Group had only managed to steal one or two pages from the file; I would have to investigate further on my own.

I kept flipping through the stack, stopping abruptly when I spotted Simon's name staring up at me from what looked like a page from a report like the one about Tori.

Subject is the son of one of our most respected leaders, Christopher Bae. The child is afflicted with diabetes, and while he showed no signs of increased abilities, we believe our modifications are responsible for the child's contraction of this disease. However, if the experiment was indeed successful, then this is a small price to pay. In this case, the ends justify the means.

There was more, but it wasn't anything I didn't know already: it talked about how Simon seemed like a normal, well adjusted kid, and that the Edison Group was confident that his powers would manifest themselves when he turned 13. There was nothing about Simon's progress after the age of seven - that was when Kit disappeared with Simon and Derek, I realized. These files… these things are almost ten years old! These must be the originals… or one of the first copies, at least. Like our unofficial birth certificates or something.

I put down the report about Simon and kept looking, sifting through the piles at top speed.

Ten minutes later, I'd flipped through more than half the entire stack without finding so much as a scrap of paper about myself. I had, however, found something about a 'Rachelle', who I was sure was Rae - the girl we'd met on the street. She'd been the one with us that night - the one who'd given us up to the Edison Group…

For some reason, I found myself remembering the way her eyes had looked as she stared into the flame of the lighter. If I hadn't seen that… would I still have stopped to talk to her? I thought about it, feeling the guilt weighing me down more than ever. If I hadn't talked to her, we would have never brought her back to the house with us, and she would never have- I looked up, trying to blink away the tears and clear my head. Focus. Focus! This is no time for that! There's no time to break down now!

That was when I saw it, laying there on the desk like it'd just been knocked over: a small brown wolf figurine.

I stood up slowly, and my vision tunneled - all I could see was the little statue, and I forgot all about the files for a moment. I walked over to the desk slowly, afraid for some reason that if I moved too fast, the little wolf would disappear forever. I had to get near it – had to hold it after so long. I couldn't believe what I was seeing; it wasn't possible. Not after so long…

I picked it up tentatively, feeling the cold, sculpted figure in my hands. I stroked it with the very tips of my fingers, trying to make sure that it was really, truly there, because I was having trouble believing it had reappeared after all these years…

It was the figurine I'd given Derek the year he'd finally told me he was a werewolf.

Looking back, it seemed like some sort of cruel joke on my part: it was the only thing I'd ever given Derek, and it reminded him of everything he hated about himself - everything he didn't want to be. He'd been so afraid of what he might become for so many years, and now... Well, he needn't have worried, should he?

I stopped fighting the tears and let them flow freely.

This wolf was the only thing he had put in his room. It was the only thing he had felt was important enough to keep in his room other than the files, and I was pretty sure I knew why: the first reason (I hoped) was because it was from someone he loved. The second reason: because it was a constant reminder of why he couldn't, shouldn't love her. He was a werewolf – something I never seemed to remember. I never thought of him that way. As "Derek the werewolf". He had always just been Derek to me.

I was reminded of the conversation we'd had a few days after he'd appeared on my porch:

"You know, I bet you could've taken them if you'd hurried up and grown that tail already," I'd teased, trying to get his mind off finding Simon and his dad. "I bet you could've taken them with one paw tied behind your back!"

He hadn't said anything, and we'd lapsed into an awkward silence for a few moments. Finally, I asked the question that'd been nagging me for so long.

"Why do you think you haven't Changed yet?"

He'd shrugged - probably to buy himself some time to come up with something, since he'd already known about the genetic modifications the Edison Group had done on us. "Everyone's different, I guess... to be honest with you, I'm glad I haven't - I'm not in any rush, Chlo, and it's not like it's something to look forward to."

"But... You don't want your powers?" I'd asked, confused. I knew my powers were nothing to get excited about - they were more of a curse than anything else - but I didn't understand what reason Derek could have for not wanting his… I, personally, thought turning into a wolf would be pretty cool.

I tried again. "Aren't you curious about your abilities at all?"

He'd shaken his head and smiled a sad smile. "It's not that simple... It's all in the luck of the draw, ya know? I have no idea who my father was, and non-Pack wolves have a higher chance of losing control and going after people they lo- care about and becoming like-"

I'd grabbed his hand to silence him. "Stop worrying, Derek! You'll be fine! And if you try to take a bite outta me… well, I could always put a muzzle on you or something." I'd winked, and he'd laughed, but I'd known his heart wasn't in it.

I snapped back to reality, angry with myself - he'd been afraid of putting down roots and terrified of what he'd become, and I gave him this stupid wolf statue to remind him of all that? What the hell is wrong with me?

I gripped the statue tighter and sat down on the bed again. The only thing I ever gave him was this stupid wolf. The only things he had in his room were those files and this stupid little statue. He thought it was important, that he should keep it close…

Then, before I realized what I was doing, I threw it - more like whipped it, actually - against the wall. It shattered into a billion pieces, and I put my hands in front of my face to protect my eyes from flying debris. I lowered my hands once I was sure the dust had settled, resting my head in my hands as the tears began to come faster and faster, trying to beat each other out. I could hear Tori and Simon's voices coming from the kitchen, but I didn't answer - they'd find me eventually.

"CHLOE? WHAT'S GOING ON?"

"CHLOE?"

I heard the sound of slamming doors and hurried footsteps, but they became quiet after a while - they'd realized where I was.

The door creaked open slowly, and I heard an intake of breath from Tori. In my head, I knew what she must be thinking: that I was about to explode or something, the way I'd acted before. She was probably cursing herself for every letting me wander off, or quite possibly trying to come up with a way to calm me down.

You know that state, where everything is wrong and you feel like your entire life is falling apart? I'd gotten used to that state – hell, I was almost comfortable in that state – but how I felt now was like someone had amplified it one hundred thousand times and set off some sort of atomic bomb. I was now in that place where you start to cry and you can't stop no matter how hard you try, and you keep asking yourself, 'what's the point'? because your mind goes into this deep philosophical thought process, and you go on these everlasting rants that completely disregard the laws of punctuation and no matter what you think about, it somehow always leads you back to the same spot you started: your life is going to shit, and all you have to look forward to is the fact that it might (quite possibly, in my case) be over soon. And then, when you try to figure out why you feel this way, or try to convince yourself that everything happens for a reason, we all have a purpose, etc… it doesn't comfort you. This method fails to work every time. Every time, because if people base their lives on the principle that they should have some sort of point or meaning, then all they'll be living for is the knowledge that they must eventually fulfill that purpose; do whatever needs to be done. And that would be fine and dandy, were it not for a little problem: no one has ever been able to prove that there is, in fact, a point to all of it.

That's because there is no point. End of story.

So what were we doing here? What were we you living for? What are any of us living for, for that matter? We were of the few people on Earth who already knew their purpose - to help the Edison Group destroy any resistance and dominate the supernatural community – so why weren't we doing it? Why weren't we jumping at the chance to? Why were we fighting our 'destinies'?

A few seconds later I felt the bed sink on either side of me, but I didn't react – I was already thinking about nothing and everything; too many things to mention and not enough to count for much.

"Chloe?" Tori put her hand on my back, but Simon didn't move or say a word. I could hear him breathing softly next to me, which was a small comfort – he'd gotten to his insulin and given himself the correct dose. We were in the clear again, ready to set out.

I didn't answer, and I heard Tori curse softly under her breath – I guessed she was looking around the room, assessing both the amount of damage I'd caused and the situation. Then, suddenly, she stood up, and I heard the door close after her footsteps receded.

She'd left me alone in Derek's room with Simon.

This realization was enough to clear my mind for a few seconds, bringing me back from whatever part of my mind those depressing thoughts had crawled out of. I didn't dare move, though, just in case - even though the amount of tears had diminished, I didn't want Simon to see how much of a mess I was. I'm the 'leader'. I promised I'd get this under control, and what did I do? They let me wander off for a few minutes and I manage to have a full-blown meltdown! I thought bitterly, attempting to pull myself back together. I took a few deep breaths and ran a hand through my hair, hoping to make myself look a little bit less insane.

Eventually I gave up and rested my head in my hands again, continuing my deep breathing. It was quiet for a while, but then Simon cleared his throat quickly and mumbled, "I guess you found his room, huh?"

I lifted my head up and looked at him in my peripheral, then slowly straightened up and looked away.

Simon continued to speak in a calm, quiet voice. "You know, he hated it in here," he said, laughing nervously for a second before he let it die out. "He liked the library more; did you see the library? It's just down the hall, you know…"

"It's empty, Simon," I whispered, voice hoarse.

"The library? Are you sure? 'Cause that was the one room other than the bedrooms that we didn't pack up before, so it should still-"

"Not the library!" I hissed. "This room! It's completely empty, Simon! Empty! There was nothing here except the files and that damned wolf!" I saw him recoil – I hadn't realized I'd been yelling, but since I was already on a roll…

"None of this makes sense!" I cried. To be truthful, it'd been a long night, devoid of sleep, so there wasn't much that would've made sense had it been a normal day…

"What kind of kid has no worldly possessions? What kind of kid doesn't have some sort of security blanket or favourite toy or something? Your room is where your whole life is, and he didn't even have piggy bank!" I knew I'd stopped making sense a while ago, but I couldn't stop. I knew I should be asking him about the files, or planning our next move like the good leader I was trying to be, but… I just. Couldn't. Stop. In fact, I was somewhere between hysteria and complete mental breakdown. "And where are the pictures, Simon? Where are the damned pictures?"

I was crying again, but Simon had pulled me into a hug, so my tears only stained his shirt. I tried to pull back – he was probably terrified of me at that point – but he held me tightly, not letting go at all. I gave up after a few seconds and let myself go limp and cry a little more – before whispering that it was okay to let go of me. I don't know how long I cried, but it felt like only a few seconds to me. I was sure time had passed more quickly – maybe twenty minutes or so had elapsed already? – but there was no way to tell where we were.

"Are you sure?" he asked, arms still around me. I ensured him I was, and he let go slowly, as if any sudden movement could set me off.

I leaned back and laid down so that my back was flat on the bed while my legs hung off the sides. "I'm sorry about that," I said, trying to calm myself down a little more and prove that I wasn't insane. "I don't know why I did that; I just came to find the files…"

He raised an eyebrow and shook his head disappointedly. "Don't gimme that, Chlo – I know you better than that. You wanted to see his room, didn't you?"

I closed my eyes in reply. When I reopened them, he shook his head sadly and looked away.

I watched him study the files out of the corner of his eye for a few seconds, but he didn't say a word about them – he was just looking for a distraction, something to look at while he waited for me to pull it together again. He knew I had appointed myself the leader of our trio, and he was letting me keep the charade going.

"How do you do it?" I asked, breaking the silence. "How can you hold it together like that, being in here right now?"

"Delayed reaction," he said, the same sad smile on his face. "Probably the adrenalin or something; later, when it all sinks in, I'll probably be in even worse a state than you were just now…" he admitted, trailing off.

I shook my head. Delayed reaction my ass. You're feeling it all now; the only difference is you're forcing it all down because you can't deal with it yet.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and exhaled shakily, adding in a nervous little laugh for Simon's benefit – I needed him to see I was alright, or he and Tori would be making decisions without me more often than they already were.

"I'm not in a 'state'! I'm completely and totally okay! I just had a little-" I caught myself before saying 'lapse in sanity' and tried something else. "The freaky mood-swings stop here, I swear."

A nod. His eyes were distant, and he was intently focused on the patch of duvet in front of him – he was avoiding my gaze again.

He looked up after a few seconds. There was something in his eyes that kept me from asking what was wrong, and when he spoke, his tone had shifted as well. "Can I… can I tell you something?" he whispered. I nodded – it seemed like the only thing to do.

"I know you're not okay, all right? I know. No matter how much you try to hide it, I can see it. It's written all over your face. And I know you're trying to hide it from us, but I can tell. And it's cool, you know? Crying for a few hours one night isn't gunna make you feel better, and neither is crying every night for the next couple of years. We have to learn to deal with it, make it a part of our lives, and keep going. We have to keep going, or else… or else …"

He took a deep breath. "When we were in the compound, I tried to—to-"

I sat up slowly and touched his hand comfortingly. "You don't have to try and make me feel better. I'll be fine soon."

"Yes, I do, Chloe. You and Tori… you guys have done so much for me, and you deserve to know why you had to do so much, ya know? I'm not usually so high-maintenance!" he chuckled, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

Except I knew what he was trying to tell me - he was trying to tell me what had happened to him in the Edison Group's headquarters, and there is absolutely no way to lighten the mood during that conversation.

"Look, I just want you to know that it's okay to not feel okay. It really is! Because you know what? I don't feel better either – neither does Tori, for that matter! – but we have to keep going and keep our heads up, or..."

Another deep breath, and he spoke. "… or you could end up like me," he said, saying it all so fast that it sounding like a single syllable. "You could end up doing something so completely stupid and dangerous that you never forgive yourself."

He locked eyes with me. "When we were in the compound, I stopped taking my insulin. I stopped caring, because I'd heard about Derek and I didn't know whether or not I could trust you, and… I just gave up. I just stopped taking my meds.

"After about a day I felt so sick that I couldn't focus, but even then I still didn't take my meds."

I put my hand over his, trying to reassure him. Imagine what it's like, trying to tell your best friend that you attempted suicide. Imagine how hard this is for him. He has no idea how you'll react, but he's still risking it.

"Simon, you don't have to keep going. I understand-"

He looked so far away as he said, "You don't understand! I was being selfish and only thinking of myself! I wanted to die, Chlo, and I didn't care that it might hurt you or even Tori. I just … couldn't take it anymore. I was like I was unraveling a little more every day, and then…"

He pulled his hand out from underneath mine. "I wanted to die; I really, really did. I thought I could make it happen right there and then – just end it. I probably would have, too, if Davidoff hadn't come in to check on me."

"Simon, I-" I wanted to tell him that it was all right, that I did understand; I wanted to tell him that what I'd almost done when I was at my lowest and make him feel better about this, wanted to tell him that I'd been just as selfish – just as desperate. I wanted to tell him everything… but he cut me off before I could get a single word out.

"I'm okay now," he said, meeting my eyes again. "I'm trying, and every time it gets difficult, I think of Derek, and how pissed he would be at me if he ever found what I did…" he smiled slightly – a small twitch of the lips that I would've missed if I blinked.

He stood up and inched closer to the door. "And that's how I'm in here right now," he admitted. "Because I know my brother, and I know he hated this room – he said it reminded him of the place he grew up or something. His real room was the library, Chlo. It was the place you could always find him…" He smiled again, but it didn't touch his eyes. "Well, except for when he was with you."

I stood up too. My head was spinning: part of me was still stuck trying to figure out how to tell Simon about what I'd almost done, and the other part of me wanted to forget it completely. He told you, so you should man up and tell him! No, he doesn't need to know! He'll just get worried!

"Ready to go?" he asked, his tone considerably more cheerful.

"Simon, wait. I wanted to-"

"I know; you want to go home, don't you?" he said knowingly. "But you're worried, right?"

I nodded, defeated – if the Fates didn't want me to tell him, then I should probably keep it to myself. Don't get me wrong – I felt horrible, letting him think he was the only one who had ever hit rock bottom – but I knew that someday, when I was ready, I'd be able to tell him, and he'd understand. Someday soon.

"Knew it! Well, don't worry - I think it's worth the risk, since we need to get some food and stuff. There's nothing here except peanut butter, lumpy milk, and an old jar of pickles!" I made a face and tried to smile, because that was what you did when people were embarrassed and tried to change the subject.

Tori appeared in the doorway, her face a mask of calm. She glanced at Simon for a moment, and they shared a look as some silent message passed between them.

He went to stand at the door. "Anyways, Chloe, we're leaving soon… I already showered and everything, and Tori said she'll use Der—the other bathroom, so you can take your time, okay?" He left the room for a second and came back holding a few towels. He handed me a couple and sat down again, catching Tori's eye as he did so. I knew what that meant: "please go so we can talk. Thanks!" They were obviously keen to get rid of me again, and I did want a shower… I nodded, and they both left. I made my way back to the bathroom on the opposite end of the house, reminding myself to tell Tori and Simon about what I'd read when I was done.

I removed my dirty clothes and folded them, placing them on top of the toilet seat cover in a neat little pile. I turned on the water, waited a few seconds for it to heat up, then stepped under the spray, gasping a little the moment I felt it hit my face. It felt like it'd been years since I'd been clean, and the amount of dirt I managed to wash out of my hair didn't exactly help to reassure me. It'd only been two days, but in those two days I'd found out more than enough to make me want to forget – more than enough to make me wish I could just erase it all from my mind and start over.

I scrubbed my arms until they were raw and throbbing; I was trying to clean off the past few weeks – trying to get rid of the memories and the sounds and the smells of it all. I scrubbed and I scrubbed and I scrubbed until even my palms were raw, but even that didn't work – I could feel the secrets and the lies and the hate crawling around on my skin like hundreds of teeny tiny spiders. I gave up after a while and shut off the water, examining the damage: the skin on my shoulders was bright red and angry-looking, and just touching it was torture.

Great. Just great.

I got out and dried off, wincing as the towel touched my shoulder. I mentally cursed my own stupidity as I got dressed, pulling on my dirty clothes slowly as an idea began to form in my head. I left the bathroom and returned to Derek's room. My backpack was lying on the floor where I'd left it. I picked it up and crossed over to the bed, unzipping it as silently as I could.

I grabbed the stack of files I'd already read and placed them inside, careful to remove the page about Tori. I folded in into quarters and shoved it inside my pocket. She doesn't need to know yet. Once this is over, I'll tell her, but for now… she needs to be focused. We all do.

I picked up the small pile of papers I hadn't read and read a few more. There were only about 10 pages left, and I figured I'd read them while I waited for Tori to finish up in the shower. The first few were just more of the same – maps with lines crisscrossing the country, news articles, and other things that I would've spent more time on if I hadn't been trying to avoid thinking about Derek. I kept flipping until something caught my eye: my own name.

My hands were shaking again, and I forced myself to stop and take a deep breath – it wasn't like it was a surprise, finding out I'd been genetically modified… but what if my file was like Tori's? What if I read something that changed everything I knew about myself and my life?

What could change your life more than your best friend dying trying to save you?

Point taken.

I began to read.

This specimen was a rare find; an honour for our little group. Necromancers are an 'endangered species', if you will, and it was certainly lucky that we happen to have a family living nearby...

The modifications were done in-vitro, and the child was brought in for monitoring every few months until the age of 5 or so. It was observed that the mother and father of the child were becoming anxious to leave the study, but when confronted, they refused to leave the child behind. They reluctantly agreed to allow us to continue our study, but disappeared a few weeks later, somehow managing to do so under the watch of thirty of our best-trained half-demon guards.

This child must be found, as she is the deciding factor in this war. She will be found and trained, and our army will become truly unstoppable.

Then, written in the margin: who could win a fight against dead man? A thousand of the same? We will crush the resistance when she is found.

The room was spinning. I felt like was going to puke and faint all at once. They want me to raise an army of zombies to help them take over permanently? Is that even possible? Could I ever do such a thing?

I tried to calm myself down, telling myself that the most I had ever raised was a few rabbits… it was too late. The thought had planted itself inside my head - burrowed deep inside and attached itself to my brain. There was no getting rid of it now.

My God. If they think I can do this, then…

I kept reading, trying to distract myself from the screaming going on inside my skull. I skipped over the part about physical description and focused on the part about supervision and monitoring.

Subject was under the supervision of her parents and the Edison Group before they fled. Our agents are currently attempting to locate them and remove the child from their care. She MUST be retrieved. The ends will justify the means.

The ends will justify the means.

And even though I'd been suspecting it since I'd found out about the Edison Group – hell, Davidoff had practically told me himself – I felt myself losing it. They killed my parents. They tracked us down and caused that accident, knowing I'd be the only survivor. They were probably watching from the side of the road while I cried over my parent's dead bodies.

The tears were obscuring my vision, but I kept reading.

Subject will be under constant supervision of one of our agents once she is found.

I was shaking so bad that I couldn't read the words on the page. One of their agents? Did that mean that there had been someone watching me since the night of my parents' deaths? I suddenly felt cold again, despite the scalding-hot shower I'd just taken.

I turned the page, desperate to find out more.

There was nothing else about me.

I flipped through the last few pages, desperate for another scrap of information, but there was nothing else. I shoved the rest of the papers into my backpack angrily, then zipped it up and put it on.

"CHLOE? ARE YOU READY?" Tori called, finally done with her shower.

"COMING!" I called back. I looked around one last time and crossed over to the door. I was about to exit the room for good when I saw the closet door out of the corner of my eye.

I stopped, turned around, and pulled it open. There was nothing special about it; no monsters jumped out screaming 'BOO!', and nothing seemed out of the ordinary… I pulled out a sweater – one of the ones he'd worn regularly – and hugged it for a second before folding it neatly, unzipping my backpack, and stuffing it inside.

I straightened up and walked out of the room, weighed down with a backpack (and a head) full of secrets.

The door slammed shut behind me.

A/N: I hope you liked it! I realize not much happened in this chapter, but it was necessary, ya know?

Shoutouts to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I know I haven't replied to everyone's reviews, but I appreciate every single one! Next chapter will have a massive shoutout by names, kay? :)

Also, if anyone's read any good books lately, let me know! I need ideas for my holiday wish list, and I'm planning on raiding chapters this weekend. I'll even give you a recommendation from me (and burning, since she gave it 5 stars on Goodreads): Amy & Roger's Epic Detour. It is quite lovely, so check it out!

Leave me some reviews please, darlings! I'd love to hear some theories about what you thinks gunna happen next! MINI CONTEST: the person who guesses the closest gets to read pre-read the next few chapters! Sound good?

REVIEW!