"Do you call your parents?"

Tim is taken aback the question. In all the months they had spent together when they had been searching for Alex, they had never asked each other about their parents. Or their families, their friends, anything about their lives before this whole thing really. They had just accepted each other in a needed partnership to defeat…all that they had been fighting then. So it's strange to Tim to hear Jay ask such a question as they drive along a seemingly endless highway towards Becky's hometown.

Tim throws Jay a strange look. "Where'd that question come from?" They had been traveling for nearly an hour now. The radio had been playing softly, providing the only relief from the tense silence that had overtaken the car when they had first left the café. Jay had sat rigidly in his seat, staring out of the passenger window, jaw set. He did not acknowledge Tim, and Tim did not bother to try and prompt Jay into talking. But as the hour went on, Jay slowly loosened into a more slouched position; it wasn't exactly a sign of relaxation – more of a stance of defeat. When Jay seemed to have finally put the café discussion to the back of his mind, he had asked the question.

Jay shrugs. "I used to call my parents, at the beginning of this whole thing. Once every few weeks or so. But as time went on and I got more involved…I don't know, I just…forgot. Well, I didn't forget them – I knew I had parents. I remembered their names, I remembered their faces, their voices. But then one day, my hand just hovered over the phone – I couldn't remember what their number was, and I couldn't find them in my contacts. It was terrifying and yet, at the same time, I didn't seem all that bothered by it. As though my mind was too…brainwashed, or muddled or whatever, to even register that that was a bad thing.

"Their voices were the next thing to go…after a while, I couldn't even remember what they looked like." He pauses. "I think I know their names though. I think my dad's name starts with a 'J' too. James, maybe. My mom…I think her name is Mary. Or Margaret. I remember the names sometimes, but it's a fleeting moment, whenever my mind happens to absentmindedly go back to before all of this." He watches his fingers, which are tracing the outline of the door's handle. "I wonder if they had ever looked for me, after I had stopped calling." His hand pauses, the slim fingers trembling ever so slightly. "Or maybe they forgot me too." Up to this point, whenever Tim spared Jay a glance, he could see no sign in Jay's posture or expression that what he was saying was disturbing him. But as Jay says the last sentence, Tim catches a flicker of the deepest kind of sorrow on Jay's face. It is quick, fleeting, but there all the same.

Tim is quiet. He lets Jay's words trail off into the air, mixing in with the soft voice coming from the radio. He runs his hand up the steering wheel, trying to think of an appropriate response.

"I don't remember my dad." He finally says. Jay tilts his head to look at Tim; Tim does not return the gaze – if he does, he's sure he'll loose his nerve and stop talking. "Not in the way you don't remember your parents. My dad – he…wasn't around when I was little. I think he was at the beginning. But then I started going to the doctor. I saw a lot less of both of my parents, but the dad…it was like he had completely disappeared. I asked my mom about him; at first she tried apologizing for him, making excuses. But it wasn't long before she stopped talking about him and I stopped asking." He takes a deep breath, feeling awkward saying all of this out loud to another person. "My mom, she kept up with me. Not as frequently as the typical mom probably would've with a kid in a mental institution, but I guess she had other things to worry about. Anyway, after I got out, we kept in contact. It was just very limited, and very…emotionless? Stoic? I don't know…it felt like we kept up with each other out of social obligation more than anything else." He pauses, and almost laughs in bitterness at the next thought. "For some reason, I never had problems remembering her during the time you and I hunted Alex." He presses his lips together, thinking. "Maybe it was because I'd already been dealing with this thing for pretty much as long as I remember. So my mom – or my thoughts, memories of her – weren't compromised because she had been in my life as long as that thing had." He shrugs. "I still kept up with her through these past two years, though I never told her exactly where I lived. I mean, we're far from being the prime example of the ideal mother-son relationship…but I still don't want to risk endangering her in some way."

Jay sits quietly, his eyes staring directly ahead as he listens. "I'm sorry I dragged you back into this," he finally whispers.

Tim looks at Jay with sharp, questioning eyes. "What?"

Jay presses his mouth into a thin line to keep his lips from trembling. "I'm sorry. It's like you had told me that night in the parking lot after you had found out about me posting everything on the Marble Hornets channel. You were doing fine, you were getting better. But I just couldn't keep you out of it – my selfish need for answers brought you back into this, and ruined everything you had worked for in overcoming what you had been fighting your whole life. It's my fault that you're here, that you had to go through all of that." He exhales a shuddering sob. "I'm so sorry, Tim."

Then Jay is nearly thrown out of his seat as Tim yanks the steering wheel to the right, pulling them off of the highway and onto the dirt-covered shoulder. Tim slams on the brakes and pulls the car into park, then jerks around in his seat to face Jay.

"Shut up," he growls, jamming his finger at a shocked Jay's face. "Just shut up, Jay. You were not selfish – you were searching for your friend. Yes, you pulled me back in, but it wasn't because you were being 'selfish' – you were doing it because you needed help, and I was the logical person to go to. It took me a while to understand that, but I do now. So just stop."

Jay's eyes are wide, and indecision to believe Tim's words radiates across his face. A moment passes, the two men's gazes never wavering from each other. Neither moves to say anything. Tim turns away, not bothering to wait any longer for an answer, and pulls them back onto the highway.

They do not speak. Jay looks down at his hands in his lap and twists them slowly, biting his lip. Once or twice he opens his mouth, but his breath hitches in his throat and his clamps his mouth shut before a sound can get out. Tim just turns up the radio volume and keeps his eyes on the road ahead. He feels like he should say something else to Jay, but can't think of anything that could possibly be helpful or appropriate. So he doesn't speak, and Jay continues to stare at his hands.

The next few hours go by agonizingly slow. Tim and Jay continue to sit in silence, breaking it only to help direct each other to Becky's house once they get close enough. By the time they get to her neighborhood, the sky has darkened to a static gray, covered in stormy clouds and threatening to pour down on them any minute. But it does not rain; the weather simply continues to tease them with the dim sky and the damp scent of the oncoming storm.

Becky's house is an average size, surrounded by a large patch of grass with a large tree looming over the edge of its roof. It's a single-story made of brick, with a narrow front porch and a cobblestone walkway leading up to the porch stairs. There are no cars parked out front, and the cream-colored garage door is shut.

Tim parks in the street, and he and Jay make their way up to the porch cautiously. Jay holds the camera, filming the entirety of the house as they approach it. They walk up the porch steps, the stairs creaking under their weight. Two wind chimes hang from the porch roof, tinkling lightly in the air. Tim steps ahead of Jay and knocks three sharp raps on the door.

A few seconds pass, and then the door creaks open. A thin, petite girl stands there. She looks to be a few years younger than Jay and Tim. Her blonde hair hangs over her shoulders in waves, and her hazel eyes look up at the two men with hesitant caution. She hangs onto the door with one hand, as though ready to slam it back in their faces. "Yes?" Her eyes narrow at them for a moment in distrust, and then suddenly widen. She glances between their two faces in shock, then notices the camera in Jay's hand.

"Oh my gosh…Tim?" Her jaw drops. "Jay? Is it really you guys? I thought – I didn't think you'd really come! And Jay! Jay! I thought – I thought Alex – had…"

An amused grin almost tugs at the corner of Tim's mouth. He glances at Jay, who is trying to give the girl a reassuring smile, though the apprehension is clear on his face. Tim looks back at the girl. "Becky, right? Can we…can we come in?"

"Yes! Yes, of course!" She steps back, holding the door open for them and allowing them to walk inside.

The house is dimly lit, with thin curtains half-way pulled over the windows, keeping a lot of what is left of the daylight out. The living room that they had stepped into is decorated with furniture that looks like it all came from the 1960's. A lamp sits on an end table, its artificial light mixing in with the natural light and creating an odd glow for the room. It looks like no one else is in the house – everything is completely still, almost eerily so.

"Go ahead and sit on the couch," Becky says, gesturing. She pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear, clearly flustered. "I – uh, are you guys thirsty? Do you need anything?"

"No, we're fine," Tim reassures her. He looks around. "So, uh…can we talk?"

"Yes, of course!" Becky sits in a chair opposite of the couch Tim and Jay are sitting in. She brushes at her pants with nervous hands. "I just…thank you for coming. I can't believe you actually did. It's just…it's been so long."

"I know," Tim says heavily. "And I'm sorry about that. There's…it's just been…a lot's been going on."

Becky nods her head in understanding. Then she looks at Jay, disbelief clear on her face. "But, Jay…Alex had shot you. That thing…how'd you get back? When did you get back? I haven't seen a new entry…" She glances at the camera, which Jay had set down on an end table and angled it so it was filming all three of them.

Jay rubs a hand across the back of his head. "Yeah. About that." He gives a hollow laugh. "We don't know exactly what happened either. I just…kinda woke up in Rosswood a few days ago. Tim found me, and we've been trying to figure out where I've been. I don't remember anything."

"Oh." There's disappointment on Becky's face, and sympathy. She bites her lip, as though wanting to say something comforting or helpful but not knowing how she could possibly help.

Jay shifts awkwardly in his seat, then waves a hand sheepishly. "But that's not why we're here," he says, attempting to steer the conversation away from him. "Your sister…we read your messages about her and…well, we'd like to help out."

"Can you tell us exactly what's been going on?" Tim asks.

Becky runs a hand down a lock of her hair again. "Yeah…um, well it started a few months after you had uploaded the last entry. Just little things, here and there. May had started bringing up this new 'friend' she had, every once in a while. Slipping it into normal conversations, casually mentioning it from time to time. Like how her 'friend' watched her walk to school, or how he liked it when she would come to the park. Apparently he doesn't like it that I would always go with her. She told me it makes him mad. It was really freaking me out. I knew she was too old for an imaginary friend, but I never saw anyone with us when we were out together. Then one day I saw a drawing she was working on. It was of the park we go to. She had drawn a bunch of trees, and in front of them was a man in a suit…he had no face." Becky's voice was getting shaky now. "I knew then. I knew it had to be that thing that had been following you guys. But how could it be? I don't see how that's possible. And why would he want to follow May, of all people? She just a little girl. She's not connected to you guys in anyway." Tim can't help but notice the slightly accusing tone Becky suddenly takes on. "I thought it was attached to you! How could it have come to her?" She bites her lip. "I'm sorry. I just…I'm really scared. I'm in college, but I decided to live at home so I can look after May. My parents, they're not helping in the slightest." She pauses. "I don't know if I should take her to a doctor. But…what if they take her away, or something?"

Tim and Jay exchange a glance. "Look, Becky," Tim says with a sigh. "I know this is really scary. I mean, it still freaks me out, and I've been dealing with it my entire life." He stops, trying to find the words. "We're going to try and help May as much as we can."

"What can you do?" Becky asked, the question teetering between hope and hopelessness.

"Well, the best advice we can give is my medication," Tim says. "It seems to work best in countering that thing. You've seen the entries – you've seen what the medicine seems to be capable of. I don't know why, or how, but it works." He shifts in his seat, then pulls out his medication bottle. The pills rattle softly as he turns the medication label towards Becky. He holds it out, and she takes it, studying the label. "I hate to say this but, you're going to have to take May to the doctor. If this thing really is following her then she needs the help. She needs this medication."

Becky nods, running a hand over her mouth. She hands the medicine back to Tim, and tears brim her eyes as she speaks. "Will they take her away?" she whispers.

Tim hesitates. He looks at Jay, who looks just as distraught as Tim feels. "I can't say what they will do for sure," Tim says carefully. "Since you're getting her the help so soon after the symptoms have started, hopefully it won't worsen much past what the stages are already at. And since she has a stable home, I can't imagine that they would take her away like that. But she needs the help, Becky."

Becky blinks away the tears and inhales a shaky breath. "No. You're right; she does. I just…why did it come to her?"

Tim does not answer, and Jay finally speaks up after a moment's silence. "We think it attaches itself to people who have met Tim." He falters momentarily, noting the slight rigidness Tim's body has suddenly taken on. "Like how it had stalked Alex after he had met Tim through Marble Hornets."

"But May and I have never met you before," Becky says to Tim.

"Maybe you had met someone who has known Tim," Jay says. "It could work like a chain reaction."

Becky's eyes widen in horror. "But…it could spread so fast that way. Is there any way to stop it from spreading?"

Jay sighs heavily. "That's what we're trying to find out."

"And so far we've found out squat about it," Tim mutters bitterly.

Becky looks between the two men awkwardly, shifting her feet. Jay runs a hand down his jeans leg, glancing at Tim before refocusing his attention on Becky. "Becky…is it possibly for us to meet May?"

"No," Tim says suddenly. Becky and Jay look at him in surprise. "I don't want to see her. We could make it worse."

"The creature is already here, Tim," Jay says in faint annoyance. "Seeing her isn't going to make it follow her more."

"You don't know what it will do," Tim says harshly. "I'm the source, remember? I don't think meeting the source is going to do her any favors."

Jay gives Tim an exasperated look. He turns to Becky. "Well, it's your decision. Do you want us to meet her?"

"I don't know…" it's obvious that Tim's point has unnerved her slightly. She glances down the hallway. "She's playing in her room right now. She's been in there almost all afternoon…maybe I should go check on her anyway."

"She's quiet," Jay notes.

"Yeah. She always has been." Becky stands up, anxiety clear in every movement of her body and face. "I'll…I'll go check on her first. I'll be right back."

Jay nods, watching Becky walk down the narrow hallway. She stops at the second to last door on the left and knocks.

"May?" her voice drifts back to the living room softly. "May, sweetie? Can I come in?"

Jay and Tim can't hear an answer, though they assume it's because they're farther away and the door is still closed. They hear the bedroom door open, immediately followed by a horrified gasp.

"May?"

Jay and Tim jump to their feet at the sound of the terrified voice, Jay snatching up the camera. They glance at each other and then run down the hallway, halting at the bedroom doorway and staring in disbelief.

It's a small bedroom. The walls are painted a light purple, which coincide with the deep violet bed covers. A few coloring pages and flower posters had been pinned to the wall. Tim supposes they must have once looked rather cheery. Except now, the walls, furniture, and window are covered in black scribbles. Words so messily written they're almost unreadable, shapes that look vaguely like eyes, and that symbol. The circle with the "X" stricken through it. They're everywhere, marring the bedroom into a cavern of horror.

In the center of the floor sits a little girl. She is wearing a simple blue dress and her face is framed by a mane of blonde curls. Covering her arms are the same scribbles "decorating" the walls. In her hand is a single black marker. A coloring book lays open beside her, the horses that had once been on the pages scribbled out and blotted with the malicious symbol instead.

Becky is already kneeling at the girl's side, yanking the marker out of the small hand and tossing it across the room. "May! Oh my gosh, what happened? Are you alright? Sweetie, say something!"

May blinks at the now-empty hand that had been holding the marker. Her brow furrows slightly, and her eyes slowly move to sister's face. "Did he leave?"

Becky stares at May. "What?"

May glances to the window. "He was there. He wasn't happy for some reason. Then I found this marker. He was glad I did." Her head tilts up, and she catches sight of Tim and Jay standing in the doorway. She doesn't look surprised or disturbed to see them in the least. "Who are you?"

It takes a second for Jay's mouth to work. He licks his lips, his throat dry. "I'm Jay," he says. His voice sounds small, unnerved. He nods at Tim. "This is Tim." Tim does not move; honestly, he looks as though he's legitimately unable to speak in his shock.

"Oh." May tilts her head at them curiously. "Why are you here?"

Jay glances at Becky, who does not look at him; she is too preoccupied with her sister. Jay tries to smile at May, but he's sure it looks more of a grimace than anything. "We're here to talk to Becky. About…things."

"What sort of things?" May squints at the two men. "Do you know my friend?" Her gaze intensifies as it shifts to Tim. "I think you do. Does he talk to you too?"

Tim jerks a step back. His mouth opens, and for a moment all Jay can hear is ragged breathing.

Becky suddenly springs into action, tugging May so she has to turn and face her again. "Come on, sweetie, let's get you cleaned up."

"Will he be angry?" May asks, allowing Becky to pull her to her feet.

"No, honey. Tim's not angry." Becky's voice is steady – she's a lot better at keeping her composure than Jay had originally given her credit for.

"Not them," May says impatiently. "My friend."

Becky stops, her grip on Becky's arm tightening ever so slightly. She does not answer, and leads May across the room by the hand. Tim and Jay step aside to give them room to walk into the hallway. Tim takes a few steps further than necessary, his eyes never leaving May. Becky does not look at the two men as she nudges her sister into the bathroom across the hall from the bedroom. Only when May is standing before the sink does Becky turn to acknowledge them.

"Do you want us to go?" Jay asks gently.

Becky presses her lips together. "I don't know…maybe. No. No, please stay. Just wait in the living room. I don't know what…just please."

"Do you want us to help clean up her bedroom?"

"No." She looks almost alarmed at the idea of them – or anyone, maybe – going back in there. "Just wait in the living room."

Jay nods and begins walking down the hallway, Tim following closely. They sit back on the couch, and Tim leans forward, burying his face in his hands. "We shouldn't have come."

Jay grimaces, glancing down the hallway. He turns his camera over in his hands, but just ends up pointing it at the floor. "We didn't know that would happen. I mean –"

"Come on, Jay," Tim says. "That happened because we were here. Clearly this is the first time it's happened – and on the same day, the same hour we're here? Obviously that thing's influence becomes stronger when we're around. When I'm around."

"You don't know that," Jay retorts. "It could've been getting worse anyway. It could've just been a –"

"If you say coincidence I'm going to leave you on the side of a highway and never come back. When has anything in this whole mess been a coincidence?"

"I'm just trying to think of every possibility!"

"There's only one possibility – it's me. I'm the source; I'm the one who's infecting everyone."

"What are you going to do, Tim? Kill yourself? That won't solve anything; the chain reaction started a long time ago – it's too late to stop it now."

Tim looks furious. His jaw tightens, but before he can respond they hear the sound of the bathroom door opening. Both Tim and Jay turn their attentions to the hallway, watching as Becky leads a now-clean May into the living room. She spares them a glance, but steers May into the attached kitchen, sitting her at the table. Becky pulls out an orange from the refrigerator and sets it on the table along with a napkin. "I'm going to talk to Tim and Jay now, May. So just stay here. We're going to be right in the next room, okay?"

"Okay." May sounds completely content, as though nothing odd whatsoever had happened. Becky casts a final worried glance at her sister, then returns to the living room and sits back in the chair she had been in earlier.

"I'm sorry about that," she begins.

"No," Jay cuts in. "No, we're sorry. We shouldn't have come."

"No, I'm glad you did," Becky says honestly. "It's nice to talk to people who know what's going on."

Tim snorts softly at that.

"Or at least, can relate to what's going on." She pauses. "Thank you for the advice. I really do appreciate it." She runs a hand through her hair, glancing about her as though searching for what to say next. "So um…how's Jessica? Have you talked to her at all since you had uploaded Entry 87, Tim?"

Tim feels as though someone had frozen every bone in his body.

Jay's jaw drops slightly. He stares at Becky. "What?" he says, his voice choked.

Becky blinks in confusion at their reactions. "I…Jessica?" she prods. She looks at them quizzically. "You know, after Tim checked up on her. I just thought…I'd ask…" her voice dies as she watches the horror grow on the men's faces.

Tim knows he should be trying to stop Becky. Saying something to cut her off. But he feels as though his vocal chords have been grasped in a deathlike grip, cutting off all air, all words. All he can do is sit, frozen, as the secret he had been keeping from Jay for years comes crashing down around him.

Jay turns wide eyes onto Tim. "What is she talking about? Tim?"

Tim looks at Jay. "Jay…I…"

HE IS A LIAR

"I promise I was going to tell you…"

YOU ARE NOT TRUSTED

"Tell me what? Tim?" Jay's eyes are narrowing, his gaze hardening.

Becky looks between the two with growing apprehension. She fixes her eyes on Jay. "You don't know…?"

Jay snaps her gaze to Becky. "Know what?" He twists back to Tim, unsure who look at, who to press for answers. "Know what, Tim? Is there another entry? One you didn't show me?"

"We should go," Tim says, standing up. "We shouldn't talk about this here. Not in front of Becky and her sister."

"Right, because it obviously wasn't a good time to talk about before Becky even brought it up," Jay snaps, rising to his feet too.

"Jay," Tim warns. "Not here."

"I'm so sorry," Becky says timidly, her hand gripping the chair's armrest as she rises. "I didn't mean…I…"

"It's not your fault, Becky," Tim says calmly. Jay's jaw tightens. Tim glances at May, who's watching them with interest. "We have to go. I'll send you a message soon, I promise."

Becky just nods, glancing at Jay warily, who is almost shaking with rage.

"Thanks for letting us come over," Tim says. He gives Jay a stern glance, then nods to the door. Jay shoots Tim the most venomous look Tim has ever seen Jay give, but he starts heading towards the door.

"I'm sorry," Becky says again, her voice small.

Jay glances back at her. "It's not you who's at fault, Becky," he says, the words cold, accusing. But the undertone is not meant for Becky. Jay sighs as he sees the embarrassed expression on the girl's face. "We'll see you," he adds, his voice softer that time. Then he's gone.

Tim's hands have clenched into fists as he watches Jay leave, but he retains his composure and turns back to Becky. "Stay safe. We'll be in touch soon."

Becky nods, fear and apprehension so prominent in her eyes that the guilt mounts up in Tim higher than ever. "Here," Tim says, knowing this is not a good idea, but unable to not do something more with the look Becky is giving him. "Give me your number. I'll send you a text so you'll have mine, and if something comes up, message me."

"Oh…okay." Becky relays her number to Tim, who saves it to his phone and quickly sends her a text with his name in the content.

"Okay," Tim says. "We'll see you soon."

Becky nods, and Tim forces himself to turn away and leave the house.

Jay is almost to the end of the driveway, and looks like he might walk past Tim's car completely. The sky has darkened significantly, and Tim can feel tiny drops of rain hit his face as he hurries to catch up to Jay. He manages to cut off Jay's route, forcing him to stop beside the car.

"Get in," he orders.

"No."

"Get in. We're not going to do this in front of Becky's house."

Jay glances back at the said house. Gritting his teeth, he yanks open the car down and gets inside. Tim stalks around the car and gets into the driver's side.

"I thought, after everything, that we wouldn't keep secrets from each other. Not about things like this." They hadn't even pulled away from the curb yet, but Jay wastes no time in speaking. His words are cold, and his body rigid.

Tim bites his lip. He knew Jay would find out eventually, he just wishes it hadn't been like this. He opens his mouth to say something but Jay is already talking again.

"You have to tell me everything, Tim. Tell me the truth. What was Becky talking about? Is there another entry?"

Tim sighs in defeat. "Yes. There is an Entry 87. I…deleted it the day I showed you the Marble Hornets channel."

"Why?" Jay demands furiously.

Tim struggles to figure out how to explain everything. Explain why he'd been lying to Jay for years. "I thought it'd be safest for you. For her."

"For Jessica."

"Yes."

"So she's alive?" Jay seethes. "She's been alive this whole time – and you knew? You knew where she was?"

"...yes."

Jay grits his teeth. "How long?"

"I –"

"How long have you known?"

Tim's grip on the steering wheel tightens. "I don't know, exactly."

"Bullshit."

"I'm telling the truth," Tim says savagely. "Over time…I don't know, I just…knew. I knew where she was, I knew what had happened. It was sometime after we had woken up in that shack with the tape in my pocket. I think…I think that the…other me…the one in mask, had gotten her out. Saved her." He rubs a hand across his forehead. "I don't know for sure. But then I was suddenly helping her find a safe place to stay, I helped her check into my doctor's office, I helped her learn how to live and resist that thing's influence – as best I could, anyway. I kept her safe."

"Safe from that thing – or safe from me?" Jay asks angrily.

"From both of you," Tim snaps. "I knew that if you knew where she was, that she was alive, you'd go straight to her. You would reveal her location and put her in immediate danger. She would have been killed for sure if you had known about her. I did what I did to protect her."

"And what about me, Tim? What about me? I had searched for her for years. I thought she had been killed because of me. It was my fault, and I was desperate to find her. I went to that shack after you and I had our fight to look for her. I was attacked by that thing looking for her. You know that, you saw it on the tapes!" Jay runs a hand through his hair. "Damn it, Tim, if you had just told me, I wouldn't have gone through that tunnel. I wouldn't have been…changed by that thing. It did something to me, and that could've been prevented if you had just told me!"

Realization of the truth of Jay's words crash onto Tim with brute force. "I…Jay…I'm sorry…"

YOUR FAULT

"I thought what I was doing was for the best…"

DO YOU REMEMBER

"I was trying to protect her…"

DO YOU REGRET

It has begun to fully rain now. Heavy raindrops pound against the windshield and roof, running down the windows in angry rivers. They have left Becky's neighborhood, and are on a road lined by heavy brush and trees on either side. It looks like they're the only car on the road.

Tim tightens his jaw. "Jay…I know I shouldn't have lied to you. I know it was wrong. But can't you understand why I did it?"

"I can understand why you think it was okay to lie to me," Jay says furiously. "But I still think it was a shitty decision. All those years, I thought she was dead because of me…"

"Jay –"

"Where is she?" The question is sudden and harsh. Demanding an answer.

"You know I can't tell you that."

"Don't lie to me anymore, Tim," Jay grinds out. "Where is she?"

"I'm not going to tell you, Jay. It's too dangerous."

"Too dangerous for who?" Jay asks, his voice rising. "For me? Too late for that, Tim – that thing knows where I am all the time. We clearly can't escape it. For Jessica? Why? If it can find us, can't it find her too?" He pounds his hand against the door's armrest, the bang louder than it should be and making Tim flinch. "I deserve to know where she is, Tim. I'm the one who dragged her into this. Who searched for her for years. I deserve to know."

"No, Jay," Tim snaps. "You don't 'deserve' to know. Jessica deserves to live a normal life, as much as she can, anyway. She deserves to not be dragged back into this. And you would mess everything up for her if you tried to contact her."

"You don't fucking know what she or I deserve," Jay hisses through clenched teeth. "You think you know best, that you can call the shots because that thing has been following you around your whole life. Well who was the one who kidnapped her from that hotel, Tim? Who was the one who brought her into those woods where Alex almost killed her?" Jay is shouting now, each word slicing into Tim viciously.

Tim's breathing is ragged. It's getting hard to concentrate on the road. He feels white hot inside, and icy cold at the same time. He twists his hands around the steering wheel, his knuckles colorless in their vice-like grip.

"Let me out," Jay says suddenly.

"What?" Tim's rage dissipates for the slightest of seconds into shock at the random command.

"Let me out," Jay repeats. "Pull over. I don't want this anymore. I'll find Jessica on my own. I don't need your help, Tim."

"Are you insane, Jay?" Tim says furiously. "It's pouring rain out there, for one thing. And for another, where are you going to go? You have no money, no car, nothing. How do you plan on finding Jessica?"

"I'll figure it out," Jay retorts. "Now let me out!"

"No."

"I swear, if you – TIM!" Jay is staring at the road in front of them, his eyes suddenly wide with shock.

Tim snaps his head to the front and feels his eyes widen as well. Standing on the road directly before them, just barely visible in the pouring rain, is a dark figure. It's facing them, and not moving. But it's clearly a person. Tim slams on the brakes and yanks the steering wheel to the right. At the same moment, his brain is able to register a single, faint realization: the figure is wearing a mask painted to look like a skull. But then the car runs off of the road and that thought is washed away by blind panic.

The car rips down the grassy slope, the hill basically turned to mud in the rain. Tim tries to keep the steering wheel straight, but it's nearly impossible as they slide down the rough terrain. They begin to tear into the thick wall of bushes and trees and Tim's mind blanks out in raw fear. He has no idea where to turn, because all he can see is rain and mud and death. Then a large tree looms up before them. Tim doesn't see his car crash into the tree, but he feels it. It's sudden, and sharp burning pain shoots through his body. Then, everything is still darkness.

/

It has stopped pouring. It's still raining, but it's more of a light sprinkle now; measly drops splatter against the car at a steady rate, their rhythm soothing.

There's another dripping sound. It's not rain, and it's a lot closer to Tim's ears. It sounds like a single drop, repeating itself over and over. He wonders what it could be. His brow furrows as he tries to place the sound, and is immediately rewarded with a flash of pain. He moans, and slowly blinks open his eyes.

He is leaning against the steering wheel, the right side of his face pressed against the rounded plastic. The seat belt is cutting into his neck, making breathing difficult. As his eyes focus he sees that the window of the driver's door has been shattered. Not too much rain has seeped into the car though, since the thick leaves of an enormous bush shields the majority of the left side of the car.

Tim feels something slide down his right cheek and he jerks weakly, slowly pushing himself away from the steering wheel with a groan. Lying against the seat's back, Tim touches the right side of his face gingerly. Dull pain throbs there, and he pulls away his fingers to see them covered in wet blood. He looks down at his jeans and sees that he had been dripping blood onto them, which has resulted in quite a large red stain on the blue fabric. Tim touches his head again, but jerks away when his fingers brush against a rather large gash on his right temple.

He tries to move his legs, but cries out as his left leg flares in pain. Please don't be broken. He studies the leg with his hazy vision, and concludes that it doesn't look broken – but he can't be sure.

The pattering of the rain is giving him a headache. He blinks hard, trying to re-focus his vision, and turns his head slowly to gaze at the passenger seat.

It's empty. The passenger door is open, and rain has drenched both the door and the seat. There's a smear of red on the door, near the handle. Another smear of blood mars the dashboard.

Panic swells in Tim's chest. "Jay?" he calls out, his voice cracking on the word. He fumbles with his seat belt, and after a frustrating moment manages to release it. Breathing heavily, he pushes at the driver's door and is relived that it isn't jammed shut. It creaks open, and Tim all but collapses onto the wet ground outside. Clutching the side of the car for support, Tim slowly makes his way around the car to the passenger door.

Jay is no where in sight. The grass around the open door is torn up and ruined, showing signs of someone dragging something heavy across it. Then Tim's eyes catch sight of something lying on the floor of the car. It's Jay's camera. The screen is cracked, and it's not recording. Beside it is a small piece of paper. Tim picks it up to read the words scrawled there.

THIS IS YOUR RETRIBUTION

Tim staggers back, dropping the paper to the rain-soaked ground. It is then that Tim notices the blood smeared into the grass; it accompanies the trail of indentations in the ground, following as the trail swerves into the bushes to the right of the car, disappearing from Tim's sight.

"Jay…" he mumbles. Tears blind his already hazy vision as he stumbles forward, trying to follow the trail of Jay's body being dragged away. Pain shoots up from his leg, so fast and hard that he almost vomits at the violence of it. He collapses to his knees, gasping and clutching his leg. His head is pounding, and the corners of his vision are darkening.

Frantically, he fumbles in his jeans pocket for his phone. The relief is almost overwhelming when he finds it still there and – better yet – still working. He quickly brings up his contacts. Everything in his body and mind is screaming at him to not do this. But then he sees the blood smeared on the grass, and his panic for Jay and the pain throbbing all over his body wipes away any logical thought. Grimacing, he presses the "call" button for Becky.

She picks up after one ring. "Tim?"

"Becky," he says, his voice hoarse. "I'm so sorry…I don't want you to bring you into this. But…there's been an accident. Jay…he's missing. I…I don't want the police involved, but I don't know who else…I need help."

"Oh my gosh, Tim, yeah, of course," Becky says quickly. She sounds like she's running as she continues to talk. "Where are you? I'm leaving right now."

"Burtone Road, heading west. We ran right off of it…"

"I'll be there soon," Becky says.

"K…" Tim mutters. He barley manages to press the "end" button on his phone before he feels unconsciousness claiming him; his body pitches forward into oblivion.

/

/

NOTE: Don't worry, Becky is not going to become a main character or anything. Tim just needs someone to wrap up his boo-boos, and then he's gone. So if you don't like OC's, no worries. ;)