Chapter 14: God Knows

Ray knelt in the dark corner, protected only by the shade of the hedge behind her, heart racing a mile a minute as she waited for the right moment to flee with bated breath. Her lids, formerly closed shut, snapped open by the call of another's voice.

"Found you."

She was met face-to-face with the reddish gaze reminiscent of her own, painted slightly amused and victorious. A pointer fingertip reached out, poking Ray's cheek as she uttered an accompanying "tag". Pivoting on her heel, Eve turned the corner and raced down the way of the path. Realizing herself on the other end of a chase for once, Rachel ran after the younger girl with excitement, wondering if this was the same feeling Zack craved so wildly. If it was, she supposed she could understand his enthusiasm.

This is the first time I've played games like this.

August 1st, just like a week prior, Zack and Ray found themselves back at Amour Rosé. Quite like last time, Ray and Eve frolicked about the garden while Zack and Larry sat off to the side. Also like last time, Zack, already having downed whatever sugary confections had been put in front of him, was both annoyed and impressed with Lawrence's miraculously obnoxious ability to hold a one-sided conversation while he said little to nothing on the contrary.

"And that's how I overcame my crippling fear of hand-sewn sock puppets," Larry announced, Zack only just zoning back in, having missed the entire first half of the story completely. He swore, he was gonna know more about this dude than he even knew about himself before long. "Always been called a bit of a coward, you see."

"Wow. Would'a never guessed," Zack muttered, a small voice calling out from behind him on cue.

"Pst."

"Geezus fuc—!" he exclaimed in surprise, cutting himself short before his profanity came to fruition, remember how Ray asked him to watch his language. Abruptly torn from his focused attention, he turned to face the small presence of a little girl now standing at his side—but not the one who usually accompanied him. "…Heck," he corrected himself. Despite the outburst, Eve said nothing, tilting her head curiously, as if expecting something from him.

She held out her hands.

"What?" he asked, feeling uncomfortable suddenly. "What's wrong? Go on, go play with Ray," he said, but she didn't react at all. After a moment, unsure of what to do, he merely waved his hand. Curiously, Ray walked up behind the younger girl, looking at Zack, who only seemed all the more confused. "Shoo."

"I think," Ray realized, "she wants you to pick her up."

Zack nearly reeled back, dumbfounded in shock. He fumbled out a "h-huh?!" as Eve canted her head, wondering what the hold up was. Larry covered his mouth to laugh lightly. "Now now, Eve," he winked at her, "mind your manners." He peered back of Zack and Ray with a weak smile. "You'll have to excuse her, we don't have company often, so she can get excited easily." Zack said nothing towards the fact, and Ray couldn't help but notice the very uncharacteristic lack of aggression, replaced with confusion, his gaze unwaveringly stuck on the child in front of him, as if only perplexed. For a moment, Eve seemed disappointed, until Larry stroked his hand down the back of her head. "Say, why don't we open your presents soon instead?"

Towards the suggestion, Ray fell apparently downcast, looking at the ground.

Zack peered over to her with an oddly annoyed expression, exhaling a sigh. Eve, also noticing as much, was only curious about her shift in demeanor, but saying nothing regardless, she merely held out her arms to Rachel with the same look of expectation she withheld for the man before. Ray took her meaning after a moment.

"You want to play more first?" she asked, Eve nodded. Ray pondered for a moment. "I'm not as strong as Zack," thinking strategically, Rachel turned and knelt in front of her, "but I can carry you like this, okay?" Eve's expression grew brighter as she maneuvered tepidly to jump on Ray's back, who then rose to stand tall again. "Ready?" she asked, and she felt her passenger nod in anticipation. Ray took off running, excited to once be on the other side of things like this for once. They disappeared into the garden, the sound of Eve's soft laughter resounding sweetly. Zack breathed another sigh, perhaps more in relief this time.

"Is everything alright?" Larry asked suddenly.

So very much to his annoyance.

"I may be imagining things, but Ms. Rachel seemed upset," Larry cupped his hand to his chin, to which Zack crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. One thing after another with these people, geez.

"She wanted to get the kid a gift," he explained, "but I told her no." Like always, "Money's tight right now," and they didn't need to senselessly risk stealing something so frivolous. Of course, she didn't argue about it, but he could tell Ray felt disappointed, probably guilty or whatever, to show up to a birthday party without gifting anything. It was more than a little annoying honestly, because it wasn't at all a real problem, and she already knew that, so there wasn't any point in feeling bad over it.

Larry hummed. "I see," he replied simply, lacing his fingers together, covering his mouth and resting his elbows on the table. For a moment, he studied Zack pensively—a look the aforementioned was starting to realize he wasn't terribly fond of. "That's... been on my mind since we met, if I'm being honest. If I'm not mistaken, both you and Ms. Rachel were wearing those same clothes last week, yes? If you don't mind my saying, they're," his brow knit together, "awfully dirty." After a moment, Larry let out a mild exhale, as if uncomfortable to confront his next thought. "I know… what you are," said Lawrence tepidly.

Zack's expression fell dangerously serious.

He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, alerted towards Larry's notice, but not for the superficial reasons most would, of course, but the truer cause of their fading, dirty stains. Did this airhead finally figure it out? An attentive hand remained ready at his side to reach in Ray's bag at a moment's notice—as if to take his knife in hand and drive it through the other man's chest.

Then he remembered who he was talking to.

"You're homeless."

Zack blinked dimly. "…Eh?"

Larry offered a compassionate expression. "I'm right, yes?" he pressed.

"U-Uhm," Zack fumbled awkwardly. To think, he'd been but a mere two seconds from slashing the other man silent, yet he was the one cut short somehow. Supposing the fact wasn't untrue, he muttered a non-committal "yeah" beneath his breath. Let's just go with that. Larry exhaled a sigh, seeming nothing less than sympathetic now.

"I've had a hunch since last we met," he said, as if it all made sense now. Zack merely cleared his throat and avoided eye contact. "Oh, I apologize," he said simply, recognizing Zack's discomfort. The other man fashioned a weak smile. "I suppose it's rude to ask about something like that, but I didn't want to assume anything."

"It's," lucky for you honestly, "fine," Zack replied, unfazed by obvious pretenses. "We get by."

Lawrence lent him a flirtatious wink. "I imagine you certainly do. You seem like quite the capable man," he said, and Zack rolled his eyes with a groan. "Ms. Rachel seems like a smart girl, too. I'm sure you can do anything together."

Oh, buddy—you don't know the half of it.

"And," if he did, he'd probably realize how ridiculous his next offer sounded, "while you certainly don't seem like the type to accept charity," he added after a moment, his expression softening to one more sincere, "if ever you or she find yourselves in a bind, please don't hesitate to reach out. Even if it just means a bed for the night or a hot shower," he said kindly, but his company's expression merely grew sour. Anyone who knew Zack would've recognized his desire to strangle this guy for having the gall to even think about pitying him, but regardless, the forwardness of Lawrence's generosity left Zack unnerved more than anything, just like every time up until now when he'd been needlessly kind.

Either this guy had no sense of self preservation, or he was just stupid.

"You sure that's a good idea?" Foster rose an eyebrow. "Inviting a couple'a homeless chumps you hardly know to stay at your place?"

Larry pondered the sentiment. "You make a fair point, I suppose," he hummed gently, "but my Eve certainly seems to like you… and I do mean both of you," he smiled coyly at Zack, who sneered in antipathy. Larry peered off towards the aforementioned girl, the apple of his eye, and Zack huffed, gaze wandering just the same to the rotten apple of his.

No matter how sincere the fact may have been, Zack couldn't help but internally mock him for the fact. "Guessing you haven't had the whole 'stranger-danger' talk with her yet, eh?" Because, hell, maybe it wasn't just his kid who needed it.

Larry laughed jovially. "Oh, believe me," he reassured him, "don't let the precious face fool you. Eve's very capable for her age. She's a much better judge of character than most."

Psh, then maybe Ray could learn a thing or two from her.

As if.

"All I'm sayin' is," he waved a hand, "most kids take one look at someone like me and run away cryin'," (unless said kid was also a certified nut-case, but that didn't count.)

"Oh?" Larry gasped dramatically. "You don't say? I would have never guessed," he parroted him with a coltish chuckle that went sorely unappreciated by his company. "So, what I'm getting is," Larry crossed his legs, cupping his chin as he eyed Zack almost playfully, "you're wondering why my nine-year-old daughter would want a big scary man covered in dirty bandages to pick her up and play with her, yes?"

Zack rose an eyebrow, almost surprised Larry mentioned the fact so outwardly, as if it were merely normal, but before he could think about it too much, the other man leaned forward slightly, to which Zack leaned back a touch. Lawrence gazed at him in the uneven eye with one just the same, not an ounce of that supposed cowardice peeking through, but quite the contrary.

He merely put a finger to his own lips, offering another wink.

"Looks can be deceiving, my friend."

Even beneath the shade of his hood, the man was so near that he could see Zack's brow knit together as he offered only an uncomfortable expression that ultimately warped to a vicious glare, the same one typically used to ward off anyone brave enough to look him in the eye. "And what if I told you that mine aren't?" he remarked lowly. After a moment, Larry leaned back.

He smiled slyly.

"Then I suppose you'll just have to prove it, because all I've seen thus far is a very capable man who cares dearly for his smart little girl," he replied, clearly teasing but no less heartfelt. Foster tilted his head slightly, and he wanted to smack him for acting so amused, but unless he straight-up gut him, he was starting to feel like he was doomed to be disarmed by this weird-ass guy always saying such weird-ass shit. "If you're on Eve's good side, you're on mine, too, so the offer stands," he reiterated decidedly, "and, who knows?" He shrugged. "If you find that sweet tooth of yours aching again, I don't mind helping cure it either."

Zack bit back his gag reflex, thinking maybe he should develop a taste for bitter coffee after all.

Suddenly, the sound of a ringtone blared before Larry could carry on with his relentless flirtations, and the man reached in his pocket, looking at the lit display on the mobile phone in his hands. His expression warped slightly with discontent, amusement fading away. "Ah, pardon me, but I need to take this. If Eve asks, tell her I'll be back out in a minute, yes?" Zack rose an eyebrow as the other man excused himself, merely dismissing him with a shake of his head. "Hello, this is Lawrence," he answered, his now less-jovial voice trailing off as he walked back inside.

Across the yard, Rachel and Eve had gone back to hide-and-seek, Ray was "it" this time, and for as skilled as she was when it came to concealing her presence should she wish not to be found, it'd seem this was maybe another area of expertise Eve excelled in equally, if not moreso. Searching high and low, there was hardly a trace of her to be found. Her conquest led her to the far side of the cafe, where her fixed attention was torn by the sound of a frustrated man's voice coming from the open window. For once in her life, that angry voice wasn't Zack's.

It was Mr. Lawrence.

"Excuse me?" he said incredulously. "No, I will not calm down, Principal Clearwater!" The only apparent response was a small, frantic voice on the other end of a receiver of a phone, but Ray couldn't discern what was being said. "It's my daughter's birthday, and I have to tell her something so—so horrific?!" he exclaimed, and Ray rose an eyebrow, interest reasonably peaked, having never heard him less than cheerful.

With the morality of the matter never once entering her mind, she, near silently, tiptoed around the corner, pushing past the back door quietly to get a better ear in the conversation.

"Evangeline has been looking forward to this all summer! On top of everything else those children have done to her, now this? This is how she's going to start the new school year?" Rachel heard him exhale a deep, agitated sigh; peeking around the corner, she watched as Mr. Lawrence pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly irate as the person on the other end went on. "Oh, yes. Yes, I will certainly be down to campus first thing in the morning to meet with the staff—but if this is how the students are allowed to behave without consequence at your school?" he scoffed. "I'm afraid Eve and I will be seriously reconsidering her enrollment before the year begins," he offered his cordial sentiments before hanging up. "Good day."

Rays brow knit together and she cupped a finger to her chin, her already fleeting attention running wild with what she'd just listened to. Most of it made fair enough sense for someone normal like Eve: principal, students, enrollment…

But something horrific?

"I'm sorry you had to hear that, dear."

A silent gasp passed though her slightly parted lips.

Despite the fact that she was fully hidden, Mr. Lawrence called out, clearly aware of her presence. It took a moment of contemplation, but realizing there was no use trying to play it off, Rachel stepped out in front of him with her head lowered, clearly guilty. "I'm… I'm sorry," she muttered. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"It's quite alright," he told her. "I suppose it was difficult not to. I rarely raise my voice or lose my temper, but when I do," he sighed, trailing off, "there's hell to pay." Ray peeked up to him curiously as he ran his hand through the hair covering his eye.

"Mr. Lawrence," Ray said timidly, "has Eve… had problems at school?"

His brow knit together, and he exhaled deeply. After a moment, he gave a solemn nod. "She has, I'm afraid," he replied. "You see, Evangeline is a very gifted girl, but she requires individual needs in her learning—and she's been mocked relentlessly for being in special education, and taking summer classes. I withdrew her from public school the year before last because she was treated so poorly… but now it's happening again."

Ray wished she could say she was surprised, but she be lying.

"Most recently," Larry exhaled, "Eve was supposed to take home the class's pet rabbit at the start of the school year, but it turns out," he reached in his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, "it was killed by one of the other students—and to make a gruesome matter worse?" Peering through the hole in the top of the carton, he rattled them around, dissatisfied as there were only a couple sticks left. "Those cruel children sewed it back together."

With an abrupt hitch of her breath, whatever color Rachel usually had in her face drained entirely.

"Wh…what," a pause, "what did you just say?"

Suddenly realizing her dramatic shift, the mortified look in her eye, Larry caught himself with a gasp. "Oh, dear, I'm so sorry! It's an awful thing to hear, I shouldn't have—!"

"It's fine," Ray put her hand up, curt. She just wanted to know she'd heard him right: "You said," she exhaled, "another student killed a bunny, then… they sewed it back together?" Larry looked at her pensively, finding her behavior odd, naturally.

"That's right," he nodded.

In her mind, the endless replay of an automated bell resounded, the same one that used to chime every hour between classes at her old Catholic school.

"Her teachers have a theory of who may have done it, but they aren't for certain yet. I'm meeting with the staff in the morning to get to the bottom of it."

With her mouth hanging slightly agape, Ray looked at the floor, unsettled, as of processing what she'd just heard. "I... I see," she muttered. Clearly recognizing her change in mood, Larry bent at the knees in front of her, putting his hands on Ray's shoulders to look her in the eye.

"I know it's upsetting, but it'll be taken care of," he reassured her, the nuance of her fear certainly lost upon someone like him. "Don't worry now, yes?" he tried to tell her, but Ray was way, way past worried. "However, if I may," he added suddenly, "might I ask a favor of you, Ms. Rachel?" The girl peered up to him, trying her hardest to focus, though she said nothing still. Larry gave a pensive pause, the look in his lone visible eye growing sincere. "Evangeline has taken quite a shine to you," he began. "If it's not too much trouble, I think it would help her greatly if you were able to keep having fun with her. I was hoping," he said softly, "that you would be her friend."

Ray's expression lit up noticeably, be it from excitement at the prospect, or hesitation.

He wanted her to be Eve's friend?

It wasn't that she was against the idea, but she was clearly apprehensive. "I'm—I'm not sure I know how," she confessed. "I've never had a real friend." It sounded kind of sad when she said it out loud, and Larry must have thought so too with how he fashioned a weak smile in return. What made Ray even sadder?

"Neither has she."

A silent moment followed as Ray wasn't sure how to answer, her head saying one thing, her heart saying another. As her lips parted, whatever reply she wanted to give was overlapped but the sounds of the back door swinging open once more. From over her shoulder, Ray caught sight of Zack's back as he marched out, slamming it closed with a brash "thud".

Ray exhaled deeply through her nose.

"Pardon me, Mr. Lawrence," she said, and he excused her with a little amused laugh and a nod of his head. Ray pivoted on her heel, intending fully to follow Zack out the door and fuss at him for his forever unchanging lack of manners, but as she did, she was stopped by a sound resonating from down the hall and up the stairs instead.

A piano.

Left on his lonesome as Larry took his call, Zack absently munched his third piece of cake, the girls were nowhere to be seen equally.

On the table were scattered papers Eve had wanted to show Ray when she got here, fanned out from a pinkish folder with cute flower designs on it. With nothing better to do, he rose an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as he peeked down at various papers, shuffling them casually. Lots of crayon illustrations, what looked to be a few school tests given the handwritten answers they fashioned, and lastly, there was one more paper of note, catching his attention beyond the rest—what looked to be sheet music, but the fact itself wasn't what affected Zack so viscerally.

The title—the title at the top.

His gaze narrowed, an uncomfortable chill creeping up his spine the longer he looked, the longer he tried to decipher it. He couldn't read it of course, but something about it just looked familiar—like the time he'd matched up Ray's nameplate to her name on the picture of her family.

"Why do I," he muttered to himself, "why do I feel like I know that word?"

Tearing him from his own company, a small tap was felt on his left shoulder, catching him completely off guard. "Christ!" he grit his teeth, clearly jittery as he was abrupt to turn, his eyes locking to the large reddish pair of the birthday girl. "Can you cut that out!" he snapped at her. She was almost as bad as Ray! "Whadda ya want now?" If she asked him to pick her up again, he'd do it just so he could drop punt her across the garden.

On the contrary, Eve looked down at the music sheet in front of Zack, slowly pointing to it.

Embarrassment flared beneath his bandaging, as if he'd just been caught doing something wretched. "I," he swallowed hard, "I was just…" he trailed off, but to his relief, Zack needn't scamble for an excuse, then preoccupied by the feeling of Eve's much smaller palm taking his, grabbing the sheet music off the table as well. She pulled at him, and reluctantly, he rose from his seat as she toted him towards the cafe, knowing she'd probably topple over and hurt herself if he tried to jerk away. "Hey!"

He didn't understand why, but the feeling of her petite hand holding his was somehow very difficult to contest.

Instead of taking him to the central restaurant, she led him to the stairs upwards, to the lofted apartment she and Lawrence lived in. After a moment, the two of them stood before a large, grand piano, to which Eve set the sheet music down on the podium, then sat on the bench as she pulled up the hood covering the keys. She scooted over slightly, patting the seat next to her as she looked at Zack.

His brow knit together rigidly.

Was this kid being serious?

Evidently so, because there she sat unmoving, and the longer she did, he became almost unable to resist that hypnotic, puppy-eyed expression. Morbidly, he contemplated the intrusive desire to kill the girl so she wouldn't get up in arms over being denied again—but that would probably just make Ray fussy, and he knew the lesser of two evils.

With a groan, he rolled his eyes and flopped down next to her reluctantly.

Appeased, the child reached over before Zack, pressing down on a piano key, to which a low note resounding in result. In two octaves higher, she played the same recognizable note, a "G", and looked back to Zack. As Eve stared, he rose an eyebrow, confused, but she only motioned towards the keyboard with a nod of her head. Zack was almost stunned to take her meaning, lips parting to fuss at her, but he was starting to wonder if this kid was even more far gone than Ray. He merely growled in warning, but stubbornly, she played it once more. Then again, and again, and—

"Geez, alright!"

Taking the unwelcome hint, Zack slammed on the key with a loud "thunk", playing the same note in the lower octave.

Despite his lack of coordination, Eve nodded, seeming content as she moved her hand slowly, calmly playing the next beat on his side, then hers. He understood her expectation, and matching her movements, he groaned, resentfully doing the same. Attentively, he followed her example from there, five or so notes in—that is, until he quickly hit a road bump, playing a note out of tune, unpleasant on the ears.

Zack almost threw his entire fist on the keyboard to shatter it, but instead, he merely took a deep breath and backed off, if only for his own sake.

"Look, Kid," he muttered, "I know you're just havin' fun, but I ain't good at this kind of thing," actively, he avoided looking upon the page splayed before them, "I can't even read the title, much less the notes. I'll just keep fucki—" a cough, "makin' mistakes."

Eve was silent, lowering her head slightly, but it only made him all the more curious. "It's… okay," she told him gently, to which Zack rose an eyebrow, wondering if he'd taken her meaning.

Was she saying… that it's okay to make mistakes?

After a moment, peering up tepidly to the page in front of her, she pressed down on the keys with both hands this time, repeating the same notes as before, however more intricate and rhythmic. Her playing was simple, juvenile in a way, but no less practiced and thoughtful. Zack hardly realized the tension in his shoulders slowly dissipate, and he was almost drawn in by the sound, like an innocent song bird. The tune itself was unfamiliar but gentle, like the blue moon's clear reflection on an evening lake. Zack noticed the look in her eye, the same one that was usually so very reminiscent of Ray's, withholding something now that her senior could only ever hope to reflect.

A will to live, and something to live for.

Zack's heart beat in time to the beautiful melody, an odd manner of hope welling in his chest for the same source of his every honest, dishonest desire.

Was that something else this kid could teach Ray?

Almost abruptly, Eve came to a stop, the song clearly unfinished. Her fingertips lingered a moment more before lowering back of her lap politely, signaling that she was done. "That's as much as you know how to play?" he asked, she nodded. "Not half bad, Red."

"Thank you," she said cordially, "Mr. Foster."

He huffed a laugh as she addressed him. Like always, "You can just call me Zack," he told her, but she only looked at him sternly, as if displeased. Again, Zack laughed. "Don't like that?" he asked, and she shook her head, feeling that it was far too informal for an adult she'd just met. "Whatever you want, then." It was weird to be spoken to so respectfully, but he supposed himself more well-adjusted than a little girl (or at least, he knew he should have been.) They sat in silence for a moment longer, both gazes panning back to the sheet music before them. The humored grin upon Zack's expression fell to a flat line the longer he looked at notes he couldn't discern.

The use of his infamous surname didn't go past his notice.

"Say, Kid," Zack said after a heavy pause, "aren't you scared of me?" Even if she was just a confused little girl, Zack wanted to try her confidence like he did with everyone, because either Ray had been running her mouth, or, "You know what I am, don't you?"

Eve peered over to him, seeming none the wiser to his meaning. Was she trying to deflect him, was she really scared after all, or was she just too young to really understand? From the window, the afternoon sunlight caught his back, his shadow looming tall over the child who dared welcome him so near. He supposed he could at least say it in a way that even a little kid would comprehend.

"I'm the monster under your bed."

For a long moment, Eve contemplated the sentiment, tilting her head, cupping her chin, a gesture reminiscent of the same one Lawrence often did. "Monster…" she repeated slowly. Much to his surprise, contrary to his intentions, he was the one who was taken off guard as Eve rose to stand. His brow knit together incredulously as she encroached on him further, but he couldn't fend her off if he so tried, the fearless willpower of this child perhaps even outmatching that of Rachel.

Even if he was the monster under her bed…

"Not scary."

Putting her hands on either side of Zack's bandaged face, gazing at him intently, Evangeline pressed her forehead to his and closed her big, auburn eyes. A mere three more words fell from her lips to his ears, and registering what she said, his breath hitched, eyes widening.

He was made to wonder if this is what that guy had meant when he said there was more to her than met the eye.

Eve stayed near for a long moment, and then, contentedly about her business, as if nothing had happened, nothing had changed, she simply turned to go back to her practice. As she did, the child was stopped in place as Zack reached out before her. Aggressively, he swiped the papers from the podium.

Without an ounce of hesitation, he tore the sheet music in half, throwing the tattered pieces to the ground.

Eve didn't so much as flinch or even seem surprised as Zack, without another word, up and left. After a few moments of silence, left without a page to go off of, her hands returned to the keys, aimlessly playing the song as best she could from memory. Her tune fell flat a few notes in, on the perhaps exact same beat that Zack had lost his place, to which the voice of another announced itself after a few moments, as if the speaker intentionally waited for her to mess up.

"Found you."

Peering over her shoulder, Eve caught sight of Ray, who instead looked down upon the torn up papers scattered about the floor, fully realizing what had transpired despite not witnessing it first hand. She put a hand upon her chest.

Ray didn't know why she was surprised. She shouldn't have been. Kneeling, taking the tattered papers in hand, she shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said lamely. "Please, don't hold it against him." She wanted to offer a more profound apology or explanation for his erratic behavior, but there wasn't one to be found, as per usual. Eve gave a thoughtful pause on the contrary.

"Sad," she stated simply, to which Rachel was almost shocked by the notion.

Zack was sad?

Why would he tear up a little girl's music because he was sad? Even if she asked, and even if he, by some miracle, actually answered, would she ever really be able to understand? There's no way he'd tell her something like that. Rachel's azure optics narrowed in on the words at the top of the paper as she read the piece's title aloud.

"Clair de Lune."

"Christ our Teacher, we ask that You bless all those who guide us in learning, as we grow in mind, body, and spirit, and make this prayer in Your Holy Name."

It felt deficient to give the Lord her sworn word without offering any sort of physical proof that she meant when she prayed. Ray hoped He would believe her, but she supposed that if all went as planned, it wouldn't be long now.

"Amen."

Standing at the back of a congregation of students both younger and older, the words came back to Ray just as easily as they had every morning for the first thirteen years of her life. As the children were dismissed to go about the day, the sound of youthful voices were a collective chatter, some more lively and excitable, others resounding with sluggish dread, the start of the school year having different bearings case to case. In Ray's situation, she wished the biggest worry in her mind was studying hard for the first test of the semester.

Rachel had always liked school, if for no other reason than she excelled at it. Her list of shortcomings otherwise was nothing less than extensive, but she'd always been praised for her high marks in formal learning. That said, despite being at the top of her class, she was never quite what one may call a social butterfly, and even Rachel's teachers and counselors expressed their concerns for her inability to get along with the other students. She'd been outcast for her silent nature, never speaking even when the other girls made fun of her.

The signs were there, yet not a single adult seemed to genuinely know how to help her before things went irreversibly wrong.

She supposed that may've been the very reason she found herself walking these same halls after hearing what had happened with Eve. As it would happen, the very campus Ray hadonce attended was the same one Larry ended up enrolling Evangeline in after public school hadn't worked out; it made sense, being the only private academy in town for girls. It was lucky for Ray, she was able to jump right in unnoticed, for she'd known just where to find a fitting uniform and convincing school ID. She looked down at the blue and white garb she sported, a long pleated skirt and a bow tied at the chest, taking from her pocket the badge sporting a familiar name: Rebecca Carlisle—Rebecca Carlisle, who was still in the hospital. Like always, there was the chance she'd get caught, but Ray was determined to be done and gone before anyone could catch on, and it started with finding out just who it was bothering Eve.

Just who it was that sewed her rabbit back together.

That silky auburn hair and those big reddish eyes were easily set apart from the crowd, she wore the younger grade's uniform, similar to Rachel's but crimson in shade. Hugging her textbooks to her chest, she walked the hall with a lowered head, avoiding eye-contact with the other girls. Dawning a face mask over her mouth, Ray trailed at a comfortable distance, close enough to keep an eye on her, but far enough to stay out of sight and unnoticed.

As she was one to, Ray snuck around, following her junior from one classroom to the next. Her first three classes went by without trouble, but by fourth period, Eve was stopped coming out from the ladies room by a group of older girls, one of whom smacked her folders from her hands and laughed at her. Eve, fighting back tears in her eyes, ran down the hall as the foremost girl called out to her.

"Hope you had a rotten summer, retard!"

Rachel's cold blood ran red hot.

"Nothing was proven, but it was heavily suspected by Eve's tutor that a particular student was the one behind the rabbit's death, a girl by the name of Whitney Writer. She'd been the one harassing Eve relentlessly last year, and she was on campus earlier that day for her grade's pre-year orientation. Their useless principal did nothing, of course, saying they needed to hear "both sides of the story" before anything could be decided. I wanted to withdraw her enrollment right then and there, but Eve begged me to let her stay. I couldn't bear the thought of telling her no."

Ray recounted Larry's grievous sentiments as she watched the girls gather into the bathroom like a pack of wolves. The hall cleared out as her fleeting step plodded on the ceramic tiles, Ray pushed the large swinging door open a narrow crack, the voices of the occupying girls echoing to the high ceiling. She listened in.

"I can't believe they're threatening to expel you over a stupid rabbit!"

"Just blame it on the little weirdo and say she was trying to make you look bad."

"Ugh, if you honestly get in trouble, she's gonna be sorry."

"Oh, don't worry," the supposed Whitney giggled. "Clearwater's not gonna let me be expelled… but she's so gonna be sorry."

Ray heard the sound of the creaky bathroom sink stop running, the last droplets of water resounding louder than any of the voices, silencing all else in Ray's mind. With reckless abandon, her body acted on her own, pushing past the door of the bathroom. The girls hushed themselves conveniently as Ray went to a free sink, turning the knob beside the unsuspecting occupants otherwise.

She reached in her bag, palm taking grasp of her handgun on instinct.

"Hey… do I know you?"

Suddenly, Ray stopped, thinking that question would've had a very clear answer should it have been yes, even with her face half-concealed—but it'd seem that wasn't the case, as Ray found herself looking in the mirror, finally gazing upon the other girl. She was a head taller than Ray, had reddish hair, freckles and pretty green eyes—the stark opposite from her. Ray's blue irises reflected dully beneath the fluorescent lighting panels. "I don't think so," said Gardner, almost hoping she'd be corrected for simplicity's sake. No such luck.

"Hm," she ushered a shrug. "Guess not. You new here?" she asked, Ray nodded agreeably. "What's your name?"

A pause. "Rebecca," she looked down at the porcelain sink.

"I'm Whitney. This is Chrissy and Renee," she motioned to the two girls beside her. "We don't get many new students, where are you from?"

"[REDACTED]," she said, the first place that came to her mind.

"Like, the city?" her eyes lit with interest. "That's so cool! Living in a town like this is so boring." She eyed Rachel like a new plaything, who hardly reacted. "Say," she leaned in, trying to get a better look at the younger girl's face, who merely turned slightly, as if she were shy (not merely cautious,) "your hair's like, super long. It's way pretty!" Ray resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow, peering at her out of the corner of her eye. The last time someone at school had mentioned her hair was when the girl behind her cut it as a prank in third grade.

"You think so?"

"Yeah," the elder flashed a cute smile, "and your skin's, like, totally flawless!" (Remembering her healed BB wound, she wouldn't've been able to say so much as a few weeks ago, or almost any given day of her life.) "Hey, if you want, you can sit with us at lunch today. You probably don't, like, have any friends here, right?" she asked, and given her grip tightening on the handle of her gun still concealed by her messenger bag, Ray desired sorely to correct her, but she couldn't in good faith, no matter how much she may have wanted.

Not yet, at least.

There was no concrete evidence one way or another. It certainly sounded like she'd been the one to do it, but given the clear fact that she didn't recognize Rachel, maybe she didn't kill the bunny, maybe she didn't sew it back together, yet Rachel couldn't shake the feeling that things weren't so simple. Remembering the way she'd mocked and tormented Eve in the hall, her heart beat intently, focused to find proof should if so exist.

"Sounds like fun."

Leaning back in the revolving chair behind the large mahogany desk, Zack spun lazily in circles as Ray rummaged about the deeper contents of the principals private room. "Are you done yet?" he bemoaned.

Rolling open the nearest file cabinet, Ray replied, "You can still wait outside, you know."

"And miss the chance to slit some fifth-grade gym teacher's throat when they try to throw you in detention for skippin' class?" Zack huffed. "That's no fun."

"Then be patient," she said, pulling out the file for one Whitney Writer. Ray walked back behind the desk in the center of the room, but before she could set the folder down and read through it, Zack swiftly grabbed her by the waist in one fell swoop, pulling her to sit in his lap as he spun in the revolving chair still, his arms wrapped around her. Ray seemed unfazed, even if it was a little hard to read like this, but it could've been worse (she supposed it was a small price to pay to keep him occupied.)

It was the end of the day, approaching 4 P.M. by the time they were able to sneak into the principal's office, Ray deducing as much was necessary after having lunch with the other students as decided. For whatever her truer motives may have been, it felt kind of strange to spend time with girls her age—"normal" girls who went about life without thinking about half the things Ray couldn't imagine life without, namely killing and being killed, yet there they were, eager to welcome someone like her into their friend group no matter how unorthodox she'd always been told she was, simply because she was a new student to sink their teeth into.

Is this what it was like to be popular?

Regardless, despite her keen social ineptitude, Ray quickly picked up on the kind of person WW was in earnest. While she may have attended a Catholic school, to say she acted in the Lord's righteous name would be untrue, but Ray felt that was the case for a lot of people who claimed to be religious. She smoked, drank, slept around, and most of all, bragged about it. In the manner of a half hour, she'd given Ray a full run-down of all her claimed vice successes.

Not the least of which was, most recently, sleeping with the principal.

"Can't I just gut this guy and be done with it?" Zack whined, sounding rather like a bored child. Ray stopped reading mid-sentence, brow knitting together.

"Why would you do that?"

He huffed a laugh. "What, did you already forget the reason we're here?" Great, was memory loss on the schedule again for Ray's next big mental breakdown? "Do the words 'dead bunny' mean anything to you?" he asked, and Ray peered up from the Manila folder in her hands, looking to him over her shoulder.

"The girl harassing Eve is the one I want you to kill," she clarified.

Gradually, his spinning came to a slow.

"She's the one who did it," Gardner added simply, "so it's only fair," she said, like it were all so simple. Yeah, maybe the principal allowed it, but it's not like it was his hand that ended the rabbit's life. Around her, Zack's arms went slack slightly, and she felt his hold relent a touch. He gave a pause, seeming reluctant. He only spoke as the revolving chair was finally still, facing the desk.

"You're kidding, right?"

Ray was almost caught off guard, not sure she understood his meaning. "You think she doesn't deserve to die?" Ray posed him as she stood slowly, turning to look at Zack. Towards the very notion, his expression had grown noticeably bitter.

"No," he rose to his feet equally, towering over her. "I'm saying that's what you think, Ray."

A displeased expression appeared upon her visage. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked defensively, and while he wanted nothing more than to etch that look off her face with the ink quill sitting on the desk, he reminded himself of all the times before when he'd sat by as she indulged her desires whichever way the wind blew. He knew he'd have to spell it out for her, say it aloud, even if she already understood what he meant.

In no uncertain terms, like the last string of kills: "It means you're doing something you're gonna regret."

An expression of clear offense reflected upon her emotionless features. He could tell his words struck a chord, and while he wasn't out to piss her off, he wasn't about to let all this shit happen again, even if it meant she was going to throw a fit. Clearly on the defensive now, Ray turned it back on him stubbornly. "Are you saying you don't want to do it?" she asked, though it sounded more accusatory than anything. It only served to make Zack irritated.

"No, I don't give a shit," he bit out indignantly, "I just know I'm the one who's gonna have'ta fuckin' do the damage control when you fall to pieces like always.".

"And why would I do that?" Ray dare ask, to which Zack grit his sharp teeth.

Yeah, alright, it was a wild day when even he was skeptical about something like this, but then he remembered that maybe—maybe she was just crazy, and this was the exact reason she'd been locked up in a mental hospital, reasonably not allowed to go out among the public.

"'Cause you don't wanna off this girl because you think she's a murderer," Zack said bluntly, "you just don't want her to shove your little friend in a locker and steal her lunch money."

Ray glowered emptily. "That's not fair."

Clearly, he was just saying that because he didn't like Eve.

Zack offered a humorless laugh with a roll of his eye. "No offense, Ray," he hissed, "I don't think you should be talkin' about what is and isn't fair when you ask me to kill anyone and everyone at the drop of a fuckin' hat."

"You think you have no part in this?" she snapped back, and she could almost see Zack's frustration rising.

His lips parted to bark out a reply, when suddenly, he was cut short as a rattling was heard at the door, following the sound of conversing voices. They were torn from their tension as the turning lock echoed, and in a flash, Zack grabbed her by the arm, dragging her to the nearby supply closet, pulling the door closed behind him.

Clumsily, he fell to the floor, taking her down with him to sit in his lap again.

Facing him this time, positioned less innocently than before, her long skirt bunched up slightly, exposing her leg up to the thigh. Realizing as much instantly, Zack actively avoided looking at her, if nothing else, for his own good, instead peeking through the metal shutters, trying to see out of them—otherwise aware to the moment as he reasonably should've been.

"You won't let that happen, right?" the girl outside asked. "If I was expelled, that means I couldn't see you anymore."

"No, Whitney," said the principal, "that's not it, but you—"

"Plus," she interjected, "my parents would be so upset, they'd definitely ask me all kinds of questions about what's going on at school, about me," her voice was overlapped by the man's gasping voice, "about you. You don't want that… do you?" He gave no verbal response, the only sound being a weak moan amongst the shuffling of feet and fabric; through the blinds of the supply closet, the shadows of the smaller figure encroached on the larger, eclipsing Ray's expression with darkness.

Ray, who merely seemed annoyed yet that Zack was so quick to move on.

"You didn't—"

"Quiet!" he hushed her. Despite her own whisper, Zack's hand snapped to clamp over Ray's mouth, silencing her. Rachel's gaze narrowed sharply on him. "They'll hear y—!"

Without a second thought, Ray bit down on his palm.

He inhaled tensely through grit teeth, glaring at her as he resisted the urge to shout, be it in pain or anger. He tore his arm away, though their closeness was no less existent as she remained in his lap. Even if he didn't care about their cover, even if he wanted to lash out at her, he wouldn't have been able.

Let's see how you like it.

Like a flash of lightning, Ray withdrew her hand from her messenger back, shoving the barrel of her handgun in his mouth, silencing him just the same.

Nothing less than stunned, he lost his breath, a small gagging noise choked out from his throat. With only the narrow lines of light illuminating her visage in segments, Zack stared wide-eyed upon Ray's forever unchanging expression. "Didn't you call me naïve once for letting a man put his fingers in my mouth?" she leaned into him closer, whispering in his ear, pressing her chest to his. "A gun seems a little more dangerous," cocking the trigger, she tilted her head, eyes heavy-lidded, "don't you think?"

Alright.

So.

Part of him hoped she'd just pull the trigger and get it over with, because he felt like he was about to die even if she didn't. He knew damn well that nothing about a crazy little girl sitting in his lap, holding a gun down his throat should get him going, but Christ alive.

It was hotter than sin.

After a moment, he bit down on the gun in frustration, the sharp grit of his teeth apparent in the dim light, a little trail of saliva appearing at the corner of his mouth. His hands instinctively found purchase on her form, one upon her thin waist, the other gripping her exposed thigh with tense fingertips, knuckles turning white beneath the bandages. He almost had to wonder if she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

Knowing her, probably.

Finally, Ray peeked out to see the man pressed close to a young girl as she was backed up against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist. His trousers hung slack from his hips as he maneuvered against her, skin-to-skin. Their voices resounded as clear, heavy moans, the cut off view of their figures being the touch of their lips. He groaned pathetically, seemingly useless to resist her, and he wasn't the only one, for all the while, Rachel remained unmoving with Zack at her mercy. Clearly somehow even more uncomfortable with this particular turn of events—had he not already learned his lesson about putting his hands over her face, he'd have certainly covered her eyes, but even as Ray knew exactly what was going on, she seemed unfazed, inconvenienced at best. Zack was helpless to sit there listening, waiting with her gun down his throat for those passing, agonizing few minutes.

For whatever his base desires were begging him to do in that moment, he decided to focus solely on how furious she was clearly trying to make him, anger being the one and only emotion he could always count on to help him stay centered.

Unfortunately, this time, even that didn't help.

Honestly, it was probably the opposite.

It was over pretty quick (but if Ray had to guess, to a heathenous girl like this, what was premarital sex, if not a transaction?) They were over and done with it as the final bell of the day resounded, practically on cue, indicating this may not have been the first time for an exchange like this. Having done what they'd come to his office to do, the two reestablished themselves, the girl seeming all too satisfied by the tone her voice, as on the contrary, Clearwater said little else towards the matter, ("yes dear", "whatever you want", "I'll take care of it",) clearly bested and convinced to do as she said. The sound of the door closing behind them was heard after another minute or so.

The coast was clear, at least in one sense.

So much to Zack's disappointment, finally, Rachel slowly removed the gun from his mouth, and he suppressed the urge to pant loudly, trying to steady himself. Reluctantly, his fingertips grew lax upon her as Ray rose to her feet, pushing the closet door open.

As she turned from him, Zack grabbed her roughly by the shoulder.

Forcefully, he shoved her back against the wall, his arms extended, palms pressed to the panels, trapping her on either side. As he loomed over her, Zack glared viciously at the girl he enclosed, who only peered up at him innocuously, as if nothing at all had happened. "You didn't answer my question," she had the gall to say. "You really think you have the right to tell me what to do when you're just as guilty?"

And that when he'd decided he'd had enough.

"Yeah, Ray, because I know what I've done," he replied acrimoniously. "I kill people without a care in the world, and I still don't have one, because unlike you, I know exactly what I am," and also unlike her, he had accepted it a long time ago. Zack leaned down to look her in the eye with a narrowed, stern gaze. "I'm a cold-blooded killer."

Rachel stared sharply at him now, as if to say "go on, I dare you", and sure enough, he heard her loud and clear.

"Just like you."

Her pulse skipped a beat, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Despite seeming so very stoic moments before, she held her breath and lowered her head, the only semblance of a reply being a non-committal "you're wrong" whispered beneath her breath, but Zack was anything but convinced.

"You can pray to God all you want," he went on, "act like you've had some miraculous change of heart, but you're not foolin' anyone here."

"Stop talking," she snapped back instantaneously now, her warning clear.

"What, ya gonna kill me if I don't?" he laughed, and Ray shook her head in protest. "You've never asked me to murder anyone because you honestly gave a damn," he fully realized, "you do it because you want to see 'em suffer!"

As if his words caused her physical pain, Ray tensed up, clamping her hands over her ears. "Stop it," she demanded, voice growing shakier, but given that she couldn't so much as look at him now, he felt no keen urgency to do what she said. She couldn't even commit to something as simple as threatening him.

"Just admit it already, Ray," he shoved her by the shoulder, "you kill people—!"

"Shut up!"

"Because you like killing people!"

Suddenly, Ray's hand rose with a mind of its own, her palm landing flat and hard against the side of Zack's jaw.

The typical irate expression he fashioned was replaced with one of pure shock, and while it didn't hurt, he flinched slightly from the surprise of being struck by her so viscerally. He relented his broach of her space as he took a step away. His own hand rose, fingertips placed upon the point of impact, brow knitting together as he was stunned speechless.

His mismatched gaze narrowed on her harshly with a frigid malice.

If that's how she wanted to be, he was done trying to talk sense into her. This time, she was going to learn her lesson—because he'd certainly learned his. He tore her messenger bag away as it hung from her shoulder, alongside her gun and his knife inside. He turned towards the nearby window, reeling it open.

"If you really wanna kill this kid, leave me out of it," he muttered with clear animosity. "I'm not gonna swoop in and save your ass this time." As he swung his legs over the side of the window sill, Ray's only acknowledgement was choked out as a wavering, unconvincing declaration for the only thing she knew should matter.

"God knows," Ray whimpered, as if she was trying to convince herself more-so than him, "God knows my true intentions."

Zack gave a long, foreboding pause as he put his hand to the window's edge. Finally, he gazed back to Rachel once more from over his shoulder. Adding insult to injury, he let out a "tch" through his teeth before taking his leave.

"Then I'll see you in hell."