Sunday was cold and dreary. Kate's blinds were barely open, the light only just able to reach through into the darkness of her dorm room. An arm reaches drearily for the tissue box under the lamp. No notice is given to the digital alarm clock beside the box of tissues, its face reporting nine minutes after eleven o'clock.

Sniffles. A blowing of the nose. The tissue is discarded into the garbage bin, already full to the brim. She's not had the spirit to tidy her room, and it shows: dust lays upon her desk, and her clothes litter the floor, her clothesbasket remains empty by ironic circumstance.

Kate sighs. Restlessness plagues her, but she cannot bring herself to rise from her bed. Max and the others had given her time to recover by herself, but that was over a day ago. Now, she finds herself slipping into a lethargic routine, one which places severe emphasis on never stepping foot outside for fear of the unknown. It'd have to take something drastic to get her out of bed—

Her cellphone buzzes. It takes a few seconds for her to react, but eventually she takes hold of it and answers.

"Hello…?"

"Katie-dear," her father's voice warmly greets her from the other end, "How are you doing?"

"Dad," she rose up instantly from her slump, "I'm—I'm doing fine."

Her greeting was forced. She flinched at the hoarse tone she delivered it in, and the image of her father's face creased with worry was at the forefront of her mind. He spoke, "Well, that's all good to hear. We've…your Mom and I have been talking with the police, and they'll be wanting you to give your testimony. Now—we've got time to drive you down to the police station—"

"That—that won't be necessary," Kate interrupted, "I'll uhm—I'll walk."

She could hear him sigh, can imagine him pinching his brow, "Katie, please. Your mother and I would like to talk to you. We haven't heard from you at all since…since it happened, and we don't want you to think we're just ignoring it, nor you for that matter. This is serious."

He's right. It was a serious conundrum. Yet, she felt no better talking about it than when she was experiencing it. The idea of seeing her parents was enough to send her into panic—not that she feared words of scorning, but the looks, those dreadful, pitiful looks on the faces of her parents, conjured up from imagination. She could not bear the pity, not from them, anyone else but them! Let it be that God strikes her down before she is looked upon as weak and insecure by her own flesh and blood!

And worse yet, she feared the idea of returning home to her younger sisters, who have most likely heard the news. She already knew her parents were planning to bring her back home, and why shouldn't they? As far as they were concerned, their daughter was surrounded by people more than willing to lay their hands upon her, it would make no sense to give those people the chance. Oh, but the scrutiny of her sisters—as if seeing the pity in her parents' eyes was enough—no, she couldn't even imagine it. The shame of returning with her figurative tail 'tween her legs was equivalent to a death sentence, and she could not let this shame be realized by her sisters, not ever if she wished to look them in the eyes again. It could not be now, not when the sting of emotions was so unbearable.

"I know," is all she can say. It's hard to speak when one is fighting the urge to break down.

There was a pause. It was painful for Kate because she couldn't ignore the strain on her breathing, or the way her fingernails dug into the flesh of her fingers from gripping the phone so tightly.

"…your mom is still asleep right now," her father noted, much to her confusion, "She had it rough last night, couldn't stop having bad dreams. Got so bad that it woke me up as well."

"…ah, Dad—?"

"Bear with me, Katie, please," he asked, and resumed, "She was imagining an experience she had with an old friend of hers growing up, who had been taken advantage of at a party they went to during their time in a university. That girl lost everything—her friends, her family, all of it—because she refused to talk about what happened to her. She closed herself off to your mother every time the topic was brought up. Not even the girl's family could get through to her…it was as if she had simply ceased to exist."

Kate was silent.

"Your mother was close to that girl's family, and was among the first to hear about their suicide attempt. It was not easy for your mother to accept what happened to her friend, and I know that she would not like me telling you this, but it makes what I'm trying to say all-the-more clear. I don't want you to end up like that girl, thinking that she had to keep to herself to avoid the trouble."

Her room is cold, and in disarray. Kate notices her overflowing garbage bin, and the lack of natural light. She hasn't texted any of her friends since they left, and any texts they sent her were still unanswered.

"After finding out what happened to you, your mother's been worried sick. She's been adamant to have you return home as soon as possible, and I myself don't see why we should leave you alone up there. Katie…I don't know what's going through your head right now, but believe me when I say that we are worried about you, and we want you safe and sound."

Tears swell, and drip from silver eyes. A hand absently brushes at them, but she's already resigned to her fate.

"We'll be coming by Blackwell in a couple hours. You don't have to pack your things yet, so don't worry about that. Your Mom and I will be having a conversation with the principal about you returning home, and I'm sure he'll be understanding of it. You don't have to come with us for that, but we'd appreciate it if you did."

Kate hummed, not trusting her voice to speak words. She wasn't sure if the noise was picked up by her phone. If Dad noticed, he said nothing about it.

"We love you, and we're so proud of you. Don't forget that," he said at last, "I can't wait to see you again, and so do your sisters—"

"Ah—Dad?"

"Hm, yes dear?"

"D-do they know?" Kate stuttered, "About…?"

A pause. Kate could feel the dread creeping over her. Flesh turned to goosebumps.

"No," he said, gently yet with conviction, "Not the details, at least. We figured if anyone should tell them, then it ought to be you."

"…thank you," she muttered, "I'll see you soon."

"See you soon," he replied, "I love you, Katie."

"Love you too, Dad."

She disconnected first. That small observation caused her to shiver in self-hatred, and she set her phone down. She laid her head back against the pillow, and brought her hands to shield her face.

The silence of the room was interspersed with muffled sobs.

Our Father, thou art in Heaven. Hallowed be thy Name.

Thy Kingdom come, thy Will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.

Might you show others the forgiveness thou hast bestowed, that it would hold true against the vice and greed of fallible men. Might you let us know forgiveness, and bestow it unto those who have shown reason to be forgiven. Might we suffer not the monster, the traitor, nor the mouther of blasphemous oaths. Lead us away from our temptations, and deliver us from evil. In your love and glory, forever and ever and unto the ages of ages, Dear Lord. Amen.

The temptation to simply walk out of the reception of the small, frankly desolate police station was impossible to ignore. Waiting had been longer than expected, since most of the two-handfuls of police officers were out on patrol duty and the rest languished in their office chairs pushing paperwork. Even now, the Marsh family had to take a moment whilst the officers tended to an irate businessman that arrived five minutes after them.

Her father recognized this stranger: he was the liaison of a Portland-based real estate company and a well-acquainted partner of the Prescotts. The man frequented the town hall, where town officials gave businessmen like him smiles and warm handshakes, but turned their shoulders coldly to their own constituents. That alone was enough to explain why they sat for another thirty minutes to wait their turn.

Kate thought of the conversation her parents had with Principal Wells. The principal was understanding, it was true, but he made quite the venture to assure the Marsh elders that their daughter could continue her education from the absolute safety of the dorms. Kate had half the mind to tell them how Nathan could easily pressure for access to the dorms by demanding the janitor's master key, a fact which would not sit well with anyone involved. But, she did not say this, for fear that Wells would take it as a personal affront to his authority.

It was not that Kate feared the man sat in his plush leather chair. No—she feared that her words would come as a perfect excuse for Wells to justify expelling her, which would be a detriment to her parents' efforts to put her through high school, and college if she wished. To allow Wells that opportunity to waste all the money and time her parents had given her was what kept her quiet, and she was thankful that the principal eventually yielded to her parent's concerns after seeing his platitudes would not work on them.

Kate was due to pack her things and be ready to move out by the end of the week, but before that, the Marsh family had to make a formal complaint to the police. Her mother was most specifically adamant for some justice, and gave the lady behind the reception's desk a polite mouthful about the lack of interest the police department showed when the Marshes had first called. Her father was silent as the grave, but a stern look was adorned on his features, and with it came a low tone that he used only when his temperance could not contain the anger.

The businessman passed by them as he left, his scowl evident of some unexpected misgiving. Kate idly wondered what men like him had to do with this world, they who toil for both the prosperity and oppression of peoples. She thinks not of political ideals, nor petty ambitions; she thinks of what purpose that might befall such men, who cling to their material possessions and shun the idea of spiritual honor, and how these men might fare against God's judgment. It was a nice distraction to her own predicament, if nothing else.

"Uhm, Ms. Marsh?" an officer called, "Are you ready to give your statement?"

The uniform was holding onto dear life around the rotund figure of this officer, most especially the unmistakable pot belly propped up by the belt around the waist. A five-o'clock shadow denoted a lack of interest to remain clean-shaven, and a small stain near the breast pocket gave credence to a foul-up with the morning cup of coffee.

"Ah, yes, sir."

"Come on, then," but he held up a hand as her parents began to rise from their seats, "Pardon me, but only the witness may enter. Orders of the Sargeant."

"Excuse me?" Kate's mother snipped, "We're her parents, can't we at least—?"

"Ma'am, we cannot do that," the officer spoke over her, "Now, look, if you're going to make this difficult, then we can arrange a spot for you to stay here overnight. Now, I'm sure you don't want it to be that way, do you?"

Kate looked back to her elders, stricken with worry. She knew her mother was prideful to those who she felt wronged by, and already the matriarch visibly soured at the veiled threat leveled her way. Kate's father was quick to disarm the potential scuffle, and took his wife's hand in his to calm her down. There was no answer for them to give.

The cop, satisfied of this, beckoned to Kate with a wag of the finger, "C'mon now, let's get this over with."

All Kate could think as she reluctantly followed, was how she could not stop her heart from beating so anxiously in her ears.

Her parents dropped her off back at Blackwell, just in time to be swept up in a group-meetup in the front quad. Under the shade of a mighty birch, Kate joined her friends to partake in a late lunch. Warren and Max were busy with schoolwork, and would not join them until a few minutes later. A troublesome plight for Kate, who would have to explain her excursion twice over.

"…so, what'd they say?"

"That they would look into it," Kate deadpanned, using a hand of hers to air-quote the parting words given to her by the Arcadian Police Department, "and that'd they would make sure that whoever it was would be brought to justice."

"What, exactly like that, or…?"

"Exactly that," Kate recited, reflecting the apathetic tone by which these words were delivered.

Juliet and Dana glanced at each other, and shared a silent, worrisome agreement. Yet, they still tried to turn Kate's hopes up, "Well, at least there's an investigation coming along. Most people don't even get that far."

It was true. Most crimes that happen within town are often unresolved by the police. This is not a crisis for the townsfolk, however, since most of these crimes are often between people who know each other, and often get resolved in a manner outside of police intervention. Violent crimes, however, were different matters altogether. Most were still ongoing investigations, meant to be solved once appropriate funding could be secured from the regional authorities and state bureaucrats. In essence, the police dictated which crimes were solved, and which ones were left to be used as economic tools of manipulation. Justice, if it ever came, was slow and full of delays.

Kate had no expectations. She had expected some form of decency when it came to crime and mending the wrongdoing done unto innocent people, but after her interview with the police, she tossed that expectation right away. Her chances of receiving an answer were slim, and everybody knew it.

"Almost makes you wish there was some vigilantism around here," Juliet mumbled, idly poking at the last of her lunch with a plastic fork. Beside her, Dana chuckled derisively, "Why, are you planning something?"

"No, not me," Watson waved the notion off, "I'm just saying, like, if people got together and worked towards finding justice instead of waiting for the police to do it, there'd be some real changes around here, not the kind the mayor and his cronies all say is going to happen."

"I'm not so sure about that, Jules," Dana spoke between bites, "If people started fending for themselves, then there'd be no rule of thumb, since everyone would judge crimes differently. Soon there'd be no clear consensus on how to solve crimes, and then what?"

"There'd be something there, just not what most people think," the reporter explained, "It's like what they show in those mob-boss style movies: there's a code of do's and do not's, and so long as you stick to the code, then you'll stay out of trouble. But the second you do something you shouldn't, like lie, or cheat, or steal—that's when there's hell to pay."

Kate silently listened. She wasn't interested in the technicalities of living in a place where there was no rule-of-law, nor was she keen to find out how she'd experience such a scenario. Marsh was more worried about the uncertainty of her future, and what it would mean for her and her family. Her parents did not give any indication of having any feelings against her, they did not shun her when they had the chance. She doesn't feel any more reassured despite this.

"Hey guys," a mousy voice called to them. They all turned to smile at Max as she sat down with them, "Warren can't make it, he's too caught up with studying."

"Did you at least ask him twice?" Juliet snickered, but Max already knew what she was asking, "Yes, I did. He was all like, Yeah, I'll join you once we're both done working, and yet when I finished my work and started packing, he changed his mind about it. I feel like he enjoys stressing over the work the teachers give, I swear it."

"Too right," Dana concurred, "The first time I talked to him before we became friends, he was poring over a history book about Ancient Rome, or something like that. I like Warren, I really do, but sometimes, he's just so—"

"Sneaky."

"—nerdy," but Dana turned her head at Juliet's insertion, "Wait, what?"

"I sit in front of him in math class, and there's been a couple times that I've caught him staring at me when I've had my back turned to him," Watson asserted, "he may be nice and all, but I shudder to imagine what goes on in the secluded darkness of his room. Just think of what kinda things he could get up to, what kind of sinister and downright despicable fantasies he could be thinking about!"

Eyebrows were raised. It is now that Juliet realizes she's got a fist clenched with determination, as if she were Sherlock Holmes having connected the dots leading to the mysterious culprit.

"…I have a feeling," Max slyly noted, "that maybe, just maybe, he spaces out a lot, and that you might've misinterpreted that as him checking you out."

"Ah—well," but the reporter doubles down with a huff, "Look, I know something's up with him. He's good with computers, I'll give him that, but until I figure out that secret of his, I'll always have that subtle feeling in the back of my head. I'm telling you, Max, he's got to be thinking of some dubious things if he just does that all day—"

"Jules, I'm not gonna lie, it sounds like you're obsessed with him," Dana chuckled suggestively, and quickly the accused defended herself, "Hey whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa! I said nothing about that! Don't you even start joking about that, D', I mean it!"

"What do we think, girls?" Dana asked of the others, "Is Jules obsessed with Warren, or is she onto something?"

Kate gave no reaction, but Max found amusement in such a cheeky opportunity, "Obsessed, without a doubt."

"You guys are ridiculous," Watson grumbled, "I've seen it myself, I know he isn't much better than any of the other boys around here! He's just biding his time, trying to gain our trust, then he'll strike you in the heart when you least expect it—!"

"Hey, Jules, how'd you do with asking that one guy out—what was his name again?" Dana wondered aloud.

"It's Zachary," Juliet defended a bit too hastily, "And he's an exception, okay? If any of you saw him, you'd know what I mean—"

"Why, have you been checking him out?" Dana cooed sarcastically, trying to make it obvious that it was a loaded question that didn't need to be answered; but woe unto them, for Juliet was already floating in dreamland, "You don't get it, D'. Those bright eyes, that cute smile, and his broad shoulders, it's just what I'm looking for~"

Max turned to Kate with an exasperated look, and even despite the torment of her doubts, the blonde couldn't help but burst out laughing. It seemed to snap Juliet from her dreamy landscape, and she looked on to her chuckling friends with confusion, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing Jules, it's nothing," Dana sighed, trying her best to not laugh as well, "Hey, we should get going if we want to get started on that project the history teacher gave us."

"Hahah—what project?" Max inquired.

"Weren't you in history class on Thursday?"

"Uhhh…" Max recalled the dread she felt when she woke up that day, realizing she slept through her alarm and missed the first class period entirely, "…no."

"It's a group project, so you'll want to pair up with someone if you can," Dana supplied, "The project's about finding a significant event in a set time frame that's given to you by the teacher. It's not that hard, it's just time-consuming since the teacher's looking for as many details as possible. Jules and I were going to the library down in the center of town, if you're interested."

"Wait, can I join your group?" there was a hint of desperation in Max's voice, "Surely the teacher would cut me some slack since I wasn't there when the groups were picked, right?"

"I think you'll be just fine without us dragging you down," now it was Juliet's turn to be cheeky, "After all, you showed all of us up that one time—"

"Alright, then," Dana pointedly interrupted, "Jules, you ready to go?" Already the tall auburnette had her things in order and was waiting for her friend to do the same.

"Oh, yeah," Watson stood up, and bid Max and Kate farewell, "We'll talk later, see you guys!"

"Farewell—See you later, alligator."

The two left, and now it was just Max and Kate to observe the ambience of the front quad. The sun was glowing a deep shade of orange from behind the shade of clouds. Gusts of wind swept the dried leaves across the concrete paths.

"…hey."

"Hm?" Kate looked over to her friend.

"How'd it go?"

Oh. Right.

Kate ducked her gaze down to the grass, "It went…okay."

Max said nothing in reply. It seemed that she was pondering at some thought, but Kate did not know what it could be. She didn't have much in her to care, and this fact weighed heavy on her consciousness. Her father's worries over her becoming a shut-in were starting to have some validity.

"Do you got some time? I'd like to show you something," Max pulled herself up, and reached a hand out to her. Kate figured if she was going to pull through these tumultuous feelings, then doing it with a friend was her best bet. And with this in mind, she clasped the brunette's hand, and was hoisted up.

"…it's lovely."

"See, now you're just saying that," Max chuckled, her hand rubbing the back of her neck bashfully.

"No, I'm serious," Kate gestured to the journal in her hands, "It's lovely. You're really good at drawing, Max."

"Thanks," Max smiled, though her embarrassment was still evident, "I don't draw often, since I usually have my camera to get the shots I want. Sometimes, I'll just doodle in class whenever the teacher's not looking."

"I like this one," Kate pointed out a cat with a pair of large spectacles, "Look at it! It's so cute!"

"See, I was trying to make it all sophisticated," Caulfield gave her some exposition, "but then it turned out that way and I wasn't sure if I could make it any better, so I left it as is."

Kate gushed ever more, and Max received heartfelt praise in a humble fashion. The soft lighting of the brunette's dorm room gave off a cozy atmosphere, and this helped to ease the tension both girls were feeling. Kate welcomed the distraction, and Max was glad to see her friend be happy and not stuck in her doubts.

"Don't you draw, Kate? I remember you mentioned that you'll draw in your spare time," Max noted.

Kate immediately thinks of the small notebook in her bag, which contains all her sketches. Sketches which were her remedy to cope with spending long periods of time in her room; these sketches that spoke well of the afflictions in her heart, the whisperings of the Devil that scratched her ears and made her shiver from time to time.

"Ah…yeah, I suppose. I'm not a professional, nor as good as you are," but now Kate wonders, "…why are you showing me this, Max?"

"You see, whenever I'm drawing, it's usually because I'm under the weather," the brunette answered, "Whether it's because I'm sad, or I'm upset and can't focus, or if it's a lack of motivation, I just force myself to draw something to take my mind off whatever's bothering me. I figured that maybe it's the same for you, right?"

Kate's gotten quite experienced in drawing the human skull, with its empty eye sockets and impartial grin; the universal symbol of death. Memento mori, as those professional art critics would say.

"…yes, it is."

"At least we have that in common," Max jested, but she became rather serious thereafter, "Now…I don't want to sound like I'm making a big deal out of this, but I don't let people see my journal like this. No one's seen what's inside, not Warren, not Dana and Juliet, and not anybody else—"

"—especially my parents," Max dramatically emphasized, earning a chuckle from the blonde, "Not even Chloe has seen this. You are the first person I've given this honor to, Kate."

Marsh looked to her best friend, to see if there was any hint of exaggeration in her words. But Max was serious, and that shine in her clear-blue eyes gave credence to how true this admission was. She looked back down, and saw what Max was speaking of. There were many passages written amongst the illustrations, and these passages were moments of the past that which nobody could read nor imagine. Personal fragments of time these were, guarded carefully by their owner for months, for years on end. Kate looked back to Max, recognition of this honor being relayed through a slow and respectful nod.

There was a strong presence in these moments of silence passing between them, a feeling unlike anything Kate had felt before.

Trust. Mutual, unbreaking.

"…thank you, Max."

"I…I don't expect you to talk about what happened earlier today," Caulfield started, "but know that I'm here for you, just as you're there for me. Because that is what friends promise to each other: to always have each other's backs, no matter what."

Kate smiled, and repeated the solemn oath, "No matter what."