Zara burst into the bathroom, her face contorted in absolute grief. She allowed herself to cry like she had never cried before—Zara didn't wipe away the tears, the runny nose, the drool down the side of her mouth. Her eyes were red and puffy, and tendrils of hair stuck to her sweaty face. Her cries resembled donkey brays; it was a miracle that the mirrors hadn't shattered from her hideousness.

Zara slammed the palm of her hand down onto the tap and splashed water onto her face, over and over, until it grew numb and water dripped down her neck, into her shirt. Shivers ran down her spine from the cold, like the sense of abandonment that washed over her. When Max had told her that he was now hated by his friends, Zara hadn't thought much of it. After all, she still had all of her own friends.

Not anymore. They may not have beat her black and blue, but the betrayal was an even greater physical blow. So many people had come and go in her life, and for once she had obtusely placed her trust in them, showing parts of her she hadn't dared show to others.

But where did this all lead her to? Hovering over the sink in the school bathroom, crying her eyes out, alone.

I knew you couldn't trust them, the voice began its vicious cycle of aspersion.

Zara kept her eyes on the soap dispenser, willing it to go away. Of course it wouldn't, it never did as it was told, but it was worth a try.

I warned you back at the lair, but did you listen? Nope. You never listen to me, ever!

Hate to admit it, but she's right.

Something made her lift her head up to her reflection in the mirror. Except that it wasn't exactly her reflection.

That Zara wore glasses, had brown eyes, and had her hair up in a ponytail.

The real one almost jumped out of her skin.

"What-what—" Zara stumbled backwards into the bathroom stall. She tripped over her own feet, and in the attempt to regain her balance, grabbed onto the stall-door, nearly ripping it off its hinges. Her hair swept a breath away from the toilet seat, but Zara managed to recompose herself, even though her limbs were bent at awkward angles.

Don't panic. It's just another hallucination.

Oh, don't give me that.

The reflection adjusted her glasses. Pull yourself together.

Zara straightened and tentatively walked over to the mirror She placed her hand on the face of the reflection, but it snorted in response.

"Wh-who are you?" Zara wrenched her hand away from the mirror and chewed the inside of her cheek.

The reflection rolled her eyes, her voice reverberating in Zara's head.

I'm Zara. I mean...I'm you. I'm that person you become every time you, She snapped her fingers, and her head lolled to one side, tongue rolling out, Pass out.

"So like...an alter-ego."

Yeah, you can say that. I'm the more quiet, studious, reserved side. An introvert. I never react to things as explosively as you do, nor participate in any of those crimes.

Zara nodded slowly, letting that information sink in. "Why are you here?"

Because I never get a chance to come out anymore! You're always on edge, always fighting...and now that you gained this emotional attachment to Max... She threw her hands up in the air and turned away, Why him? Out of all people? He's the one that ruined your life! Turned all your friends away! Alter-Zara wasn't exactly shouting, but she was on the verge of doing so.

"Oh man, not you too," Zara buried her face in her hands out of exasperation, "Help me. What should I do to make this better?" Asking for help was a rarity, but it had to be done. Even if it was just to herself.

Alter-Zara eyed Zara suspiciously from behind her glasses. You never ask for help.

"I never asked for help. But I have now, and you will help me."

Or else? She raised a challenging eyebrow.

"Did you see what I did back there? I stopped you from coming out. I'm learning, and soon enough I will be able to block you out completely."

You wouldn't. Her jaw had dropped onto the floor in shock.

"Oh I would. I got nothing to lose."

Alright, alright. The only way you can win your friends back is if—

"Hold up. Who said anything about that? I'm out of that shit, those people aren't my friends."

But I thought that's what you needed help with? To win them back?

"No. It's me, myself, and I from now on. I've obviously been repl—"

The bathroom door got pushed open and she walked in.

Speak of the devil, and the devil appears.

The alter vanished, leaving her regular reflection to stare back at her.

Goddamn.

Zara feigned washing her hands as the girl went into one of the stalls. The scene she had made earlier was already embarrassing, she didn't need Saffron's mistress to rub it in. That was something else she needed to keep in check—her temper. She wouldn't be able to get anything done unless she cleared her head of all unnecessary emotions. Now that she had unofficially been kicked out of the gang, she was absolved. Their problems weren't her problems anymore. Her heart ached at the reality of it, but at the same time it was like an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

When the girl came out and, coincidentally, decided to wash her own hands in the sink besides Zara's, Zara broke away and walked over to the paper-towel dispenser.

"I'm Melissa."

Zara's shoulders tensed up in response. Rather than responding, she focused her attention on methodically pulling out the paper towels, one leaf at a time. She wiped her hands on them slowly, keeping her back to the disturbance.

"I know what happened back there was a little awkward, but I really thought Saffron would've told you about us..."

Okay, it looked like she wasn't going to leave any time soon.

Zara spun on her heel and dropped the balled up towels in the trashcan. "What do you want? I bet Saffron sent you here to apologise on his behalf, the coward."

"No." Her eyes flitted downwards and she ran her hand over the rim of the sink, "I just had to use the bathroom...I didn't think you'd be here to be honest. Like, it was a little awkward for me to listen to all of that, but I do know where you're coming from."

Now that Zara could have a good look at her, she realised that Melissa looked like a more sophisticated version of her. Her face was made up, her hair was layered, and her clothes looked fashionable. She looked like a Mary Sue, except for a tattoo that adorned her neck—edgy, but not trashy.

Zara looked like a trashcan.

No wonder Saffron would choose this girl, she was like the yin to his yang. The perfect couple.

Zara shrunk deeper into her rags, her lips pursed. There really wasn't anything she could say.

"It's kind of weird how similar we look," Melissa continued.

That comment was out of the blue.

That's what I was thinking.

"Small world huh?" Zara tried to force a smile on her face, but none seemed to come. There was nothing to smile about, "Really, though, forget what I said before about punching your face and stuff, I didn't mean any of it."

"No worries. You were just mad, that's all." She beamed at Zara, and she couldn't help but smile back.

This girl was pretty and nice. Zara wanted to puke at her friendliness, but at the same time she wanted to get to know this girl. It wasn't a conscious choice—it was more like the magnetic pull of curiosity.

"I haven't seen you around before. Are you new?"

"I've been around for a couple of weeks now," Melissa chuckled awkwardly, twisting a curl around her finger, "Moved her from Washington because of my mom's job."

"Not too big a move then." Zara nodded, playing with the edge of her sweater. Strange that she had been around for such a long time, yet never noticed her around. She was probably too caught up in herself to pay any attention, and they probably didn't share any classes.

"Right." Melissa mimicked the gesture, a smile on her face, "I used to go to a Sandbrook High, but the drama program here is way better."

"That's interesting. You want to be an actress or something?" The school was known for their drama program. Zara never attended any plays, or any school events in general, though; she preferred to not waste her precious after-school time around people she hated.

"I'd love to star in a Broadway show one day! My vocal coach says I have the potential for it, but as of now I've only ever had minor roles. Last month, I auditioned for The Moonlighter of Graham Hill, where I was meant to play a thief trying to heist a bank. It was really fun to get into the whole persona of this middle-aged man with delusions of grandeur, and definitely something different! They had real security cameras and everything, and the vault looked so real!"

Too bad the real deal isn't that great, Zara thought sympathetically. Saffron probably didn't tell her about his double-life, or she would have already run for the hills. She was very talkative, but a little naive about the real world. Oh well, Zara wouldn't be the one to burst her little bubble.

"That sounds really good...Melissa...but I think it's time for class now," Zara said, checking the time. She twisted the backpack straps in her hand, a sheepish smile on her face. Melissa nodded enthusiastically and stepped out of the bathroom, holding the door open for Zara to walk through.

As the two walked together down the now crowded corridor Zara said, "Take good care of Saffron for me, he's inherently a good guy."

"I will." Melissa looked confused as Zara increased her pace, shoving through the throng of students and away from that sickly-sweet girl. Melissa seemed better suited to her friends than Zara, and if fate wanted it to be that way, then there was nothing Zara could do about it.

It was time for her to go on her own mission.

Reconcile with Max.

-:-