After visiting Carter, Rebecca drives us to a grotty looking bar called The Joint. It's close to school and they do under 18 nights so it's often crammed full of our classmates.

It's for that reason that I haven't attended since before I became a monster.

"I don't want to go, Rigor," I say.

"Andrea's band is playing a gig there," she says as though that explains everything.

She parks the hearse down the slick black road, the rain still drumming against the roof.

"Nerdy Andrea? Well then, that just changes everything..." I mutter.

Rebecca gives me a deadpan look.

"Yes. Andrea is a nerd. I'm a nerd. Jared is a nerd, we're all..."

"I'm not a nerd," grumbles Jared from the back of the vehicle.

Rebecca grins.

"Are too... anyway, Andrea's actually pretty cool once you get to know her. Come on, it'll be fun. Plus, we need to look over the new file."

I look out of the window. There's a crowd joking around underneath umbrellas at the entrance and I feel a jolt of sadness inside. I used to love coming here. But that was before. And this is now.

I don't belong here anymore.

Rebecca opens the car door and I grab her arm – mortified at the desperation rising inside of me.

"I'm not dressed right. I don't look right. People will stare at me."

She holds my gaze as Jared clambers out of the back.

"Let them," she says.

Neither of us speaks for a few moments and I'm only marginally aware that I'm still clinging onto her wrist. She makes no move to pull away though.

"What if people laugh at me?" I say.

She looks at me squarely.

"What if they don't? What if me, you and Jared get totally caffeine high off those awful watery cappuccinos they serve, have a laugh, and listen to some live music? What if we all look through the casefile of Eleanor Masters together, instead of you having to do it alone? What if you actually have a great time?"

She raises her eyebrows at me as my mind tries to process what she's saying.

What if she's right? What if I stop worrying what people think and do what I actually want to do for once?

Then Jared raps on the window, making me jump and breaking me out of my thoughts. There's rainwater streaming through his closely shaved black hair and down his face. His lips are pursed and his eyes have the angry glint behind them that I noticed when I first met him.

"Are you guys coming or what?" he snaps, "I don't know if you've noticed but it's raining out here."

"Oh, I'm sorry, is your hair getting messed up?" Rebecca bellows out at him, "God, he's such a little diva. Anyway, you up for it?"

I find the corner of my lip tugging upwards at the thought of big, muscular Jared being referred to as a little diva. I exhale heavily then nod.

"Fine."

Rebecca grins and I return it. Then the two of us get out of the car.

Inside, The Joint is just how I remembered it - dark, loud, and crowded. There are about twenty assorted tables gathered around a small raised stage area - where Andrea is playing drums in a band led by a gangly looking teenage boy. They're playing a slightly off key cover of a Blink 182 song - clearly making up for the lack of singing talent by sheer volume. At one side of the room is a dingy bar serving bottled soft drinks and coffee. The space smells like stale beer, perfume and barely masked adolescent sweat.

It should be disgusting but I find myself grinning as Rebecca waves to the band, then leads us across the sticky floor to a quieter booth in one of the bar's alcoves. No-one seems to look twice at me as I pass.

"I'll get us some coffees," says Rebecca.

She jumps up, leaving me and Jared alone. 

I watch her go, feeling the rise of alarm inside of me. Me and Jared haven't been left alone very often and I still get the distinct feeling he doesn't really like me. I turn back to look at him and see him awkwardly fiddling with a beer mat, refusing to meet my eye.

Finally he looks up at me, opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it again.

"Um...nice...jacket?" I say.

He looks at his black leather sleeves, wet from the rain, then nods stiffly.

"Um...thanks."

Silence.

Oh God, why does Rebecca have to take a million years to order a few coffees.

"Interesting...music," he says, gesturing at the band who are now completely butchering a Fall Out Boy track.

I nod over-emphatically, then feel like an idiot as confusion at my weird enthusiasm for this terrible music crosses his face.

Rebecca suddenly looms out of nowhere and plonks three chipped mugs down onto the table, spilling cappuccino foam onto the scratched surface. Relief washes over me at her return and I see it mirrored in Jared's face.

"Took your time," he says.

"I was, like, two minutes, Jared," she says. "Anyway - check it out, Mr Redwood at weird o clock."

Jared gives her an exasperated look.

"We've talked about this before, Becs. You're supposed to say a time to discreetly indicate the direction we should look. Weird o clock isn't a direction..."

She rolls her eyes as she plonks herself in the booth next to me.

"Whatever, look, over there. He's sat in the corner by the stage. What's he doing here? Something weird is going on."

Jared and I both follow her gaze. Sure enough, he's sat alone – the oldest person in The Joint by far. There's a newspaper on the table in front of him but he's not looking at it. There's something of a predatory look about his face as his beady eyes dart around the dingy bar.

"Becs, he could just be here for a drink after school," says Jared – though his voice is laced with uncertainty.

As I stare at him though, my instinct mirrors Rebecca's. There's something off about him.

"Hmmm," she says, "maybe. Well, anyway...let's check out the new file."

I nod and produce it from under my jacket, placing it on the table. Together we flick it open, my heart thumping as I start to learn more about the girl whose left leg I now possess.

The first page shows a glossy professionally taken photograph of Eleanor.

She was stunningly attractive - curly red hair, unblemished skin and piercing green eyes. In the photo she looks so full of life it makes me sick that now she is dead. Unconsciously I find myself tapping my left leg with my fingers – the left leg that isn't really mine.

I turn the page quickly, not wanting to look into her eyes any longer than I have to, to reveal the missing person's report. It transpires that she was a part-time model and had been booked for some kind of performance art event up in Manchester. It was the last time she was ever seen alive.

The last page consists of all the details that Carter has managed to Google on the victim including her high school, modelling agency and a more in depth account of the last time she was seen. As we skim through the page Rebecca suddenly pulls the file towards her. Her eyes darken as she looks up and points to a small, grainy photograph at the bottom of the page.

Jared and I lean closer.

It's a picture of Eleanor smiling with her modelling agent. He's been captioned with a different name but I can see exactly who it is. It's Mr. Redwood.

In a sudden movement the three of us look up, directing out gazes across the bar. 

But it's too late. 

Our teacher is gone.

Rebecca raises a triumphant eyebrow at Jared.

"Told you there was something weird with that guy!" she says. She jumps to her feet, "Come on, let's go see what this creep is up to."