*Mia's P.O.V *

It's easy to smile when you win.
It's easy to laugh when people hail you.

But if you have Lisa grumbling at home, you must hold it in. You let her complain about whatever, then run to your room and squeal into your pillow.

After squealing, I phone my aunt. She picks right away.

"Congratulations, dear! You deserve it!"

"Thanks, thanks!" I say because nothing coherent comes to mind. I am glad she talks for both of us, describing the event like a proud guardian. The call ends with her praises and me smiling till I conk out.

A sunny morning illuminates no sign of my foster mom. I don't care where she is. Her absence allows me to romp around in pyjamas.

Having joined the batch chat group, I find videos upon videos of our performance. My band's own is worse. I doubt I can read over three thousand messages, let alone while they're increasing.

I set the phone down, go outside, touch grass, retreat, and pick it up again. I spend the day on it, save for time to eat and do homework.

It takes me a lot of willpower to ignore this gadget the next day. Aunt Lisa is in her room. I make less noise and leave early.

I am unsurprised when the school gates welcome me into a deserted campus. Given our win, students must either assume it's a holiday or plan chaos.

My first class fills up in the nick of time. I bury my head to avoid stares, only for Noah to wack my head as Mrs Peters walks in.

"Hey!" I scowl while he beams. "Sup, celebrity."

"I'm not a celebrity."

"Oh really?" He motions to four peers staring at us from the front row.

I groan, "Please tell me no one plans on surprising me."

"Only time will tell," he jests.

I shake my head, focusing on Mrs Peters. She teaches in her chirpy nature despite occasional yawns and murmurs. I ignore glances, paying attention. When she assigns us to do another intrinsic analysis of any literary canon, I recall how Charlie gushed over Macbeth.

I find a copy during recess. As the librarian's substitute processes the book, I ask whether someone has returned a certain Nancy Drew book.

She shakes her head. Doubting that she'll recognise Charlie, I thank her again.

Where is he? He wouldn't miss school for nothing.

*Charlie's P.O.V*

I can't hear much. I sink into a worn-out mattress.

Leo's father removes a nail clipper from his pocket and then strides towards the hay. He spares me a glance before lifting a pallid hand. I watch him clip the man's nails, after which he sighs.

"How would you want to die?"

I can't hear.

"I bet you don't want it to suck like this." He motions to the man whose head is sticky from the bullet Leos father punctured through him.

I breathe in.

A lengthier pause proceeds. His bald head begins to glow under the moonlight shed through crevices in the cabin. The scar slashed past his cheek seems more menacing.

As though reading my mind, he touches it and gets up. "Contemplate it in your sleep."

How presumptuous of you to assume I can sleep.

*

My eyes remain glued to the hay until the cabin door reopens. Sun rays light up everywhere too soon.

I groan, shielding my eyes.

"Good. You're awake." He shuts the door after himself, to my infinitesimal relief.

I tilt, only to see him seated a few inches away. He starts an off-putting hum, chin on his fist.

"Who else have you told besides the cops?"

I bite a nail.

He scoffs and then reaches for his back pocket. Revealing a candy wrapper, he dips two fingers in it. A third finger comes out, slender, and ringed.

"You know, the woman you saw was married," he drawls," to a certain... Joe Yeltsin."

Isn't that Mia's aunt's name?

His smile turns smug. "A lady with the same name came to you, isn't it?"

I shut my eyes.

All goes quiet until my stomach rumbles.

He chuckles, "That reminds me of our last conversation... yes, I thought you should die in a car accident. Much more convenient for me, eh?"

I open them.

"Ah, you can't drive. Ok... Sydney was driving then. I don't mind a little collateral damage."

When he still gets no reaction, he claps. I wince.

Gone is my resolve. I wince, and everything collapses. "What do you want from me? What are you waiting for?!"

"This." He stands. His face becomes inscrutable, though I know nothing good is in store. As he squats closer, I predict his mindset.

"I'm not doing anything for you."

He smiles. "What about your mom?"

"It sounds like you don't know her."

He grunts, "I already have taps on Joe, but... I don't know why she left only to return last Friday. Any idea?"

I shrug.

Leo's dad doesn't react. It takes him closely inspecting my jumper to meet my gaze again. "No wonder Leo's fond of you."

He's trying to trigger me again. I shut my eyes. Go away. Please!

*

It's Tuesday, and I'm getting weak. Not a single bone moves upon Leo's dad's rearrival.

He sits at the same spot, carrying a tray of water, biscuits, and marshmallows.

He tosses a biscuit, and it lands on the dirty floor.

"Won't you pick it up and eat?"

No.

He observes me with a deep sigh, adding, "It's Leo's favourite snack, you know. He would eat like this -" Then, he holds two more and sandwiches a marshmallow between them. He stretches his hand, so the sugarcoated 'sandwich' grazes my lips. Slowly, they part, letting my incisors tear through sugar and dough. I chew a little. My throat burns from a sudden burst of flavour.

Handing me the entire tray, he mutters, "Here. You need energy for today."

I'm too famished to wonder what he means. I empty the plate in a few minutes, much to his delight. Tucking his pistol in his back pocket, he sets the tray somewhere and rolls his sleeves.

His gait towards the hay stack is sharp. The father hurls his recent kill, whose leg glides over his buff shoulders like paper.

"Come."

I nod, albeit my aching limbs. A few staggering attempts later, I am beside him, pushing the key he gave me into the door. Immediately I swing it open and see bright clouds, there's a barrel at my back.

"Head down."

I stagger, gaze trained on grass, mud, then sand and finally tiles. He nudges me to open the door again. I keep my head bowed while his pistol guides me into a washroom.

I lock us in and give him the keys. The dead body slumps into a jacuzzi. He strips it naked.

"Wash them." He flings the clothes at me.

I freeze as he removes a chainsaw from a gap that adjoins the jacuzzi to the tiled wall. It's after he turns the sink's faucet on that I remember not to look. He severs the neck, whereas I rub soap on the muddied singlet.

A metallic scent permeates the air. I keep washing and touching water, reminding myself to remain composed. As it runs down, foam and dark tornado swim into the plughole. I rub and rinse until a caller tune erupts.

He raises a finger for me to halt. There's a barely audible noise before he chortles, "Leo, why would I bother your friends? I have better use of my time, as you well know."

I freeze.

"... Why are you so stupid?" He grits his teeth, removing his gloves. Then, he storms out with the chainsaw.

Locked in, I finally open my mouth. I lean on the seat, holding my hair back as marshmallows and biscuits reemerge in a cacophony of coughs. As they burn the back of my tongue, I see an air freshener in the toilet bowl. It smells like berries. I like berries.

Nice thoughts, Charlie.

Everything comes out fast as I try to focus on berries. I feel dizzy....

Flushing seconds later, I detach and break the freshener, careful not to be loud.

I form a flat plastic stick. After gnawing off the edges like the crocked end of the door key, I slip it in. The keyhole doesn't budge. I bite the end of the plastic and try again.

Slowly, a click resonates. I exhale, peeping through. When the coast seems clear, I tiptoe out.

My first observation - barred windows - dampen my spirits, followed by the dolls staring from every corner. If they are around to frighten me, I don't care. I'm tired.

I enter the living room when his voice reverberates behind the front door.

"Listen to me, you ungrateful..."

I double back and enter a corridor, only to hear a thud under my feet. Instantly, I halt. Leo's dad is still talking.

Thank goodness. I kneel beside the guilty tile. It shudders as I press it. I can't risk breaking the plastic stick, though. I scan the corridor until my gaze falls on a coat rack. Breaking off the rack's loosest metal hook is also a struggle. My hands are sore by the time I succeed.

It's a miracle I haven't been caught yet.

Shaking off my pain, I hammer the tile until it cracks. A familiar strap comes into view underneath. I exhale, straining, pulling it out.

My bag! Oh, thank God.

Before I know it, I'm holding my phone, reaching Harry. Someone picks up, but I hear my capturer's voice in the background and immediately hang up.

Why in the world does Leo have Harry's phone?! I'm sure he stopped talking, and his father realised why.

I'm dead.

I have to think fast. I consider calling Sydney when suddenly, a number dawns on me. I dial it from memory and hear, "Hello? "

"Get Mia out. He'll kill her."

"Excuse me -"

"He wants to know why you came back. I have a feeling he'll figure it out no matter what. Save your niece."

That's when she sighs. "So, it's you. I told you calling the cops was dumb. But do you know what's dumber? Not accepting my help."

"I don't need it. I need you to take Mia with you. Please!"

"And you?"

"Miss Yeltsin, like I said when we first met, I'll be fine - OK, ok, save my mother and YOUR NIECE!" I whisper-yell and hang up.

Now, I can't call Sydney. Leo's dad is unlocking the front door. He grumbles about how confusing the keys are while I rummage my bag for anything else useful.

My hands pounce on something, so I hide my bag under the tile. Bolting to the washroom, I lock the door with the plastic, only for the keyhole to reverse.

I jerk back, tumbling into the jacuzzi.

"Oh, I scared you!" The father appears with a laugh. I start quivering. I feel blood soaking my trousers. I feel a ribcage.

I feel sick.

"C'mon, get up," he chortles. I can't. I'm not just sitting on a dead body; there's my phone and something.

"Please, can I just -" I pause as the phone slips off my grasp.

"What's that?!" He bursts. My free hand points to my buttocks.

He snarls, "Disgusting," and then opens the door. "I'll be right behind. Don't try anything funny."

The door shuts after him, and I grip a towel hanger to lift myself. I turn, and bile rises in my throat.

I can't believe I just sat on this poor man. Mentally uttering a million apologies, I rearrange his thighs, skull and... other body parts. I see the phone in his blood and instantly flush it down the toilet.

Sydney, I am so sorry. I am left with one more item in hand-Harry's pills.

Harry, forgive me.

*

*Mia's P.O.V *

After borrowing more books, I step into the cafeteria when a hand drags me out.

"Kean, what is it?!" I jolt. Instead of replying, this girl props her muscles over my shoulder. She releases me in the assembly hall, where Dalia sits onstage. In place of instruments, a podium and a banner hang from the left corner.

"We'll be celebrating here tomorrow," Kean announces. "Everyone needs to be here to plan it."

Dalia jumps down. "Kat is left."

"And Harry," I point out.

On cue, our lead singer appears. "Leo, wait for me at the car park," he utters to someone before quickly shutting the door.

Kean frowns as he raps, "I have to take a raincheck. Keep me posted on whatever happens, ya?"

"Sure." Dalia grabs what is apparently not her bag.

He catches it, and bolts like the building is on fire. Kean and I share confused glances while Dal mutters, "I'm going to look for Kat. Don't leave too."

Obliging, I find a seat. Kean leans on a wall. When the door bursts again, however, our bandmates don't trot in; Rexha does.

I grimace.

"Urm, is Kat here?!" she asks frantically.

Before we decide to respond, Dalia and Kat arrive right behind her.

She exhales and then shrieks, "We have to stop!"

"Girl, what nonsense are you spewing -"

"Katherine, I am serious. We have to stop production. We can't sell the magazines."

"Why?"

"Because -" Rexha cuts herself off. Kat glares as she rocks on the balls of her feet.

"Because what?"

"Katherine, it's not me -"

"What did you do?"

"I -" She hesitates again, turning to the rest of us. "Let's talk somewhere."

Kat seethes, "Girl, I don't have the energy for another prank -"

"Alright- I asked Anna to write a piece for me, and she... she fucked it up, so you can't -"

"Excuse me?" Kat scowls.

"What do you mean by she fucked it up? Does this have to do with...ur-" Kean stands straight. "The... twin story?"

"Kinda."

My eyes dilate in realisation, whereas Kat rolls hers.

"Ur, " Rexha flounders, "actually, what she wrote was more ... sensitive."

At this juncture, our drummer sends us an apologetic smile, then bangs the door open for her. Rexha doesn't even mind my glower. She bows her head until both she and Kat are out of sight.

"What twin story?" An abandoned Dalia stares at us, clueless.

Kean groans, "Even Mia knows this."

"Only a little. "

*

By Tuesday, I choose not to ask Anna anything. Why?

Well, first of all, I have to be happy. Today is party day. Secondly, I don't want to think the worst of Anna, and last but not least... It's not my business.

My business is completing all my homework and remaining consistent in chemistry.

After a lesson of sodium aluminium phosphate, the rest of my day blurs till school closes. I head to the assembly hall. Now that it is decorated with balloons. A buffet beckons me to the stage. I beam at the mouthwatering dishes as Dalia - Miss Punctual band member - turns on some speakers.

"This is VIP!" She grins. "I call dips on all the wings."

"I want the pizzas."

"Girl, don't you work where they make some?"

In a flash, Dalia is jumping on Kat. "You still CAME!!"

Kean also enters, and we hug. "Harry says he's on a trip," she mutters, releasing me. Dalia frowns but then remembers to ask," Guys, we should move to the pool area then! No one is there, and I have the keeey! Their coach is super lovely -"

"Dal-"

"Come on. We can't just sit here and wait for Miss Leslie."

Kat rolls her eyes. "Who will take of the food?"

I volunteer. However, my fellow guitarist is already summoning an obvious first-year student inside. She gives her instructions.

"There's no need," I say.

"If you do your job well, I'll ... take a picture with you," Kean still lures the pig-tailed girl.

Dalia takes the lead, and we eventually follow. As weird as this is, I am happy to see Dalia take such an initiative. She even shares swimsuits for us.

I refuse mine.

"Why, can't you swim?" She pouts.

"Na, sorry."

I can't tell if she believes me because she turns to unlock the pool's entrance.

For about four minutes, I watch them giggle and splash water at each other. Our agreement is ten minutes if Leslie doesn't call. I can wait. I am busy on the internet when Joe's number interrupts.

Immediately I pick up, she blurts, "Are you at school?"

"Yes," I wonder. "Is everything alright?"

"Come to the car park."

I don't like the curtness in her tone. Perhaps it's an emergency. I yell something along the lines of a goodbye to my bandmates and then rush to her location.

She honks for me to find her. I don't even get to put on a seatbelt before she drives out of my school.

"Joe, what's the problem?"

She shakes her head, bending a curve. "We'll talk at the airport."

"Air- Airport?"

"Yes, I'm taking you back with me."

"That's impossible!" I shriek.

However, as she glances at me, I realise she has a blank, hazy gaze ... as though someone is dead.

"I-" she whispers, "I offered to help him. All he had to do was talk. But, what happened instead? He avoided me. Now, it's over for him and, eventually, whoever he thinks he's protecting."