VI

            Kennedy hesitated for a moment before recognizing that she owed Rebecca a bit more of an explanation than she had given.

            "Before we get into that, let me just explain something else. Just...so you understand what happened with me and Hank before the accident."

            "I know what happened." Rebecca replied, looking as if she were about to roll her eyes but stopping short. "You told me that night when you yanked me out to your car."

            "I didn't tell you the full truth that night." Kennedy replied, "I told you what I thought would make you the lowest level of angry with me."

            Rebecca was quiet.

            "Alright," she said, "Spill."

            "Hank Wilcox was a friend of my father's," Kennedy began, "My father always told us that Hank was the reason we were able to go to college, the reason we were able to afford our house. He was the reason that we were as well-off as we were, and my father always said it had something to do with his business. He didn't really give more of an explanation than that. So, when Hank and I started sleeping together, I already knew he was loaded.

"It got to the point that he was buying absolutely everything for me, and I stopped relying on my father for money at all. I stopped speaking to my father, partly because I was a bit embarrassed of the fact that I was sleeping with his good friend, and partly because my father had always been a verbally abusive piece of shit and I was happy for an excuse to not have to speak to him anymore.

"So, when I started to feel guilty about the affair and realized I could make money on my own, and not be reliant on Hank or my father, I tried to cut everything off, just like I told you a few weeks ago. When I talked to you then, I wasn't completely honest about my family's connection to Hank. I knew who he was when I went to see his set, and I knew who he was in the bar. He knew who I was, as well, but he hadn't seen me since I was a kid. Then, when he told me he wanted to leave his wife for me, I ended it. Like I told you."

"How is this giving me any new information?" Rebecca asked, crossing her arms and cocking her head to the side. "You told me all of this when you kidnapped me from my own apartment."

"Shut up, I'm getting there." Kennedy rolled her eyes, "As you know, Hank started calling and texting me constantly, calling me a bitch before saying he wanted me back and would leave his wife anyway, and then started threatening to pull his funds from my father's business. I told him I didn't care, he called my father and told him I stole money from Hank, and that he would be pulling the funding from my dad's practice.

"That's when my dad started calling me constantly. But while my father was trying to get a hold of me, Hank knew exactly where I lived. I would get home from class to see black sedans parked outside my apartment building, with tinted windows and license plates from Florida. It happened every day for two weeks, until I told the police. They told me I was being paranoid, and that the sedans could have been there for a myriad of reasons. But, regardless, the next day the sedans were gone.

"Next came the late-night visits to the apartment. Hank would show up once, twice a week at the minimum, always in varying degrees of sobriety, yelling through the door and insisting I open it up. So, I moved. I moved and blocked his number and blocked him on every platform I could think of. And this worked until the beginning of August, when he found me outside of the gym and almost succeeded at forcing me into his car and back to Tampa with him. That's the day I started making The Plan."

"The plan where you managed to convince me that I was somehow at fault for you running someone over?"

"Okay, I didn't 'run him over,' he flipped over the top of the car," Kennedy corrected instinctively. "But, I guess...yes. So, now you know the reasons behind everything. You know what Hank did, for real this time."

            Kennedy took a deep breath, almost feeling dizzy after recounting everything to Rebecca again, with a little more truth to it this time. Her hands shook in her lap as she waited for Rebecca to say something. Nausea filled her stomach as she was forced to recount the terrible, abusive things Hank had done.

            "Thank you for telling me." Rebecca spoke, "I appreciate it. And I'm still willing to help you with this. It doesn't mean that I forgive you for what you did to me. I just...I want to feel like I'm doing the right thing. And sneaking around to help out your father doesn't strike me as the right thing."

            Kennedy let a small smile grace her lips, and her hands slowly stopped shaking.

            "Great," she nodded, "Let's make a plan."

            "The Plan Part Two, if you will."

            Kennedy rolled her eyes.

            "Uh huh."

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            Rebecca headed home two hours after she had arrived at Kennedy's apartment, a slight skip to her step. Her mind was battling with itself, wishing that she hadn't gone to Kennedy while simultaneously wishing she were still there. She missed being friends with the popular girl, the one who everyone wanted to be around. Granted, the popular girl was now about to stand trial for murder, but she was still the same person Rebecca had idolized. The only thing that changed was that now, Rebecca knew all about the skeletons hiding in Kennedy Abrams' walk-in closet.

            She was about three minutes from her apartment when she actually started listening to the radio.

            "For everyone just tuning in, Kennedy Abrams, the college student accused of murdering millionaire Hank Wilcox, now has a trial date set in stone. Tune in a week from today when we begin our trial day recaps. And feel free to follow us on Twitter, where we'll have someone in the room live-tweeting the whole thing."

            Rebecca pulled over to the side of the road so that she wouldn't accidentally swerve into the middle of the street in her panic. She pulled out her phone just as it started ringing with a call from her lawyer.

            "Hello?" Rebecca answered the phone, "There's a trial date? Am I safe? Are they gonna press charges against me too?"

            "Slow down, Miss Eaves." Nicholas Richter replied, his voice low and controlled, "They set the date because of Mrs. Wilcox's interview. The judge would prefer to get on top of this before it gets too out of control."

            "Mrs. Wilcox's interview?" Rebecca repeated, "What happened there?"

            "Hank Wilcox's wife gave an interview on Mary Haden's show earlier this week. Haden dug deep about how much Mrs. Wilcox knew about Miss Abrams. And she knew far more than any of us thought she knew."

            "Like..."

            "Like how long Miss Abrams was sleeping with Mr. Wilcox. How angry Mr. Wilcox became when Miss Abrams cut everything off. Mrs. Wilcox could tell when it happened, she said. Her husband became irritable and depressed. She spoke of how Miss Abrams took advantage of Mr. Wilcox for his money and then disappeared when she had what she wanted. She also spoke of how when Mr. Wilcox left their home the night he died, they had just finished having a heated argument about where he was going. And as he left the house, he informed her that he was going to meet Miss Abrams, and there was, quote, 'nothing she could do about it.' The interview has been viewed online over five hundred thousand times."

            Rebecca took a deep breath, reminding herself that this wasn't necessarily her problem, if they weren't pressing charges against her. Then she realized that Richter hadn't answered that particular question in the initial barrage when Rebecca picked up the phone.

            "Are they pressing charges against me?"

            "No." Richter replied, "The state has decided against it. They feel that bringing you in as a defendant and not as the plaintiff's witness would end up not working for them."

            "A...a plaintiff's witness? Are they making me testify?"

            Mr. Richter was quiet for a moment, as if he knew his client would not appreciate the answer he was about to give.

            "Yes, Miss Eaves." He said finally, "You will be expected to testify for the state. Against Miss Abrams."

            Rebecca wished he had informed her of that fact before she had agreed to work with her frenemy again.

A/N: Guysssss I think I have an idea for a third book in this series. And I'm lowkey excited about it ahhhhh also I planned out the end of TTTOKA which is simultaneously exciting and terrifying bc I have to write it out in a way that lives up to the plan, you know?