Rebecca felt her chest clench at the last sentence, fighting the urge to puke up her very delicious breakfast. It was no secret that she was the 'new blogging phenomenon' who was expected to say something and force Kennedy into a trial that she wouldn't have to go through otherwise. It was no secret that Rebecca had been more than willing to put her former friend on blast throughout the duration of her very public arrest and jail time. And it was no secret that Rebecca might be the one to suffer if Kennedy did indeed go to trial.

She checked the time.

10:12 AM.

Celeste should have been awake at that point, and if she wasn't, Rebecca felt like she had every right to go and wake her up with this news. She needed someone to talk to.

Rebecca walked over to Celeste's bedroom door and knocked on it loudly, hoping that she would either wake her friend up or get her already-awake friend out of bed. She heard a faint "Come in!" and opened the door to find Celeste and Spencer cuddling together in Celeste's bed.

"Geez, guys." Rebecca rolled her eyes. "I didn't need to see that."

"Hey, we're fully clothed." Celeste pointed out, "Spencer got here at like 6 AM after he finished his night shift."

"Yeah, so be nice to me." Spencer grinned. Rebecca laughed and sat on the edge of the bed after flipping on the light switch.

"I guess y'all make a cute couple." She heaved a dramatic sigh, "But I have a problem."

"Spill." Celeste instructed, sitting up on her bed and leaning back against a mountain of pillows. Spencer sat up as well, opting to walk over to Celeste's beanbag chair and crash there.

"So, Kennedy's lawyer called me a few hours ago..."

Rebecca launched into the story of just that morning's events, which seemed to include an incredible amount of information before 10:30 AM. She told them about Hotchky's phone call, the article in the news, and how Rebecca herself had essentially been called out at the end of it.

"...and so now I don't know what to do." She finished, "And I was wondering if you guys could help me out with that one."

Celeste breathed a huge sigh of confusion and probable relief that the story had come to an end, while Spencer laid on the beanbag chair, staring at the ceiling with his eyes open wide and mouth open wider. Rebecca sometimes forgot that he had only heard her stories second-hand from Celeste in recent weeks, and this was the first time he was listening to Rebecca tell her own stories. They most likely sounded completely fictitious to someone who didn't know what had been going on since the beginning.

"Well, that's a big one, Bec." Celeste shook her head, "But I think that if you have information that can help bring justice for Hank Wilcox and his family, you should use it."

"I know, and that's what I was thinking about too." Rebecca responded, "I just...I don't know. A huge part of me is saying that if Kennedy is telling the truth—which I always try to believe the victim—then she was looking out for herself."

"How is she the victim?" Spencer asked in disbelief, "She murdered someone with you in the car and was planning to blame it all on you."

"If she told me the truth, then Wilcox was stalking her and she was worried about her safety." Rebecca replied, "And I believe her about Wilcox. I don't want to be someone who blames the victim. But I just don't know how to go about it this time, because she dragged me into this with her. And that's not really excusable in any sense of the word."

"It's not excusable at all." Celeste repeated emphatically, "I think that regardless of her stance with Wilcox, and regardless of her fearing for her safety, she went out of her way to go and kill someone and pin the blame on someone who was completely innocent and separate from the entire event." She shrugged, "That should absolve you of any guilt if you decide to turn her in. No one would consider what she did to be self-defense. Her life wasn't in immediate danger, and neither was the life of anyone she was with. She killed someone, Rebecca. And however awful Wilcox was, he didn't kill her. He didn't sexually assault her. He called her and harassed her over technology. He should have been arrested, not killed."

Rebecca took a deep breath, feeling it go through her body and come out as she exhaled in what sounded like a car engine coming to a halt.

"You're right." She nodded, "You're right. Kennedy did this. She killed someone. She tried to pin it on me. This shouldn't be a question."

><><><

"Rebecca, it's Lyla. I need to know what happened with Ken. I know we didn't end on good terms...me and her or me and you, I guess. But she was my best friend for so long and I just want to know what happened and if she's in jail for a reason and...I don't know. Call me back please."

"Bec baby, it's Rian. Can you call me back? I just saw that crazy news article and wanted to know if you were gonna tell anyone anything or post anymore on your little blog thing! I think you should tell me what happened before you speak to anyone else, haha. I can come over to your place if it makes it easier at all for ya! Where do you live again? Am I reaching my time limit on the messa—"

"Hi Rebecca. It's Doug. Tell me what happened with Kennedy. I need to know so that I can help her. If you talk to a reporter that would...be a very bad decision. I need Kennedy to come home, I can't have her going to trial and being put through all of that, not when we were finally able to...you know what, whatever. You know everything. Don't talk to anyone if you know what's good for you. And don't take that as a threat and turn me into the cops too. Snitch"

Rebecca put her phone down and exited out of her voicemail, trying not to think about the fact that she was ignoring everyone who had ever had anything to do with Kennedy. She didn't want to see them. She didn't want to speak to them. She didn't want to think about the people who held Kennedy's interests at heart more deeply than her own.

She had also stopped answering her phone at all. Reporters had already called her multiple times, all of them hoping to be the first to get the story about Kennedy Abrams, straight from the source. Straight from the traumatized twenty-two-year-old who was getting cyberbullied left and right over trying to speak her truth.

But she knew what she wanted her truth to be. She knew how she wanted to share everything that had happened. And it would all begin with the blank paper staring at her from her computer screen. All she had to do was start writing, and everything would hopefully come flowing out of her. All she had to do was start writing, and everything would finally be out in the open. All she had to do was start writing, and she might finally be free.