"no one could hold me down. no one could keep me around."

***

Often times, I'll find myself in between dreaming and awake. Things are happening, and I feel every second of it. But I don't remember it, or if I'm doing something, it feels like I'm barely doing it. I'll feel in control in one moment and utterly confused in the next. And when I'm fully aware that I'm dreaming, waking up is the hardest part. Other times, I reassure myself that I'm awake, eyes open, yet later on I find out everything's actually been a dream. The hardest part, then, is distinguishing between the two.

     I roll to my side. There's yelling. Oh no, I think. Here we go again! Wake up, Annalise! Then I realise I'm fully awake. My eyes are closed, but I'm awake. I feel everything around me, the soft duvet covering my body, the sunlight creeping through the gaps in the curtain, my feet feeling like ice, the yelling—everything feels real. I'm not dreaming.

     The voices get louder. There's the sound of shoes stomping around the wooden floor.

     "Cut the bullshit, Xand!"

     Dylan.

     I jump out of bed, running straight down the stairs. The voices become louder; clearer, too. I stop at the end to listen.

     "What the hell are you talking about?" Xander asks. His voice is calm compared to Dylan. Calm, cool, collected, as always. The two of them are in the living room. There's a wall by the stairs that covers me from being seen. I feel my heart race.

     "You know something, don't you?"

     "What?"

     "And you made me look like the bad guy back there when you stormed out," Dylan says, chuckling at the last part. "But I'm not the one who should be feeling guilty, am I?"

     Suddenly I find myself peeling away from the wall, backing up and slowly moving. One step at a time, but fast enough that I surprise myself. The boys turn to look at me, fire in both their eyes—though Xander doesn't show it much. I stand there wide-eyed.

     "What's going on?" I ask, trying to keep a steady voice. When neither of them answers, I ask again, louder and slower this time. "What's going on?"

     Dylan tenses up, eyes fixed on me. "I trusted you."

     "Dylan, what—"

     "Both of you. I trusted both of you," he calmly states, one hand reaching into the pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper and throws it at Xander. It hits his chest and lands on the floor, and Dylan storms out before any of us can comprehend what is happening, slamming the door behind him.

     "What the hell, Xander?" I ask.

     He stares at the paper on the floor. "I—I don't know."

     "Xand—"

     "I'm serious!" he looks at me, confused as ever. Kneeling down, he grabs the paper and holds it in his grip. "He showed up a few minutes ago and just started yelling at me...I don't know!"

     I walk over to him. He flattens out the sheet, and I look over his shoulder to see what's on it. It's tiny, so he holds it closer to his eyes, but I can see the words perfectly.

Xander holds the truth. He knows.

     We stand there still frozen in place.

     Someone was at the park with us yesterday, listening to our every word.

***

The whole day at school Dylan ignores me. Ocean, too, so I guess she knows the story already. Every time I try to talk to either one of them, I become invisible. When Xander makes his attempt, Dylan returns it with a short—but painful—line or with nothing at all. I know he's angry, but so are Xander and I. We have no idea what's happening, and Dylan yelling and leaving a crazy, mysterious piece of paper behind only makes it worse. The words written on it sticks to the back of my mind like a leech. The silent treatment from my two friends tops everything off.

     I walk down the hallway with my gaze low. Xander has football practice today, so I don't wait up for him to go home. And Dylan—well, given the situation we're in, he's out of the equation. It feels weird to break a routine. Something as simple as walking home alone becomes a completely new experience that waits to be learned all over again.

     When I pass by Escape, a familiar blondie catches my attention. I step in, the familiar bell ringing above me as I open the door. It sounds way too cheerful, but then again not everyone is having a bad day like I am. Fayes is nowhere in sight and I figure he's probably in the storage room unpacking boxes or something. Maybe it's his day off. I realised in all the time I spent here, I've never asked him if he works every day or not. I ought to start paying attention to others, huh?

     As I expect, Ocean is inside, all the way at the back of the store with a record in hand. She turns around when the door opens, and when she sees me standing there, returns to her original position with her back facing me. I sigh as I stand there, my mind busy rearranging the words I'm supposed to say. They're all over the place. The music blasting through the speaker becomes my guide and I walk across the store to its slow rhythm, still not knowing what to say.

     I stand next to her, though there is a noticeable space between us. She has her eyes glued to the track list of some record and her lips are pursed. When done, she picks up another random one and does the same; anything to not acknowledge my presence. The words are still not coming by, and I eventually give up, saying the first thing that comes to my mind.

     "So that's it?" I quietly ask. My voice comes out softer than I hope it would. "You're just going to pretend like I don't exist anymore?"

     She doesn't say a word. Instead, she casually walks over to another section.

     I yell over the music, "Hey! Come on, I'm trying here!"

     Suddenly she turns, startling me who's trying to catch up behind her. Her bright blue eyes are piercing at me and I can't help but feel intimidated by them. And yet, we keep our gazes. We look at each other in a way that we've never done so in all our years of being friends and it is scaring me.

     "The truth, Ann," she says sternly. "I want the truth—whatever the hell it is."

     "It's not my place to tell."

     "What?"

     "It's Xander's story," I reassure her. "He ought to be the one to tell it."

     And that's the truth—at least from my part. A confession as big as Xander's isn't something that can be told by others. It's his' and his' only. Scratch that—a confession, no matter how small or big it is, should only be told by the one holding it.

     "What the hell are you saying?"

     I grab her hand and lead her out of the store. "It's complicated. Listen, yes, I did go home with Xander that day and yes, he told me the reason why he snapped at the park that morning. We have to find him, alright?"

     We continue on to the sidewalk. Ocean's walking a little slower than me but with everything I'm dropping on her right now, it's understandable. I wonder how she'll react when Xander does tell his story, though. Will she be in the same place as I was—mentally? Will she be calmer, or will she take it badly? Will she even believe him, in the first place?

     My thoughts continue to stroll alongside with me.

     "It'll make a little bit more sense," I continue, looking back at her to make sure she's following. "Not a lot. Actually, it may not make any sense at all, but at least you'll hear it from him. Dylan needs to hear it, too."

     "But, the paper Dylan found," she stops on her tracks, looking for the right words to say, "how?"

     "I guess we're about to find out."