EVERYTHING, ALL AT once.

I black out for what feels like an eternity, but must really only be a handful a seconds. For a brief, blinding moment, I'm transported out of the dark basement, and into the deepest of recesses in my brain, into my previously unrecoverable memory bank. And, like the persistent rushing of a waterfall, my memories come down on me all at once, hitting me square in the chest and making it hard to breathe. It feels like a remarkable phenomena, but at the same time it feels unceremonious.

I remember everything.

Growing up with Audrey, fighting over trivial things, like dolls and candy when we were little, and then things like boys and clothes when we were older. Seeking solace in her presence when we learned of our father's infidelity, and sharing her bitterness over our mother's new, misdirected anger. I remember laughing with her, sharing secrets in the latest hours of the night. I remember drifting apart as we grew older, our conversations quickly dissolving into screaming matches as all of us fumbled through our unresolved problems, and abandonment issues.

I remember my dad.

The way he was always the parent I was closest to, how he was my confidant, and best friend. Until he betrayed us all in the worst way, choosing a younger woman over the three of us, packing up and disappearing out of our lives without so much as a goodbye. And I remember how my heart is still broken every year on my birthday when all I receive from him is radio silence.

Images come flooding back, as if I'm recalling them one by one, and I remember brief flashes of different life stages; my drunken kiss with Parker in the middle of the night, the pounding bass-line of a distant party as our soundtrack. The night I ended up falling into bed with Dylan and being unable to rid myself of him for the next two years. My camaraderie with James, my curiosity about Mason, the dashing, taciturn tag-along to our little group. My ever-growing, and dangerous jealousy of Zoe Hendriks.

Then there are the more haunting memories. The horrible first night in the forest returns to me in flashes I'd rather not dwell on, bearing similarities to both the second time Zoe attacked me, and my current circumstances.

It's as though I'm coming back into my body after a long absence, finally awake and aware of everything. Momentarily, my skin feels like my own again, and it's a relief and a burden at the same time. I feel like I'm able to breathe after being starved for air for far too long.

And then I register what's just happened; the reason I blacked out in the first place.

I'm splayed out on my back, propped up by my elbows, flecks of blood that aren't my own staining my recently reclaimed skin. I can't tell if my heart has stopped altogether, or if it's simply moving too fast for me to register individual beats. My throat is dry, my palms sweaty, and I blink, dragging myself further away from the horrific scene with trembling hands, resisting the burning urge to vomit.

There's no need to check for a pulse.

The motionless girl lying a few feet away is clearly dead, the pungent smell of blood and self-slaughter filling the room.

She's gone.

Her previously glowing blonde locks are steadily turning a menacing crimson, and I'm unable to tear my eyes away. I never would've imagined it would end this way. The gun lays beside her, just out of reach of her limp hand, her fingertips stretching for what they'll never touch again. I think about those same fingers being wrapped around my neck, those same fingers clutching the handle of a blade as they plunged into my stomach.

I don't feel any sense of mourning.

✘✘✘

In the eerily silent basement, I have no concept of time, but I know that I don't move for a long time.

My bones begin to feel stiff from my position, as I continue to stare despondently at the girl. I think I must be in shock, but all I feel is numb, and frozen in place. Three words ring out in my head, over and over again, like a monotonous anthem. A chorus of victory. They're simply a fact, a truth about the situation, a reminder to myself, as if the sight in front of me isn't enough:

Zoe is dead.

Finally, I convince myself that I need to get up, that there are still things to do, and I can't remain here forever. There's still the matter of finding Mason and getting the hell out of here, and the fact that Dylan and James are both roaming the hallways as well.

One down, two to go.

Rigidly, I push myself to my feet, and I don't tremble anymore. Instead, my body is perfectly still, and I feel a surprising sense of calm. Making for the door, I step over the discarded ropes, and bottles of cleaning supplies that fell over during our struggle. Dodging Zoe's lifeless corpse without looking down, my movements are both robotic, and zombie-like. I pull the door open, stepping into the dark hallway where James, Dylan, and Mason disappeared, and I head for the staircase at the end, leaving a part of my soul behind in that horrible room to rot away into inexistence.

Before, this setting felt unfamiliar to me, but I know where I'm going now.

I remember on the night of the Halloween dance last year, Dylan and I snuck down here to hook up. My mind latches onto that memory as I slowly move up the stairs, thinking about leading him down here, his hand tucked firmly in mine as he gazed at me with lovestruck eyes. I remember the feeling of victory I used to get when he looked at me that way, because despite my lack of romantic feelings for him, I knew it bothered Zoe because she wanted him. It's an oddly normal thing to be thinking about right now. And now one person from that memory is dead.

Reaching the top of the stairs, I push the door open, exiting out into the dark hallway. It feels like the last time I was up here was a lifetime ago, though it can't have been more than a couple of hours. Working to keep my footsteps light and quiet, I navigate the main floor of the building, peering through classroom windows. In my state of shock in the basement, I heard noises from upstairs, the sounds of a distant altercation, but I have no idea where it may have taken place.

The sound of hurried footsteps reaches my ears, coming from some other hallway, and I quicken my pace, heading in the direction of my locker. Glancing around surreptitiously, I twist the dial of the lock, pulling the door open to examine the contents inside. As quietly as I can manage, I root through my pencil case, locating a pair of thin scissors, and tucking them into my palm, the edges sharp and cool against my skin. Closing the door again, I go in the direction the footsteps seemed like they were heading.

My heart beats steadily in my chest, the consistent, pounding rhythm a companion to my own footsteps as they echo on the linoleum. I can tell I'm getting close to whoever else is in the hallway, and vague anticipation begins to build in my throat, wondering who it will be. I assume it will be Dylan, or James, since casually bumping into Mason without seeing one of them first would be entirely too easy.

"Zoe?" a voice echoes through the hallway, interrupting my thoughts, and answering my question of who else is making their rounds. "Zoe! Shit, where are you?"

Then the footsteps come to a slow stop when the person they belong to catches sight of me.

Dylan.

It's a scene not unlike the one that played out hours before when they cornered me, only this time, I'm not the one who looks like a deer in the headlights. There's shock written all over his face, the colour draining from it rapidly, and his lips part, his eyes wide. We stand a short distance apart, and I keep the hand with the scissors pressed to my side, concealing them from view. A heavy silence weighs between us, as though he's truly speechless. I suppose he never thought he'd see me again.

I would think he would be happy to see the girl he claims to love so much still alive and well, but instead, he looks horror-struck.

"The gunshot," he murmurs, his voice breaking. "I thought you'd be..." Dead. Me too.

I don't say anything, blinking at him.

He swallows, lifting his hands up slowly, taking measured steps toward me. "Allie," he begins, overflowing with emotion. "Believe me when I say I never wanted this. All I wanted was you. Only you."

No response. He continues to close the gap between us.

"We can still have it," he pleads, a tear slipping down his cheek. "You and me. We can run away. We can escape this shithole, and never look back."

I allow my lips to curve up in a small smile. He takes it as an invitation, a sign that he's winning me over, and he melts in relief, nodding and giving me a weary smile. "See? We can get out of here, Allie. Just us. Like I've always wanted. We can put this behind us."

He's an arm's length away now, and I keep the smile on my face, reaching out to place my hand on his shoulder, his own smile still intact. And then my smile vanishes, morphing into a scowl, and I feel my eyes grow cold.

"Go to hell, Dylan."

Gripping onto his shoulder tightly, I lift my other hand, plunging the scissors into his right eye socket, and he collapses beneath me, pulling away. Who's eyes are wandering now? My teeth are bared, and I release him, watching him fall to his knees roughly as his screams of agony fill the air. The shears protrude from his eye, and his hands hover inches away from them helplessly, not knowing what to do. I stand in front of him, motionless, the anger fading from my bones, as if blinding him was what I needed to rid myself of it.

"How could you do that to me?" he wails, a mess of sobs and blood. "You bitch! Why the fuck did you do that?"

He continues his monologue, spluttering a string of painful expletives, and I observe for a few moments, before moving past him, my eyes scanning the dim hallway stretching out in front of me.

Dylan's weeping grows quieter the further I move away from him, until it's just background noise. Inwardly, I try to locate the human part of me, the part that cares that I just did that to another person, that I injured him most likely beyond repair. But I can't find it. In my opinion, he deserves far worse.

I'm about to turn the corner when a new voice stops me.

"Alina!"

Freezing, I turn to face it, feeling my heart clench painfully. Mason makes his way toward me from the far end of the hall, as fast as he can manage, limping slightly. His face is a mixture of pain and urgency, and it's streaked with blood. I hurry to meet him halfway, forgetting myself, forgetting everything that's just happened. Reaching him, I loop my arms around his neck, clutching him to me and screwing my eyes shut, feeling as though I'm teetering on the edge of insanity.

At least I'm feeling something.

I swallow the lump in my throat as he hugs me back just as tightly. I thought I would never see him again. He's murmuring something, hurried words pressed into my hair, but I can't make them out, my heart beating too loudly in my chest to hear anything beyond it. He pulls back a little, reaching up to take my face in his hands, his blue eyes wide as he scans over every detail, and a film of tears forms over my own eyes.

"Are you hurt at all?" he asks, his voice low and rushed. "Tell me what happened."

As if on cue, Dylan's cries pick up again, and Mason's eyes dart past me, following the sound. His face changes marginally, and he looks back at me with a solemn expression. He knows I did it. I see his eyes take in the various splatters of blood on my clothes and skin, but he doesn't let go of me. "Where's Zoe?"

"She's dead," I tell him tonelessly, and he works to keep his expression the same. "I didn't do it," I add, as an afterthought.

"Okay," he says, not questioning my words.

There's a pause. "James?" I ask.

He drops his eyes, looking away and swallowing. I understand the implication, noticing the blood on his own clothes and face again. Two down.

"I called 911," he announces, guiding me toward the exit with laboured footsteps, before holding up a set of keys. "And I found these." There's a hint of hope in his voice, thick with emotion and exhaustion. "We can get out of here. It's over. God, it's finally over."

Unlocking the door, we exit out into the damp night, a mix of blood, sweat, and tears, the cool air nearly knocking the wind out of me. I hear the sounds of blaring sirens in the distance, and then we're swept away in a flurry of activity, and shouts, and questions, and I'm blinking frantically, trying to see past the bright lights.

Through it all, Mason's grip on me remains steadfast, until we're forcefully separated, packed into ambulances and police cars.

It's over.

✘✘✘

The Pender Falls Police Station is a familiar place.

Not just because I was here a couple weeks ago, giving my statement after the last attack. Months back, I used to spend a lot of time here for various misdemeanors, usually with Zoe in tow.

I'd sit next to her, my arms folded, my lips curled in a smug smirk to match hers, knowing that between her father and my mother, they would be able to pull some strings to get us out of facing punishment for whatever we just did. It was a strange, addicting kind of power, and back then, I was always searching for power. Even though I despised the girl, at the best of times, we could put it all aside to be partners in crime, the world at our fingertips.

Now she's dead, and I'm back in the interrogation room, seated across from Officer Ramirez. His brown eyes are full of concern for my well-being, though he tries to mask it under a veil of professionalism. I burn a hole in his desk with my dull stare, avoiding his gaze.

I've repeated the events that transpired what must be a million times by now, my voice steady and monotonous. I can't tell whether he believes me or not when I say that I wasn't the one to kill Zoe; she pulled the trigger all on her own. But given my current mental state and our history, if he does think I killed her, I'm sure it'll be written off as self-defense. Same as what happened with Dylan, though that situation is a little murky. He wasn't presently trying to attack me, but that didn't make a difference to me at the time. It still doesn't. I wanted to hurt him, and I don't regret it.

Without Mason next to me to remind me there's still something I care about, I'm nothing, completely hollow. I feel as though I'm wandering through a dream, my mind nothing more than a foggy haze, my eyes glassy and unfocused. Despite my memories returning, my soul has been taken from me, as well as any remaining traces of sanity.

Ramirez picks up the phone on his desk, angling himself away from me slightly as he murmurs into the device about psych evaluations and therapy, but I can't find it in me to be bothered by the sentiment. I'm clearly fucked up, and I'm not fooling anybody. It would probably be better for me to get some sort of treatment to help me cope, and break me out of this nearly catatonic state. He hangs up the phone with a sigh, turning to face me again with steepled fingers.

     A weighted silence hangs in the room for several beats, before he nods reluctantly. "Alright," he says firmly, rising to his feet. "I can't allow you to go home just yet, but you can join your family out there."

Relief floods my limbs, and I push up from my chair, following him out of the door. I don't know how long it's been since we left the school, but I haven't been in contact with anyone but police and doctors until now. A lump forms in my throat as I step into the main area, my eyes welling with tears at the idea of this all truly being over, of being able to go home and feel safe again. Soon after exiting the interrogation room, I spot a familiar face, and I rush in that direction, enclosing the woman in a tight hug as I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Oh, Allie," she says, her voice breaking, and it's my undoing.

"Mom," I choke out, feeling as though I'll fall apart the second she lets go.

She stiffens at my use of the word, and I can feel the shock in her posture. Momentarily, she pulls back to look at me with wide eyes, tendrils of hair slipping from her bun, her face streaked with tears. "You called me Mom," she breathes, awe colouring her tone.

"I remember," is all I'm able to manage, and her face crumples in relief as she clutches me in another tight embrace that I return.

It's over.

I've never considered myself as being close to my mom, but I've also never realized how much I crave the comfort of her presence. She's strong, and brave, and I truly believe she can fix anything, and make bad things go away. Maybe she can make this go away, too.

"Allie!" a new voice sounds behind us, and I turn, pulling out of my mother's arms to see Audrey hurrying toward us, as though she's just arrived.

Moments later, I'm taken into another pair of arms as I hug my sister tightly, wrapped up in her familiar scent, of citrus and flowers. She speaks quickly, her voice panicked, expressing how grateful she is for my safety and well-being, and it strikes me again that it's over.

Zoe is dead. James is dead. Dylan, and Dr. Meyer are in custody.

My memory is back.

It's not exactly the ending I'd been envisioning, but it's an ending, nonetheless. After far too many weeks of living in the dark, I'm slowly stepping into the light, and it's blinding. Too blinding, almost.

The numb feeling begins to creep back into my bones after our emotional reunion comes to a close, and I barely register the words as Officer Ramirez finally gives us the go ahead to leave this suffocating building and go back home. Audrey loops her arm through mine, and Mom places her hand on my back, telling Ramirez to give her any updates as they usher me toward the exit. My eyebrows furrow as my feet stumble to keep up with them, and I feel like there's something important I'm still forgetting.

I come to halt, causing them to do the same, glancing at me with concern.

"What about Mason?" I ask, directing the question toward my mother, since I assume she'll have a better idea of what's going on.

"His family is coming to collect him," she tells me smoothly.

I look over my shoulder, craning my neck. "But where is he?"

"He may still be in questioning."

My eyebrows furrow. "Why?"

"Allie," she says, a hint of exasperation in her voice as she presses on my back, trying to urge me forward. "He'll be fine. His parents will be here soon, and then he'll be able to leave as well. Come along, you can speak with him later."

"We should wait for him," I persist, and Audrey gives me a look of sympathy, rubbing my arm.

Mom opens her mouth to protest again, but we're interrupted by a door opening across the room, and the boy himself exits, looking utterly exhausted, followed by an officer. Releasing myself from the grip of my family, I head in his direction, waiting for him to spot me. He's still in conversation with the officer he left the room with, and he doesn't glance my way for a few moments. When he does, the hard edge in his blue eyes softens, a hint of relief evident in his features.

"Mason," I say, by way of greeting, his name sounding strange coming from my mouth for some reason. His eyebrows furrow marginally. "How are you holding up?"

"I can't wait to get out of here," he tells me, speaking in a low murmur, giving a sidelong glance to the cop standing a few feet away. "What about you?"

Gesturing over my shoulder, toward the door, I reply, "They said I could go home. I was just leaving."

"Oh," he says, sounding a little disappointed. "You should get going, then. Get some rest."

"I wanted to see you," I offer.

He gives me a small smile that doesn't reach his eyes, placing a gentle hand on my arm. "I'll be alright," he assures me. "You should get out of here before they change their minds."

"Okay." I pause. "Call me when you get home."

"I will." He nods.

I walk back over to Mom and they guide me out of the door and into the parking lot, the night weighing heavily upon us, and I'm distracted from all thoughts of Mason.

It feels like a hand is pressed to my chest, making it hard to breathe, a cloud of death and destruction still hanging around me, scarred by all the things I've witnessed, the things I've gone through. I don't know how I'm expected to go on, to live life normally after all of this. Everything that I thought I knew about myself was ripped away from me, and then given back in tattered shreds, and I'm unsure of how to fit it all together again.

But still, it's over.