WHEN IT RAINED, IT POURED. I never quite understood why it rained when someone was in agony. It did not care about the situation you were in. Rain only cared about watering the plants below and soaking you as much as possible, even if you were too lazy to move. In this case, I was in too much pain to move. My body was still in shock; therefore, it kept me from moving even if I wanted to. The rain had soaked me from head to toe and, sadly, my suitcase was not waterproof. It laid on the grass beside me as I moved back and forth on the swing slowly. My hair was stuck to my forehead, neck, and shoulders. I was certain I looked a hot mess but I did not care. I was hurting.

I brought the bottle of Harry's tequila up to my lips and closed my eyes as I swallowed. After I had packed everything I could, I took the bottle from the kitchen and left. It was probably wrong of me to just take it but I was currently following my heart, not my brain, and my heart wanted alcohol. He just had it sitting in the cabinet, untouched and alone. It was almost as if the angels from up above were singing to me when I grabbed it and left the house with it. Taking it was most definitely worth it, though.

I wanted to forget for a little while.

Was that too much to ask for?

Probably.

Was it selfish?

Of course.

Did I care?

Only a little.

I lifted my legs a bit to prevent my feet from hitting the ground and took another swig. My heart was slowly breaking into a million pieces and I wanted it to stop. I was only trying to comfort him. How could he push me away like he did? How could he blame me for her death? I laughed and laughing soon enough turned into crying. He knew nothing about me. There was no way he knew why I was here. I had been here for months and nothing bad had happened.

If they were here, I would have known before now.

They never targeted someone without giving me some kind of warning. Even if they were here, why would they go after Jillian? It made zero sense. It would have made more sense to go after Harry, since we were close.

Key word?

Were.

Jillian would have been a pointless target. I knew them well enough to know they did not do this to her. Alexander loved to make his appearance well known. He often left me messages in places where I usually worked or lived. He enjoyed drawing creepy smiley faces on them and every time I saw one, I imagined him laughing somewhere off in the distance. Tyler was very handy with a knife. He, like Alexander, liked to make his presence known. He left knives as messages. All of his knives had golden handles and his initials were perfectly carved into them. He was a carver and he enjoyed carving his victims, like they were pumpkins getting ready for a Halloween night. He never used the same knife twice, saying something about the blood ruining the precious gold. And Dylan, well, he never left me any kind of sign that he was near. He just pulled out his gun and fired. I guessed that was my warning but it was not a very good one. He was the one firing the gun the night Elijah died.

He was the one who killed the man I once loved.

Now, how did I know all of this?

I used to be one of them. I knew every trick in the book when it came down to those three. We worked together, killed the people we were told to kill, and got paid for it. We were family. If Elijah and I wanted to live the life we wanted, we thought that was our ticket to freedom. Unfortunately, we had no idea that once we were involved, there was no way out. We tried turning everyone in to the police but that backfired almost immediately. The people we worked for were powerful and the police were gullible. They tried to arrest us on the spot but we were not going to let that happen. We tried running but it resulted in one of us dying.

However, if they did not kill Jillian, who did? She seemed like a very nice woman. Who would want to kill her? I moved the liquid around in the bottle and tugged my bottom lip between my teeth. I knew it was wrong for me to think this way but I was glad Harry was not the one who was dead. I felt horrible knowing Jillian was gone but what if it was Harry? I closed my eyes for a brief moment and shook my head. It was obvious I would not be seeing him anytime soon and it was obvious he did not want to see me. Death was tragic. It never brought anything good. Even if the person was murdered, only the murderer would be happy. The family and friends of the victim? Such a tragedy.

I forced my feet down on the ground and I stopped swinging. My car was the only one in the parking lot of the playground and it was going to stay there for a while. I was not going to drive with alcohol in my system, as tempting as it was. I needed to find somewhere to go before I caught a sickness. I still did not feel like moving, though. Every time I did, I remembered how much Harry hated me and my body shut down again, not allowing me to leave the swing. I screwed the top back onto the bottle and pushed myself to stand up. The world around me spun a little and I grabbed onto the pole of the swing set, taking deep breaths and giving the world time to slow down. I bent over to pick up my suitcase and purse before I started making my way to the sidewalk.

Each step I took informed me that I was never going to back to Harry's house. It was not our home anymore. It was his again and there was not a single thing I could do about it. I sounded like a crazy, clingy woman when I was actually neither. The house had always been Harry's. Why did I think he was going to let me stay? He thought I was the reason for Jillian's death. I was not because the signs were not there. The signs were always there. Besides, Harry had a rifle. Jillian should have been the one with the rifle. Did she put up a fight? I hoped she did. It was Olivia who told me Jillian was killed. The entire time I was at the hospital, I thought it was suicide. I was so wrong.

The rain continued to pour and I continued to sulk. There was a small store on the side of the road and I took the opportunity to hurry inside. A bell jingled once I opened the door and I noticed there was no one behind the counter. I pulled my suitcase into the store and walked to the back without a single problem. The wheels on the suitcase squeaked against the tiled floor but no one paid much attention to it. I sat down in one of the corners and unscrewed the top of the alcohol, taking a couple sips as tears fell out of my eyes. I wiped them away with my arm and spilled some of the tequila on the floor. I frowned and leaned my head back against the wall.

"Ma'am?"

I took some more sips.

"You're not allowed to have that in here. The, um, the suitcase isn't allowed, either."

I looked at the woman in front of me and rolled my eyes. She had her hands on her hips and she looked concerned for both me and her job. Her red hair was pinned up in a ponytail and her blue eyes looked me up and down. I raised my eyebrows as I continued to look at her hair. It was a nice color and I liked it very much. I sat the bottle to the side and rested my head against my suitcase.

"Hair dye," I said. "Do you have any of it?"

She looked confused, "Yes. It's on aisle, um, three with the rest of our hair products. I'm just going to take this from you now, okay?" When she reached for the bottle, I panicked. I grabbed it before she could and screwed the top back on it. I then unzipped my suitcase and put it in there for me to drink later. I outstretched my hand in the direction of the woman and she looked even more bothered by my presence. I thought she was going to leave me sitting here but she grabbed my hand, pulling me off the floor. "You should go home and sober up."

I laughed and when our faces were centimeters apart, I asked, "What home?"

I then grabbed my suitcase and purse, making my way to aisle three. It did not take me long to find the hair dye and I looked at all the different reds. The color looked really nice on her. She had blue eyes just like me. Red hair and blue eyes were going to look pretty on me just like it did on her. I grabbed a box of dark red hair dye and went to the cash register. The same woman stood behind it and she frowned when she saw me. I looked at the color on the box and the color of her hair.

Eh.

Close enough.

I fished in my wallet for some cash when she told me my total and I waved my hand at her, telling her to keep the change. She handed me my bag and I continued on my way. I had no idea where I was going and I honestly did not care. I had screwed things up. Harry was right. Jillian was dead because of me. If we did not go to the beach, Harry would have had his phone. He would have answered the phone calls. She would still be alive and everything would have been fine. She would have been heartbroken but alive.

It was still raining when I made it outside and this made my mood even darker. I walked slowly down the sidewalk and kept my eye out for any motels. I knew I would not be able to afford a hotel room but a motel room was cheaper. I could afford that for a couple nights and then I would have to find somewhere to stay permanently. But where? I groaned and wished I was still holding that bottle of tequila. Being an adult meant responsibility and I did not have that. If I did, I would not have put myself in this mess. Being a child was so much easier and I wished I could go back into time and relive those good times.

Was I happy? There was a time when I was. Now, I was a human who was just simply trying to find her way. It was hard knowing things had changed so sudden. I was not good with change but I had to get better. My life was always changing. This hurt more than losing Elijah. It was one thing to lose someone who had passed. It was another to lose someone who was alive and well.

How did one plan a funeral for someone who was still breathing?

In the back of my mind, Harry was dead to me. Metaphorically, of course. He wanted me to leave and I was doing exactly that. I was probably dead to him as well. Was this what it felt like to fall out of love? My chest was aching, the tears fell on their own, I felt numb emotionally, and I was suddenly wanting more alcohol when I did not drink often. Neither one of us expected anyone to get hurt or to die, for that matter. Jillian had family and I wondered how they would react when they received the bad news. I really hoped they would not find out how she died. I knew they were but I hoped whoever told did not go into great detail. Even if the family claimed they wanted to know, deep down, they did not.

Harry had lost his parents when he was younger and now she was gone. I wanted to be there for him and comfort him even though it was not going to happen. I sometimes thought of myself as a walking disease. Everyone around me got infected and soon enough distanced themselves from me. Sure, I had to distance myself from my family to prevent them from catching my disease. Harry caught it the moment Jillian died. It was as if his hatred for me from earlier never disappeared...as if he always hated me but kept it a secret.

What was he going to do once he realized I left? I did not leave behind any messages or signs as to where I was going. I simply packed my suitcase, left the ring I bought him by his bed, grabbed the bottle of tequila, and left. It was not much of a dramatic exit and I was thankful. I could not imagine leaving while he was at the house. Would he delete the voicemail we set up together? Was he going to throw out all the foods I preferred to eat? I did not once think about grabbing the food that was specifically for me. My mind was not exactly present as I threw things into my suitcase. I was on my own.

"How much for a single room?" I remembered asking once I had finally found a motel that looked cheap enough.

"$35.99 a night," the man said and I nodded my head, giving him my credit card rather than cash. I only had a few dollar bills left. Everything else was on my card. "Just one night, then?"

"I...I don't know. Am I allowed to come back tomorrow and pay again if I decide to stay?"

He smiled, "Of course." I took my credit card back from him and he handed me a room key. I quietly thanked him and turned to leave. "Ma'am?"

I froze and cleared my throat, "Y-Yes?"

"We have a washer and dryer...you know...for your clothes."

I nodded my head, realizing he was referring to the wet clothes I was wearing and my soaking wet suitcase. When he did not say anything else, I kept walking. I stepped out of the little office and made my way to the room. I was on the second floor and as I walked to the stairs, more rain soaked my clothing. I struggled to get the key in the door and it took a couple tries to get it open. The door was heavier than it looked and I pulled my suitcase inside, feeling on the walls for the light switch. Once I found it, I dropped my purse and bag from the store on the bed, leaving my suitcase by the door.

The room was not much but I did not expect it to be. There was only a queen sized bed, a small nightstand, a lamp, and a television. Green and blue checkered curtains covered the single window and there was a door that was closed. I assumed it was the bathroom and I grabbed the hair dye before going into it. A hair dryer was connected to the wall and I got to work quickly. I started drying my hair and I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I did not look very friendly but that was all right. I was not in a very friendly mood. Looking at myself in the mirror, I was seeing who I truly was.

A woman who did not have any morals or respect for other people's relationships.

A woman who, rather than waiting and talking things out, preferred to run off and never look back.

A woman who was blamed for someone else's doing.

A woman who was tired of being called a name that was not truly hers.

I ran my fingers through my hair and smiled when it was dry enough to work with the hair dye. I read the directions carefully and did as it said. I mixed the dye and ignored the fact that my eyes were starting to water. I was beginning to like it here in Seattle. I never thought my life could be in such a good place. I had even thought about sticking around longer than intended. Now? Things were ruined and the forest fire had began. It was out of control and no amount of water was going to put it out. I let out a mirthless laugh as I realized it was actually over. The love I thought actually existed between Harry and I was over. My hands dropped to my sides and I let it out. I was alone and no one was around to judge me.

My body shook as I sobbed and my vision became blurry. The pain was excruciating and I wanted it to stop. A hand went to my chest and I cried out as my knees gave way, causing me to collapse onto the floor. My lips trembled and I wrapped my arms around myself as I cried. I did not sign up for this. I never signed up for falling in love with Harry. I never signed up for secretly being with him while he was still with Jillian, not knowing she was going to die. I never signed up for any of this! Not knowing what was ahead of the line did not suit well with me. I wished I was able to see the future and know where I stood in this world. Did I have a place? Did I even stand a chance?

I wiped my eyes and stood up, taking deep breaths and trying to calm myself down. I went back to mixing the hair dye and I ignored the fresh tears that fell. The entire time, the same words kept repeating over and over inside of my head.

Someone new.

Someone new.

Someone new.

I looked at my reflection one more time and smiled.

Just like Gwen, Sydney was leaving my life for good and someone new was going to take her place.