"Do you ever get that feeling that you can't shift the tide that sticks around like something's in your teeth?" - Arctic Monkeys, Do I Wanna Know?

I paced around my living room, Griffin's keys held tightly in one hand, the other swinging nervously by my side.

I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know what exactly it was. And that worried me beyond belief. I couldn't imagine why Griffin would ask me to take Grant's car back to our apartment complex and volunteer them to take the bus. I couldn't understand why Grant was screaming at the cemetery, or why Griffin suddenly seemed to take the situation a whole lot more seriously after that event.

It was giving me a headache, thinking about it all. I couldn't piece any of it together, which only worked to fuel my frustration and confusion. I wanted Griffin to call and explain what was happening, but I knew he wouldn't. Knowing Griffin, he wouldn't tell me for days, weeks even, and would probably wound up avoiding me, too.

I was worried about Grant, too. Even though I hadn't known him too long - a few months - I still cared about him. He was genuinely a nice guy who made it obvious that he cared for me, and I hated that he was clearly in distress. I hated that I called Griffin schizophrenic and the affect it had on Grant.

I groaned loudly and tossed Griffin's keys on my table, instead choosing to pull out my phone. My eyebrows rose in surprise when I saw a message, only to fall when I saw it was Cara. I sighed and took a deep breath, deciding that I needed to talk to someone whose last name didn't end in Cutkosky.

I dialed Cara's number quickly and dropped down onto the couch, only to stand back up. My nerves were fried, and I couldn't calm myself down enough to simply just sit. I ran my fingers through my knotty hair and walked into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge, riffling through the contents, and shutting it when I didn't find anything I wanted.

"Hey!" Cara shouted, the background noise of wherever she was drowning out her voice. I could hear music and turned the volume up on my phone, "What's up? Wait, gimme a second."

I waited a few seconds until Cara said "okay" and the background noise ended abruptly. I gave her a minute (I figured she was at the bar or something) and went back into the living room, tracing my fingers absentmindedly over the pictures hung on the wall. Cara said okay again and I took another deep breath.

"I have to tell you something," I started, having no clue how else to start this story. Hell, I didn't even understand what was happening, so I didn't know how I expected to explain it to Cara, "This probably isn't going to make sense, but..."

I explained everything to my best friend as good as I could, trying not to leave out any details. I explained the situation from the day before where I called Griffin schizophrenic, and how angry Grant got at the comment. I told her how the conversation at Dunkin' had gone from peaceful to Grant snapping in seconds.

I told her everything, probably adding unnecessary details, but I wasn't about to leave anything out. I told her how worried I was and how strange it was that Griffin had me drive Grant's car home. I said everything until I was out of breath and sure that I had said much more than I needed to.

And then Cara surprised me with her answer.

"Are you okay?"

I paused, because I definitely hadn't thought about that, "I mean, I guess? I'm just all shaken up, I think. I feel bad for what I did to Griffin." 

"Yeah, well, you should. But that isn't what's important right now," Cara continued, and I heard her let out a couple of deep breaths from her side of the phone, "Do you want me to come up there? Anything I can do? This just seems like way too much to handle."

As much good as it would probably do for me to have someone with me, I didn't exactly want company. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts - to process them and run over a hundred possible scenarios - and I couldn't possibly do that with someone else here. Plus I knew Cara wouldn't let me dwell on this, even thought that was exactly what I wanted to do. 

"I think I'll be okay," I told her, making my voice as strong and steady as I possibly could, "I just want to order some food and relax."

Cara let out another deep breath, but this one was definitely of relief, "Okay. If you need anything, call me!" she said, and I just nodded silently, ready to end the phone call ,"Be safe."

Cara ended the call and again I was left alone with my thoughts.

I couldn't believe that I was in this situation. For months I had been involved with Griffin, and now I was stuck in a situation that I didn't understand, wondering if both Cutkosky brothers would be okay. It was weird to think how this had started; to think how far it had come. If I wouldn't have helped Griffin that night when he was having a breakdown and couldn't get into his apartment, then I wouldn't be in this situation.

But then again, if I got a redo for that night, I wouldn't change anything. Griffin changed my world, and for better or worse I was still finding out, but it didn't matter. I wanted Griffin in my life, because he showed me things I never thought about before. He had pulled me into his world, but also showed me pieces of himself that I was sure he never showed anyone else before.

For better or worse, Griffin Cutkosky had changed my world and there was nothing I could do about it now.

I stood up again and made my way into the kitchen, grabbing an abandoned cup of coffee from that morning and popping it into the microwave. I heard my phone vibrating on the table, but I didn't make a move for it. It was probably Cara butt-dialing me, and I could live without hearing an accidental conversation from her end.

The microwave dinged and my phone started ringing again. I grabbed my mug from the microwave and wrinkled my nose at the still-cold coffee, but shrugged and made my way back over to the table. I grabbed my phone off the table and accepted the call, taking a sip from my mug.

"Emmy?" Griffin's voice came from the other side of the receiver and I let out a choked noise from the coffee in my throat, "Are you all right?"

I swallowed down the coffee, cheeks flushed red, "I should be asking you that."

"I need you to do me a favor," Griffin said, completely ignoring what I said. His voice was rushed yet quiet, words tumbling together through his hushed tone, "Okay? I need you to go into my apartment - it's unlocked, if not, you have the key. Go to my room, into the closet, and pull out the cardboard boxes in the back. There will be one marked case files - my mom's old case files. I need you to pull them out, okay? This is extremely important."

I grabbed Griffin's keys off the table and opened my door, pausing before stepping out, "You shouldn't have your mom's case files. That's, like, breaking patient confidentiality."

"Are you fucking with me?" Griffin asked, voice rises before dropping again, a few curses leaving his mouth. I shut the door behind me and walked over to Griffin's apartment, "Emmy, please. Please. If this wasn't serious, I wouldn't be talking to you. Jesus, I'll burn the fucking files after this if it makes you happy. Just please."

I didn't respond. Instead I just unlocked Griffin's door and slammed it shut behind me, which I was sure he heard considering the quiet "thank you" he let out from the other end. I tossed his keys on the table and flicked on the light, blinking at how clean the living room was opposed to how messy it typically was. I rolled my shoulders and walked into the hallway, pushing open the first door.

The room was clearly Griffin's, and I stopped, looking it over. It looked like a hurricane had gone through his room - clothes were thrown everywhere, things were knocked off his shelves, his bed was bare, blankets on the floor, and papers and other things I couldn't even identify littered the floor. But I quickly found the closet and made my way over.

I pulled open the closet door and bent down, quickly growing annoyed at how messy his closet was. I threw Griffin's clothes behind me, and gently set down heavier things, like trophies, a baseball bat, and a battered looking menorah. I sighed and bent further in, seeing two cardboard boxes.

Case files was written in black Sharpie on one, so I grabbed it and pulled it out, setting it in front of me. I cleared the space around me and took a deep breath, guilt pricking at my heart. This was people's files and it felt wrong that I was about to invade that privacy.

"Okay," I said, running my fingers over the top of the box, flicking dust off of it, "What now?"

"You got it?" Griffin asked, and I let out a noise of confirmation, "Thank you. The files are marked with a last name and date on top, so you won't have to look at anyone's actual information, I promise you that. I need you to look at files marked with the week of my mom's murder."

Griffin gave me the exact dates to look for, and I tore the cardboard box open quickly, the urgency in Griffin's voice making me feel a sense of urgency. The files were standing neatly in the box and I flicked through them, trying to avoid looking at the last names. I kept repeating the dates Griffin told me, but as I flicked through the case files, each one going further back than the last, I realized it was pointless. 

"There aren't any," I told him, flicking through again, skimming over the dates. The closest one was from three weeks prior, "There was ones from about a month before the murder, but nothing the week of. Is this bad?"

Griffin growled in annoyance, "No, don't worry about it - "

"Griffin - "

"Relax," he said, cutting me out. Griffin's voice was surprisingly soothing, even when it was filled with evident panic that he fought to conceal, "You're doing amazing, Emmy. I'm so goddamn in-debt to you. I need you to do one more thing for me, okay? Are you okay?"

I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed, wishing Griffin would just tell me why he was having me do this. Part of me wanted to ask him that, but another part of me was too nervous to do so. He sounded so panicky and rushed on his side of the phone that I found myself not able to do anything but listen to what he said. I was too nervous to ask the whys. 

"What do you need me to do?"

"You're amazing," Griffin told me, but his voice had taken on an incredibly panicked tone. He didn't just sound nervous - he sounded full-blown scared, "I need you to look under C's, okay? List me off all the C last names you find."

My fingers moved slowly, less inclined to do this part for him. I was breaking a serious rule here: patient confidentiality. I wasn't reading the files, but I was still looking at them, and it made me feel horrible. I wanted to be a psychologist, and yet here I was, sitting in the dark and looking through someone's files.

"These aren't in order," I said, when the first name I saw was a Z, "Wait, hold on. There's Curvokic." I paused and flipped through a few more files, "Castillo, Cline... Cain. That's it. I don't see any more C's."

"Shit," Griffin responded, and I played with the sides of the cardboard box, waiting to hear what he would say, "Thank you so much for this, but I need you to do exactly what I say now. Put the box back exactly where you found it, lock my apartment up, and go home. I'm coming home tonight, but I need you to stay in your apartment."

I reluctantly did what Griffin asked, but I couldn't stop my heart from racing as I stuffed the box back in his closet. Griffin's words sent a chill through me, and this time, I wasn't going to keep my questions to myself. He couldn't ask me to look for case files and then tell me not to leave my apartment without an explanation. It didn't work that way, not when his words were so chilling.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked, flicking off the lights and grabbing Griffin's keys from the table. I stepped out and locked the door behind me, "You can't just tell me to go into my apartment and not come out without an explanation, Griffin. I deserve to know."

"No," Griffin replied quietly, "you deserve to not know."

I stopped outside my apartment, his words making me freeze in my tracks. His voice sounded so genuine, so honest that I truly wanted to believe what he said and be satisfied with that answer. But I wasn't. And I wouldn't be. He didn't get to make me go through all of this and tell me I deserved to not know what was happening.

"Griffin - "

"Trust me, Emmy. Just please, trust me."

this chapter honestly wrote itself and i'm happy with it! the story is coming to a close (probably five more chapters lol, more than I thought!), so expect everything to basically hit the fan. this is the last peaceful chapter for awhile :)

remember to let me know your thoughts! thanks guys!