Mom sits across from me, nursing a cup of peppermint mocha tea. It sounds like a weird combination for a watery tea, but every time the seasonal beverage comes out, she swears it's delicious. Perhaps one day I'll try it. For now, my hands are wrapped around a paper cup of cinnamon caramel swirl decaf coffee. I bring the rim to my lips, crunching on the cinnamon sugar in the layer of cream at the top.

"I'm so sorry," Mom says, her voice breaking. "Madelyn, I never, ever meant to hurt you. I only wanted to protect you."

"I know." I take another sip. Hot coffee breaks through the layer of airy cream at the top, scorching my tongue. I set the cup down quickly, allowing sensation to return to my taste buds before saying, "I see that now. It's just that I've spent so many years running from the villain, fearing that I would become one. And then you..." Our voices are already hushed, so my voice drops to barely audible. "Mom, you sent an innocent woman to prison."

Mom's hand clutches her forehead. "I still can't forgive myself for doing that. I should've figured out another way, but I didn't want to drag you into the investigation. And then Mrs. Barnes promised to pay your tuition, which offered so much hope." Mom shakes her head. "I only wish there had been time to figure out a third option."

"It was pretty rash."

"Mrs. Barnes insisted that the body had to be hidden that night. Since we were neighbors with the Keiger, I knew about Lori's job, her habits. I knew there was no surveillance on part of the old oak bridge." Mom's coffee sloshes against the sides as she raises it to her lips. "Honestly, Madelyn, what I did keeps me up at night."

I hadn't considered the panic and guilt Mom feels on a daily basis. After all, she committed a crime by covering one up. She could go to prison herself.

"I just wish I could make things right," Mom says.

"This is why you didn't want to speak at the conference," I say, more talking to myself than her. "Too many bad memories being dredged up.

"Yes. And the fear that, I don't know... someone could discover what I did."

The brown-sugar and spice-sweetened coffee fills my mouth again. "Perhaps there is a way to make things right."

Mom's cup freezes on her lips. She quickly sets it down. "Madelyn, as much as I want Lori to get out of prison, I fear that... I fear what that would entail." Her eyes stare at the ripples in her tea, seeming to match the shimmering quality of the chocolatey beverage.

"Mom, you have to get her out of prison. It's the only way to ease your conscience, and maybe Lori's, too."

"But how? You would lose everything — your last remaining parent, the house, the blackmail money might be taken, too. You would have nothing to live on, and wouldn't be able to complete your education at Eralyn."

I swallow. I hadn't considered all those ramifications. Mom is right that a decision like this can't be made lightly, though I suspect the truth is worth it.

"Couldn't you just pull out the case for another conference and speak on how after reexamining it, the evidence looks botched?"

Mom's brow wrinkles, her face distressed. "If the investigation were reopened, then there would have to be an explanation for how the body ended up in the river. That points to me. Much of the DNA evidence for the case would be null and void because those pieces were already disposed of. Starting from square one would be difficult at best and impossible at worst."

I sip my coffee, considering her words. Would it really be so bad for things to continue the way they are?

Deep down, I know the answer is yes. Lori must be freed, even at the expense of Mom's freedom, even at the expense of my comfort, my education — my life.

I just have to figure out how to convince Mom.

A ringing sound breaks the silence between us, chiming over the pop music grooving overhead. Mom pulls her phone from her purse. "Hello? Yes, this is Mrs. Filmore. Come down to the station now? You have some questions for me?" Her worried eyes lock with mine.

Realization dawns. Mom, Amber, Mrs. Barnes, and I aren't the only people who know about what Mom did. Whether Mom likes it or not, we have to confront the mistakes of her past, this ghost of a murder case that has haunted us both for years.

Mom hangs up the phone. "The police said they want to talk to me. It's something relating to Brooklyn and Brian."

"Mom," I say, staring her straight in the eye. "They know." Brooklyn and Brian probably told the police all about Mom's involvement in covering up The Barnes' murderous act.

Her chest rises and falls with resignation. "Of course." She taps her near-empty cup on the table. "So what do we do?"

Summoning my courage, I say, "we tell the truth."

"No matter the consequence? No matter the fact that I have a child to provide for?" Tears well in Mom's eyes, and I have to wonder if it's because she's more scared for my future or her own.

"I'll be an adult in a few years," I say, mustering as much bravery as I can manage. "And public school won't be so bad. At least I got a year and a half at Eralyn."

After a moment, Mom nods. "Alright. If you understand what this means, then I'll go through with it."

It's not like we have a choice. It was already made for us that night when Mom chose to aid the Barnes.

"We can go there now if you like," I say. She supported me in all my trips down there. Now I will do the same.

It's time for justice to finally show its face.

***

The next weeks pass by in a blur. Mom tells the police about her involvement in covering up the murder. She faces a trial, and although her potential sentence is heavy, it isn't as bad as the one Mrs. Barnes faces.

I try not to read the news, which is covering Brooklyn and Brian's trial. But one day, a news story pops up on my phone: The Twin Serial Killers: What Really Happened at Eralyn Academy

Aside from their motive — revenge on my mom and Mrs. Barnes — the article outlines how Brooklyn and Brian turned from fun-loving children to cold-blooded serial killers. After her father's murder and her mother's conviction, Brooklyn started investigating on her own. As she read news stories and press releases, she realized that many "facts" about the case were wrong. She spent several years collecting her own portfolio of knowledge, honing her hacking skills to get into her father's emails, then later hacking into the HappyMood Pharmaceutical Company private server and even Mrs. Barnes' bank account, where she followed a trail of missing funds straight to the mystery checks Mom was receiving in the mail. Brooklyn and Brian lost any faith in justice being served by that point and decided to take revenge into their own hands.

Brian admitted that they had already had a revenge plan in the works, though he refused to share the details of it. He admitted to seeing me entering the counseling center one day, and Brooklyn decided to hack into the records subsequently to find out why I was there. So they already knew about my anxiety and had been trying to figure out a way to use it for their advantage. However, what pushed them in a new direction and into action was the dating app. Gossip spreads fast around school, especially with Graysen texting everyone about me being the latest to be dared into using the dating app. After Brooklyn found out that I had the dating app, they decided this was the perfect moment to plot and execute their revenge.

Brooklyn, being the tech wizz she is, figured out how to hack into the app and program a line of code that would match me with Brian. Brian snuck onto Evan's phone to find his account number while Brooklyn did the same to mine during class. Though she tried to hide it from surveillance cameras, there are a few moments that were caught on video since she grabbed my phone a lot during class to carry out their plans. For Brian's part, he was responsible for daring all three of their victims to download the dating app to begin with.

The day Evan died, Brooklyn was waiting in the wings of the stage. The moment he stepped on it, she walked out, pretending to be his date. She handed him a drink she had brought for the occasion, which was laced with a sedative that knocked him out instantly, giving her enough time to tie the noose around his neck, string him up from the ceiling, and leave before I arrived. I will never know who I sensed that day in the auditorium. It was either Brooklyn leaving or Evan dying, his spirit passing from this world to the next. Brian had an alibi through work for that one, and Brooklyn logged into a video game on her phone and played that in order to create some sort of alibi.

Brian committed the next murder on Saturday. He and Will agreed to hang out at the arboretum that day (though apparently, Will was a bit perplexed by the location), and Brian brought coffee with him for them both. Will's was laced with poison, and once he died, Brian dumped the body near me, just close enough that I'd sense Will dying.

The cash was taken from both the murderers to frame me later on. Brian knew who carried cash around typically because he worked at the coffee shop. He also knew about Evan's anxiety and my connection to pharmaceutical drugs, and decided to plant that on me when Isaac was murdered to make it seem like I was murdering people to get money to pay for illicit substances to calm my anxiety.

When Isaac was murdered, Brian got off work early in the day to go to the buffet in disguise, where he hid in the bathroom trash can. Before that, Brooklyn stole Isaac's phone and sent the texts about buying drinks to me with the hopes that they could delay Isaac at school and also ensure that I entered the restroom first, before Isaac arrived. It was just a bonus that I forgot my purse in there, helping with planting the evidence on me and making me even more panicked because I went in directly before Isaac.

Brian got out of the trash can when Isaac entered, struck his neck to knock him out, put the electrical device in the sink, then forced his hands under the running water. Brian then climbed back inside the trash can and waited there. Brooklyn set up a gateway to the surveillance footage in the restaurant, where he watched until everyone's back was turned to the door. Then, he managed to slip outside the bathroom and sneak out a back door when no one was watching, and before the police arrived.

Both acknowledge that their plans got a little more outlandish, a little risky, a little more sloppy, as time went on. They were trying to stick to a theme, one of common fears people have — stage fright, poisonous animals, lightening — a small hint that they were trying to mess with my head since I have anxiety, too. Their sentence, if convicted, will be the heaviest of all.

My fingers lace through the grooves of the bench I sit on while my other hand shuts my phone off. I need to stop opening up every news story that pops up, especially at inopportune times. Now the facts of the murder trials swirl in my head, along with a host of other thoughts and emotions that are trapped. I wish there was a way to get them out, but since I no longer have appointments with Amber, they just stay stuck in there.

At first, I ignored all the buzz of the murder trial. I couldn't bring myself to break the protective bubble my mom and I had built for so many years. Then I remembered the challenge Amber gave me at the very start of the semester.

It feels like an eternity has gone by since then.

But I've been taking her advice, been facing my fears. I've read about the case, and now that I've started, it's impossible to stop. It's horrific, traumatic, yet I can't peel my eyes away from the news.

I take a deep breath that fills my belly. I feel my lungs expand with air, then slowly release it all, feeling myself deflate. This is my reality check, the air, the breath, the expansion and exhale. This is my way of releasing the negativity instead of internalizing it.

Anyone could be a murderer, a psychopath, your worst enemy bent on revenge.

If it could be anyone, it could also be me. I could be that murderer, that psychopath, that revenge-seeking enemy.

A breath in. A breath out.

A release of the negativity. A release of the hold anxiety has kept on me all these years.

It could be anyone. But it is not me. This is not me. I am not a murderer. I do not mean to harm anyone. Even if I don't know other people's intentions and motives, I know my own. I sit with my own thoughts every day, and they do not revolve around harming others.

It will take a long time, but I hope someday this thought process will be second nature, that I won't have to question and analyze every thought that crosses my brain.

"Oh, come on!" Zoe exclaims. "It's not even that scary!"

I snap back to reality. My gaze lifts from the floor of the movie theater to Zoe and Priya, standing a few paces away from the ticket counter.

Priya shakes her head. "No way. We are not watching a horror movie."

"But don't you want to get into the holiday spirit?" Zoe is a cross between Thanksgiving and Christmas, sporting a t-shirt with a slice of pumpkin pie printed in a large square (she made it herself) over red leggings with thin candy-cane stripes creating a checkered pattern amidst reindeer antlers.

"First of all, it's a week before Thanksgiving," Priya says. "Second of all, how on earth is a ski lodge isolation serial killer supposed to be remotely close to the Christmas spirit?"

Autumn returns from the popcorn stands, cradling two extra large containers. The smell makes my stomach rumble. It also fills me with a nostalgic sadness. Mom used to always make the popcorn for our movie nights at home.

"Have we picked a movie yet?" Autumn asks.

"I want to see Dark Wishes," Priya says. "But Zoe..."

"Return of the Snow Killer just came out!" Zoe exclaims.

"A sequel?" Autumn wrinkles her nose. "We haven't even seen the first one."

"So?"

"Sorry, no can do." Autumn pops a piece of yellowed popcorn in her mouth. "I will be watching the first one before I even consider the second one."

"Fine," Zoe sighs. "Dark Wishes it is."

"Oh come on," Priya says. "Dark fantasy is close enough to horror."

Autumn's eyes shift to me. "Madelyn, is Dark Wishes good?"

I can't believe I ever considered Autumn as the murderer. Behind all her no-nonsenseness, I can now see that she has a good heart, if she is a bit sarcastic at times.

All eyes fall on me. The light in Zoe's eyes fades into concern. "Oh, Madelyn, I'm so sorry. I wasn't even thinking about what move would be best for you." She bites her lower lip. "Would something lighter be better?"

I glance between my friends. Despite all the horrible stuff of the past few weeks, they've been lights that alleviate the impending darkness. A resigned smile crosses my lips.

"No, Dark Wishes will be fine."

A Cinderella retelling can't be that bad. What's more important is that I'm spending time with my friends. I need their support now that the two pillars I had, my mom and Amber, have crumbled.

Besides, I feel like challenging myself a little more today. Dark fantasy is a whole lot easier to stomach than straight up horror. Maybe sometime I will be able to stomach crime and thriller, but even if I can't, I hope to be able to live with myself knowing that I am not like those evil villains, no matter how dark human nature can get.

We buy our tickets and file into the movie theater. I sit between Zoe and Autumn, pushing down the folding seat and stealing popcorn from both of their popcorn containers. Priya bought herself her own popcorn that's vegan.

The black movie screen brightens with color. I lean back in the chair, and for the first time in a very, very long time, the anxiety prickling my brain dies down to a mere static. In fact, some might even say that the anxious white noise cut out entirely.

A couple hours reprieve would be a win for today. A year from now, I hope that static is barely a point on a chart, if it were to be graphed. I hope it's unrecognizable.

I visualize that for a moment, staring at the ads flashing by: a world in which I trust myself, in which I can find trust within the world, even if it is unsure and imperfect.

I visualize that life where anxiety's chains are broken, and I am finally free.