WHILE SYDNEY IS AT MY SIDE as we cross the driveway of my old home, I am more nervous than I should be. After all, I'm not on my way to a trial, no, I'm on my way to see my parents.

Alice and Richard Avens should be home, I think because their car is in the driveway and parked crooked. Dad usually parks crooked when they argue while driving and then he doesn't have the nerve to park the car straight.

Sydney reaches for my hand encouragingly as we climb the few steps to the front door. Meanwhile, I take a deep breath and prepare my words for today to throw at Mom and Dad. 

I have a lot to say, even if I'm not sure I'll actually say most of them. Mom and Dad aren't really in a good mood anyway, I can already hear that in their loud, argumentative voices. 

"If you'd just listen to me for once, you'd know what I said earlier concerning Dean, Alice!" it echoes from the house just as I'm about to ring the doorbell. 

Something crashes to the floor. "And if you cared half as much about Dean as you say you do, you would have remembered that he's back in New Haven by now!" That was definitely my mom. 

"The case couldn't possibly have been declared closed," my dad thundered. "Kolin specifically said that ─" 

"Kolin isn't saying anything anymore because he's in New York," my mom exclaims, "and that's a good thing." 

Sydney clicks her tongue beside me. "Maybe we should come back later?" 

They would still be arguing later, so I shake my head, straighten my shoulders and ring the bell. I hear something fall again, then someone stomps to the door and yanks it open angrily. 

To say my mum looks exhausted would be an understatement. Her dark hair is falling over her shoulders and she looks a bit as if she has just fallen out of bed.

If just a moment ago she could have been tearing up trees with rage, it suddenly fizzles out and is replaced by joy. Because of me? Hard to imagine, after all that has happened, but still not impossible. 

She immediately wraps me in her arms and I rest my chin on her head with my eyes closed because she is so small. We haven't hugged in so long that it should be awkward, but I just needed that hug from her. I've missed her, I suddenly realize. But as much as I've missed her, I'm still disappointed in her. 

Determined, I push her away from me but still smile a little. "Hey, Mom." 

"Dean, I ..." She starts to cry and quickly pulls out a tissue from her loose sweatpants to dab the tears from under her eyes. Then her eyes fall on Sydney and she raises her eyebrows in surprise. "You ... you were present at the trial too, weren't you? Your name is Sydney, isn't it?" 

She nods with a smile and extends her hand in a friendly manner. "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Avens."

"Just Alice." Mom shakes her hand and then turns to me with wide eyes. I know exactly what's going on in her head. That Sydney must be very special if I'm bringing her home. And she's not so wrong about that.

"Come inside! You must have been driving a long time. Are you both hungry?" 

Hectically she looks for slippers for us, but I put my hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "Mom, we're not here to have dinner with you. I need to talk to you and Dad." 

She blinks a few times and then nods in agreement. As she signals us to follow her, Sydney and I look around the house extensively. I know most of it already, but still, a lot has changed here.

Where there used to be expensive vases, there's nothing now, which is probably because Mom and Dad have had to throw them down every time they've argued in the past few years.

The pictures of me that used to hang on the walls are all gone as if Mom and Dad wanted to erase every little detail of my childhood. It hurts to look at the bare white walls and reminisce about memories that no longer show in this house. 

In the living room, where Mom leads us, everything has remained the same. To the right is a large, very expensive couch, white to match the walls. A few cushions lie on the floor, disrupting the order in this room. 

I almost had to laugh. Did Mom and Dad have a pillow fight? I rather suspect that they threw them at each other during an argument, but even this image is amusing. 

Mom quickly places the pillows neatly on the sofa and then says, "Why don't you sit down? I'll get your father." 

And I can't wait to see him. 

Strangely, I feel uncomfortable as I take my seat. This has been my home for nineteen years and yet everything seems completely foreign to me. I haven't even noticed that I've been moving my right leg uneasily until Sydney surely places her hand on it and looks at me urgently. "Calm down, Dean. This isn't a trial." 

"Ha, ha," I return with a weak smile. "Believe me, I know." 

She puts a hand to the back of my head and runs it through my hair soothingly, whereupon I close my eyes, swallowing. It's going to be okay. I've been on the run for eight months and I've made it through.

I've been interrogated for almost a week straight and I'm still alive. I've been to a court hearing where I've been the defendant and almost been convicted. And I've been in a maximum-security prison for a fortnight, fighting with the inmates and seeing Xander's face day in and day out.

I survived all that, so a serious talk with my parents won't be able to make me so nervous, will it? 

I take a deep breath, turn my head to Sydney, who has been watching me the whole time and place my lips on hers. I kiss her not stormily or impatiently, but gently and intimately because I just need it at this moment. She smiles as I release myself from her again, and then rests her head on my shoulder. 

Already I feel better as Mom and Dad enter the huge living room. It's almost funny how opposite they look today. Mom is in loose clothes for home, while Dad is wearing his usual suit and is freshly shaved. My father can make it clear with one look that he is disappointed in me, just as he is now.

He pulls his eyebrows together a little, purses his lips in disgust, and runs his hand over his clean-shaven chin. 

"What are you doing here, son?" are his very first words. 

I almost laugh. "Well, I'm glad you still know who I am." 

"Don't be silly Dean." Mom sits down on the sofa across from me and brushes her straggly hair out of her face. "Of course, we still know who you are." 

"It didn't feel that way," I counter quietly. 

My father settles into his old familiar armchair with a roll of his eyes and crosses one leg over the other. For a moment he eyes Sydney up and down, who is clearly uncomfortable. "Is she the girl Bryce told us about, Alice?" 

Bryce? I know that name from somewhere ... 

"That's Sydney," my mom replies with a conspiratorial smile. "And yes, she's the one who was able to prove Dean's innocence, at least that's what Detective Bryce Keller told me." 

It's like a light goes on in my head. They're talking about Officer Redhead, of course, who I had no idea had been in contact with my parents. I often find it hard to believe how entangled everything is anyway.

Kolin, who went to high school with Sydney and who I sort of grew up with, knows Xander and Hunter, who I was close friends with just a few months ago.

Kolin also knows Gavin, who also lived in Tennessee and who, according to my latest knowledge, has his eye on Candice, Bronwyn, and Hollyn.

He killed Hollyn to give her a quick death out of love ─ that part will never make much sense to me.

So Hunter's twin sister has been murdered and the detective who has taken over this case is none other than Officer Redhead, who seems to have kept my parents in the loop. 

My head hurts from so many entangled thoughts. 

My dad is still pulling a disappointed face, yet he says to Sydney, "I guess I have you to thank that Dean can sit here." 

"You don't have to thank me." Sydney nods her head in my direction. "I'm fine with you simply apologizing to Dean." 

Dad raises his eyebrows with a laugh and gives my mom a surprised look. "She's a lot like you, Alice. Just as stubborn and humble." 

"Is that supposed to be an accusation?" asks Mom. 

"No, it's just an observation." Dad finally turns his attention to me and has to visibly pull himself together for this apology. "I'm sorry if you felt like I didn't remember who you were." 

I shake my head because that's not enough for me. My parents haven't stood up for me from the beginning, since before I even escaped. It didn't even occur to them that I might have gone into hiding for a few days to have time to myself while digesting everything.

They didn't care about my safety and well-being at all, instead, they trusted Kolin more than me. That, I think, is what hurts the most. 

Mom pulls out her tissue again and wipes her tears. "Maybe it will help you if we tell you things from our point of view. Maybe then you'll understand your father and me better." 

Waiting, I look back and forth between the two of them. 

Dad clears his throat loudly. "After that girl died, you disappeared. I don't know if you believe me, but your mom and I were worried sick and didn't give a second thought that you might have killed Hollyn McRae. We were sure you just wanted to be alone and would resurface as soon as you were better." 

"After four days, Kolin came to see us," Mom continues, sniffling. "He had a letter with him, a letter that he told us had been from you. We gave it to the police, so I can't give it to you to read, but I swear we're not making it up. You turned out to be a murderer in that letter and said you regretted it but couldn't undo it. You said goodbye to us in that letter." 

Sydney reaches for my hand and strokes my knuckles with her thumb. I stiffen in shock and am speechless at Mom's words. 

"It was your writing, son." Dad props his elbows on his knees and leans forward in his chair. "And everything we read sounded so much like you. We've only known for a few days that Kolin forged this letter and others to convince us."

I don't even want to know how long he had to go through my things before he could find my old exercise books and memorize my writing. I feel sick to think how elaborate it must have been to get my parents on his side, but I realize by now that Kolin would stop at nothing.

His goal has always been to see me behind bars. 

And now it's the other way around.

Quite ironic, if you ask me. 

"You should have questioned it more," I say after a while. "You couldn't possibly have thought I took Hollyn's life for ten months because of a few letters."

"It wasn't just that," Mom whispers, "I don't want to upset you, but you've been acting extremely suspiciously, you have to realize that. You've been on the run for eight months, constantly running away from the police and never showing any sign of life. If you had trusted us ─"

I interrupt her angrily. "That's what I wanted. I was here in Tennessee and was going to explain everything to you, but then ... then I overheard your conversation. You should really remember to close the windows when you talk loud, I mean it. Every time I'm here, you can be heard before you're even in the house." 

Sydney next to me rolls her eyes with a grin, probably because I'm completely off-topic. 

"Anyway ...", I continue. "Anyway, I heard you guys talking about me. You were screaming that I'm the worst disappointment to you and that you can't wait when you finally get to confront me in prison." 

Sydney squeezes my leg a little tighter as Mom starts crying again. I'm tempted to go to her and hug her, but then I remember I'm mad at her again. 

Dad rubs the back of his neck a little ruefully. "We were so convinced about it at the time. I'm ... I'm really sorry. For everything. I promise you we'll never doubt you again, Dean." 

"I'm sorry, too," Mom admits. "And I really hope that someday you can forgive us and, at best, let us back into your life. Into your new better life." 

"I've already shown you my life." Smiling slightly, I look into Sydney's beautiful face. "After all, I brought Sydney here." 

Dad sits bolt upright and eyes Sydney a little more sternly now than before, almost as if he's trying to figure out if she's a good match for me. After a while, he hums contentedly but doesn't smile. Mom has tears in her eyes again as she looks at Sydney, but I know they are tears of joy this time. 

If Sydney is uncomfortable with the three of us looking at her, she doesn't let it show. Her eyes are solely on me and even if she doesn't say it, I know she is secretly proud of both of us.

Not only have we found happiness with each other, no, we've also talked things out with our parents, even though I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive mine one hundred percent. I will need time, but they know that. After all, time will heal all my wounds, won't it? 

I wonder what my life will be like in a year. Will I still be happy and able to enjoy my freedom? Or, in the worst case, is the next catastrophe already looming? Whatever happens, I know I am not alone. I have Sydney and she has me. I will spend every single spare second of my life trying to make her happy, just as she has made me happy. 

In fact, I can't imagine anything more beautiful than that.

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