June 26th, 2016

I'm not sure what to do, when I hear who I now know to be a girl called Jennifer-Anne, crying on the other side of the call.

Most of the Rich Kids left Bluebeach and went to college in the same year that Rose died. I came back for the funeral, and also around Christmas break, but most of the contact between me and Rose's family had been completely cut off. Even Jamie, Rose's sister who was a few years older than me (but I still managed to flirt with discreetly every now and then), stopped communicating. It was like the family had just gone into hiding after Rose's death. The Rich Kids' friendships scattered and disintegrated, and social gatherings were to be held by the kids in the year below now. It was almost as if everything was forgotten, just gone in a matter of months.

It honestly didn't occur to me that Rose's mother would have had another child. I was studying in college miles away, focusing on making my relationship with Sofia work amongst other things. I had even drifted away from Nicole and Jonesy in the following year. Though I still couldn't get Rose out of my head for a long time, I was never expecting something like a new child to pop up so soon. When I got the phone call from Jamie, it confirms any doubts I had to there being a much simpler explanation for everything. I'm kicking myself, and I have never felt like more of an idiot in my life when I got that call. I didn't even think to wonder how Jamie got my number, or even just general questions like what her life is like now. I was just slotting the pieces of the puzzle in my mind, whilst my face and body burned with embarrassment and regret. Yet again.

She told me that it was none other than their lastborn, and how she's such a huge practical joker. "Annie has always had this fantasy of discovering her deceased sister's life, in some ways. I never thought she would stretch it out to these depths." At least I can answer the question as to why she was the same age as Rose when she died- she was born just over a year after, and it's now sixteen years since her birth. Hardly rocket science.

Apparently the family had absolutely no clue where she had gone, and it was only at Anne's admission that she could track me down and contact me. She apologised immensely and told me to pass on my newfound information to Anne, if I could. When I told her that she wasn't currently with me and that I didn't know exactly where she was, she gave me her number. In an impulsive rage, I could think of nothing else but to call her and let her know that she had been found out.

Though the story is almost cleared up, there are still some things that I'm unsure about. For one, 'Annie' sure does seem to know a lot for a younger sister exploring her older sister's past. She knew almost everything – the inside jokes, the memorable events. The only two things that seemed to go past her were the situations regarding Nicole, and Tanner; this was a red flag, because there was no way Rose wouldn't remember, or at least know of that. There were times when I recalled things that I could see the girl in front of me sitting and staring in intrigue and wonder as if she was learning something, rather than going back on something that she would have already known. The kinks in her armour were not being able to know every single thing - her Achilles heel was the fact that at the end of the day, she wasn't Rose. But with that being said, there's something unsettling about everything. Just the way it appears this girl has done her research, all the way down to wearing the right clothes. The blue dress and the beige cardigan.

Nothing confuses me more than simply how identical she looks. Any idiot could point that out – any idiot could think that they were twins. It's not even like she's just her younger sister - she acts the same way. She does things Rose used to do, that even Rose didn't know she did. The body language, the trivial mannerisms, everything. It's no wonder I fell for it.

The phone call with Jamie left me with more questions than answers, but I just don't know how to articulate them. I don't know where to start. It may not make any sense trying to ask them. I just had to get out my frustration on Anne, before trying to rewire everything in my mind.

I need to understand why this Annie girl cares so much about Rose's life – about me. I wonder if she tried the same with Nicole or anybody else; I already know Sofia is out of the question, because of her doubts when I started getting the phone calls. I want to know why she wanted to pull off this grand magic trick. But most of all, I want to know why she looks like an exact carbon copy of Jennifer-Rose.

After a call with Anne, I feel the need to do something I haven't done in a long time. It probably won't look good on my part, and I could be stepping into muddy waters, but I feel it necessary.

I think I'll have to reconnect with Nicole Sanchez.

◆ ◆ ◆

July 13th, 1999

[The day after the shooting]

"Hello, Mr Wade. I'm Officer Wilson, and this is my partner Officer Rouge. We just need to ask you a few questions regarding the suspect at the Bluebeach shooting yesterday afternoon."

"Sure," Bret cracks his knuckles as he sits on the couch opposite the two investigators. His palms are clammy, and his forehead dotted with sweat beads. It's definitely not hot enough to produce perspiration. He's just shitting himself.

"It has been brought to our attention that Tanner Holt was a close friend of both yours and Jennifer-Rose Middleton's along with Nicole Sanchez and Christof Jones. Is that correct?"

"...Uhh, yeah. That's correct. The five of us were very close. That's why this is extremely out of the blue, you know." He scratches the back of his head.

"We were actually wondering whether you had any knowledge of the conspiracy to attack Jennifer-Rose, or harm her in any way – Holt confessed to Rose being the main target, with any other casualties just additions to the destruction he desired to cause." Officer Wilson looks right into Bret's eyes.

As the pair wrangle on the ground, Tanner manages to land a fist right under Bret's eye. He groans in pain before lashing out at Tanner, who falls back on the floor of his basement, landing with a thud. He reaches out to grab the gun that slid across to the other side of the room amidst the struggle. Bret's heart starts to thud – he knew Tanner was slightly unhinged, but not crazy enough to kill him over an argument about Rose. What started off as a drunken debate as to where Rose's real intentions lied escalated quickly into a violent brawl, with Tanner reaching quickly for the firearm in his father's basement. Bret could only do so much to stop it, especially under the influence of alcohol. As they punched and kicked at each other, Bret wondered if he would ever see another day. He feels like he may have been the only person to see this side of Tanner Holt; the deranged, jealous lunatic teenage boy. The one who just happened to have access to guns.

"Wade, it's you or the girl." Tanner breathes, pointing the gun directly to Bret's forehead. He didn't manage to get the weapon from Tanner quickly enough, and he is overwhelmed by his injuries.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I could either shoot you now, or I'll kill Rose. I can't do both. If I bust your head, you save Rose's life. If you leave here alive, I'll make sure she's gone."

Bret lets out a hearty laugh, a laugh of delirium. He can't quite register what he's hearing, or who's saying it. But all he has to do is look at the expression on Tanner's face to know he's not joking.

"How could you cover something like that up? Murdering one of your best friends? Holding the other one at gunpoint?"

"I don't give a damn about prison," Tanner says swiftly. As if he's had time to contemplate it, or as if he's something of a psychopath. "And at least I'll be famous for something, right?"

In Tanner's nonchalance, Bret quickly rushes to knock the gun out of Tanner's hand. But it's like he saw it coming, and like lightening, he abruptly has Bret in a headlock. The gun is kissing his temple. Tanner has never been the strongest, and it's no doubt that Bret would ruin him in a real fight. But when one is in a situation this surreal, sometimes adrenaline and muscle isn't enough.

"I'm being serious, Wade," Tanner hisses. "Who should I use my bullets on? You or Rose?"

"You don't have to do this, bro. I'm telling you. You don't have to."

"You both think you can get away with humiliating me," he chuckles. "Whatever you've been doing with her, and when, you'd rather screw up your relationship with your girl than try and wing for me."

"Are you crazy?" Bret splutters. "I told you. I did nothing with Rose. I lied to Sofia because... I don't know. I just did. But it wasn't her. I never went near her."

"Never?"

Bret can't answer. Tanner loads the magazine, and the click startles Bret. The thing that scares him the most is the strength of his grip and the fact that his hands aren't shaking. The barrel is pointed to Bret's temple like a laser. He knows that he'll be dead in less than thirty seconds unless he saves himself.

"Don't kill me," Bret pleads. "Please, don't."

"Ahh. So, it's Jennifer-Rose, then?"

"No."

"You know the rules. It's you or her, goddamnit!"

"Her!" Bret yells. "Go on, then. Fucking blow her brains out, for all I care. Do it."

"Are you sure you want that?" Tanner asks, almost like he's clarifying someone's order at In-N-Out. The calmness sends chills through Bret's spine.

"Yeah. I'm sure. You can't tell nobody I told you that, though. That's unfair. You put me in a real bad position, Holt."

"Don't worry about that," Tanner says, releasing his grip. "I'm responsible for all of this. I'll tell the cops it was all me." He smiles. He seems almost excited, like he can't wait to be on TV or something. He's going to take all the credit, and he's going to revel in the infamy.

Bret doesn't think Tanner will go through with it. He feels like he's all bark and no bite, and whatever he's feeling now will fade in the morning. But deep down, he's not too sure. He thinks he may have just put a target on Rose's back, and he's afraid for what he may have done. He stumbles out of Tanner's house in agony, not being able to see straight. He falls into the driver seat and leans his head on the steering wheel, and flimsily reaches for his phone so he can call Nicole.

The whole time, his heart never stops bounding in his chest.

"I had no clue it would happen. Tanner didn't show any signs of plotting to do anything." Bret says. "It was just a normal day, you know. Then everything changed."

"You were the last person Tanner had met the night before, correct?"

"Yes."

"What can you tell us of that account. What was said, or what happened?"

"Nothing. We just sat and drank, played a couple of games and watched television."

Bret watches Officer Rouge eyeing his injuries. The bruise on his cheek is a galactic purple, lined with mustard yellow. It's hard to not notice. "What happened there?" she asks, signalling to his face.

"I fell whilst I was drunk," Bret says. Semi true, semi false.

"Ahh. No altercation or something of the sort?"

"No. With who?"

"Tanner holt had sustained similar injuries upon an examination of his person," Rouge answers. "So did Jennifer-Rose. Bruises along her arm and some scratches on her neck."

"What would they have to do with me?" Bret is instantly in defence mode. He wants to distance himself as much as he can from the situation, but the marks on his body are drawing him closer.

"We're not sure, Mr Wade. What would it?"

"Nothing. At all. I told you how I got these." He wasn't aware of the injuries to Rose, and he instantly gathers that Tanner must have hurt her, too. A part of him wonders if he did the same thing to her, but if so, it wouldn't make sense; Rose would have probably begged for her life too, and Bret would have been the dead man. Unless Rose offered herself, and then Bret's selfish affirmation was the cherry on top. But knowing her, she probably would have egged Tanner on to hurt her, thinking that he wouldn't actually have the balls to do it. Maybe Bret was the one who ended up with the gun resting on his temple, so he reacted differently. It was all just taunting speculation, running circles around his head.

"Okay," Officer Wilson responds. "I suppose these injuries are nothing but us trying to connect the dots, but we can't go further on that basis. Back to the first question – were there no pointers at all as to the shooting?"

"No, I told you. Have you interviewed the others? Nicole or Jo- Christof Jones? What did they say?"

"None of that information is to be distributed, Mr Wade. We would just like an individual account from your own knowledge. Are you telling me that you had no clue about his history of mental illness, such as his bipolar disorder?"

Here they go with that mentally ill white kid shooter, Bret thinks to himself. Tanner was nothing but evil, and he had nothing in his mind but to wreak havoc. His wellbeing can't be blamed. There are so many people with mental illnesses that wouldn't do what he did.

"He'd been in remission for a year. He went to a young adult's rehab centre in Arizona last year, and he's been fine ever since. Why would that be the cause?"

"So you knew?"

"I knew he had something at some point. But I couldn't predict something like this happening." Bret lies through his teeth, and it hurts to say, but he wants nothing to do with it. He may he somehow held responsible for knowing and not doing anything about it – murder by omission, if Rose dies. Of course, he could use maybe duress as a defence, after all he was held at gunpoint by Tanner. But he just wants to wash away the memory and run away from the reality surrounding him. He wants nothing to do with it. "Tanner had always liked Rose. He adored her. For months, he would always go on about it. There was no reason for him to do what he did."

"Sounds like a classic case of jealousy," Officer Rouge jots something down in her notebook. "He must have had the If I can't have her, no one can mentality."

"Maybe..." Bret says with a small, mousy voice.

"Well, we don't really have much else to ask," Officer Wilson straightens his posture. "We just needed to know if this shooting could have been predicted, or even better, prevented by someone close to him, or someone who knew him. We have all we need from you. Thank you for your time, and we're sorry about your friend."

And with that, the investigators exit Bret's living room. And then in the silence of his own home, he cries. Something he hasn't done for a very, very long time.

His lies got Rose lying on life support. His bullshit tore his friendships apart. Had he not laid a finger on Rose all those months ago, he would not have anything to hide when it came to Tanner's suspicions. Had he not laid a finger on Nicole, he would not have gotten to the point where he was caught red-handed. Had he not implanted the false idea that Rose was the main accomplice to his cheating ways, he wouldn't have put a target on her back. He weaved a web of lies and deceit and through his cowardice and evasiveness, he put a bullet hole through Jennifer-Rose Middleton's head.