The first 10 minutes in Reyna's car were silent beside her crying. I didn't really know what to do, considering I'm psychologically incapable of empathizing, so I looked out my window. Somewhere, deep down, a small voice asked me why I wasn't watching someone suffer. Watching people cry and mourn and get pissed is a satisfying hobby of mine. So why aren't I watching with a bag of popcorn? I've already had my fill with Mr Emotional Keanu, I tell myself.

Finally, she stops crying and I look over. Her makeup is all smeared and she wipes it off with her white cover-up, which she just ditches, all in all, realizing her mistake. "What do you want?"

Money, Makai. 

I clear my throat. "I wanted to ask you about 4512."

 Sceptically, she looks me over. "Are you asking me as a cop or an undercover cop?" 

"I'm asking you as your date to the Spring Carnival," I assure, scrounging up my"caring" act. "I saw your call to Triple-A at the address and I wiped it."

She sniffs and blows her nose into her ruined cardigan. Ew. "Yeah, I know you guys did a phone log check. I figured it was you who wiped it clean...and replaced the board at the house." 

Cue the nostalgic poet: "Ah, and though she is falling apart, her mind stays at peace."

 "Please," she bites. "Nothing about this is peaceful." 

 "So you did kill...whatever his name is. I honestly can't remember," I admit. 

 "Yeah, I did," she confirms, making a gesture towards to back of her car. "With the crowbar in my trunk."

I think of all the things that could've happened while I was out. I was out getting a tux for the dance at the Spring Carnival, believe it or not. Sure, I told Aero I was hidingDestiny's body in the lake, but I hate that kid. He's always getting in my way and being my counterpart. Except it's easier to be the counterpart that everyone likes rather than be me. 

But what if she escaped with Makai? If Makai got out...I would be dead. His almost getting in Reyna's car earned me a fractured rib that I went into the hospital for...again.I've never seen my employer's face. He hides behind a black mask and shrouds himself in a dark cloak. He caught me in a drug-smuggling scene about a year ago. Apparently, he did his research and offered me 1,000$ dollars per naughty-yet-enjoyable deed and the opportunity to see someone fall apart almost every day. I said yes around 11 months ago, and I've been setting things up for him. Some of the other employed and I have been in charge of setting things up, and finally, plans have been set into motion. I don't have a motive or clue as to who this is and why they're doing these things, but I really don't care. 

"Why were you two hours out there in the first place?" I ask, more curious about how she knew where Makai was. 

"I was trying to prove a point," she says, straightening up and twisting towards me. "My friends and I were all really close to Makai. We had a clue as to where he was when Della'smom died..."

Cue the curious idiot who isn't the one keeping Makai captive: "Who's Della? And how did her mom die?" 

"Della is short for Adelina." Reyna rolls her grey eyes and pushes back strands of her hair. I remember being at the party before my brother called me when Destiny's blood, my blood, and some twins blood were on the walls. At the side of the lake, Aero had pushed those strands of hair back – so chivalrous and kind. "She was one of my close friends. Her mom was decapitated at home, and she called me and asked for me to go over. I didn't." 

I remember reading the names of those close friends on the cups of coffee. "You were taking me to the hospital instead..." I act as I piece together. "I wish you told me...if only the carjackers had gotten me a little later..." And not have been perfectly timed to intersect you on the highway with the tracker someone else planted in your phone. 

"It's not your fault, Enzo," she assures, placing a hand on my arm, giving me sudden goosebumps despite the warm weather. Chill the hell out, body. She removes her hand and places it in her lap. "But at 4512, I thought that Freddie was the killer. Clearly, he wasn't. And I found Makai. He escaped but when I got back outside after killing Fred...he was just...gone." 

Makai's IV blood bags are in a freezer where Makai is being held currently. They were in the old TV stand for safe-keeping. I moved them out in time.

You're probably wondering why my blood was in the mix with everyone else's in Destinys room. Whoever organized all of this only kills people with the blood type of O or AB-. I fit the bill, I guess...which makes sense because I'm everyone's type. But whoever is doing this wanted to give their targeted group of friends a clue to what's happening. Because what great serial killer story doesn't have plot twists and revelations at every sharp turn? 

"You'll find him again," I assure her as any normal friend would do, I think.

 "You only get lucky once," she counters hopelessly.

 "Not unless you're really attractive," I joke. I realize it's insensitive to the moment, and whatever walls I was tearing through probably just came right back up. 

But Reyna laughs at the joke. "Not helping," she says, though she smiles.

"Well, it seems to be," I add, making my voice extra soft. 

 "But I'm serious. How the hell am I going to get such a blatant clue as to where he is again?"

 "Rey, we'll find him. You know how I know?"

She looks at me and this moment, I hold her whole world in my emotionless hands. I could crush her right here. Right now...but like I said, I had my fill with Makai earlier today, so...

 Mhmm... 

 Go away, a voice in my head.

"How?" she asks, dying for any glimmer of hope when her world has turned so bleak. Her friends turned on her, she let the missing one slip away, and she killed an innocent man. The fact that she's looking for a light side to this speaks a lot about her character. 

 I place my hands on her shoulders...soft, that weird part of me acknowledges. "because I'm going to help you." 

Wait, what? 

Enzo...what're you doing, buddy? You're going to help one of your toys find a man you kidnapped? How are you going to pull that one off? 

"Really?" she asks. 

 "Really," I confirm. There's a part of me that wants to take my hands off her shoulders and get out of the car with a "see you tomorrow." But there's another part that dares me to keep my hands there just a little bit longer. 

"Why are you helping me?" Reyna inquires leaning forwards, searching for something. I don't find myself leaning away. 

"What, the rugged ex-druggie can't help the damsel in need of revenge?" I deflect. I find myself looking at her for weaknesses. The sharp edge of her jaw, her slight pink flush of soft skin, her clear grey eyes...

Wait, these aren't her weaknesses, I scold myself. They're mine. 

 "Not like you did," she explains, leaning back against her door, my hands sliding off her shoulders.

"What do you mean?" I question, lowering my eyelids and looking at her glossed lips, knowing it drives girls crazy. I realize that I'm the one leaning forwards the slightest bit. Does Reyna know how to play these games, too? Or is she just a natural?

"You're a cop," she bluntly says. "But you erased phone records and replaced a board for me because it had my DNA on it. So why are you really helping me?"

I cock my head to the side. "Does everything need an answer?" 

 She folds her legs underneath her dress and puts her head in her hands, resting her elbows on the armrest between us. "In a time where there seems to be none, I'll take all the answers I can get my hands on."

"Fair enough," I give way. In the distance, the school bell rings. Reyna doesn't even flinch. She holds a steady gaze into my yellow eyes with an evenness that reminds me of myself, in a way. "You going back into school?"

She looks out the back, the loose strands falling on her face. "Um...no. Not today. I'm not ready yet."

Now, I do what my brother did, but put more suave into it. I push the strands behind her ear but leave my hand cupping the side of her face. Smooth, that unattached part of me hums. Noticeably, I search her face with a purposefully wondrous expression. This way, when I drop my hand suddenly and blink rapidly, as if getting some idea out of my head and stumble over the words, "Um, I should uh...I should go...," she can't help but lean over and kiss me.

I pretend to be startled, backing away at the "suddenness." She stops and inches away." Sorry," she whispers, cheeks furiously blushing as she looks down, long eyelashes wooping past the dark bags she tried to hide with extra makeup. But only I notice because I notice everything. 

And right before she shrinks away, I slide a hand through her dark hair, palm resting on the slope of her neck, and push my lips against hers – softly at first, but then a little more direct. Her hands relax on my shoulders and slither up my neck, stopping at the sides of my face. I use my other hand to support myself against the dashboard.

Shockingly, it's Reyna who ends the moment. "Was it too much?" I question, finding myself vaguely dizzy. My stomach feels weird, too, like it's flipping up and down and I  don't know if I'm about to vomit or laugh. It's a peculiar feeling and I don't really feel comfortable with it. I notice my palms are sweaty and it takes everything in me not to furrow my brows with confusion.

"I don't know," she answers. She relaxes back into her chair, looking out of the car, eyes going back and forth as if searching for answers.

"Did you...like it?" I question, feeling strange asking; as if I was an average middle school kid getting nervous. But I wouldn't know what that feels like because I was a psychopath. We don't feel much of any emotion besides anger, but we're masters at faking the things we don't feel. We love causing pain and manipulating people. It's probably because we get bored too easily and need something to stimulate us. Humans are never the same in the way they fall apart, but they all fall for the same things. 

"Yes," she answers with a single nod, savouring the fact that she finally has an answer.

 My phone goes off from a text message, startling both of us.

Sheriff Desario: Domestic noise complaint a couple of blocks from your area. Go check it out. 

In case you're wondering, yes: Sheriff Desario is Maren's dad. 

"Sheriff Desario wants me to check out a noise complaint," I explain, shoving my phone into my pocket. 

 "Did you want me to go with you?" Reyna questions.

 "Of course," I answer. "But I want you to go home and rest even more."

 Reyna shrugs. "I'm rested."

I cup her face with my hands and run my thumbs just below her eyes, where the dark bags are. "Not quite." Reyna flips her mirror down and looks at her face, worrying if it was as evident as I made it seem. "If I was anyone else, I wouldn't have noticed," I promise. 

"Well that's embarrassing," she utters. 

I shake my head and open the door. I stand outside and put one arm on the top of her car and lean in to speak. "Not embarrassing: human," I correct. But it's not like I'd know anything about it. 

"What do I do about Freddie?" she asks.

I take a deep breath and think. Am I really going to help her out, or watch her crash and burn? "Legally, I got you covered. As for your friends, that's up to you. But as for your conscience...do whatever you need to clear it."

 "What if I feel the need to come clean?" Suddenly, she looks tiny. Like she's a toddler.

"Honestly, if we uncover the killer and all the secrets, the truth about Freddie will come out the way it needs to." 

 She bites her lower lip in thought. Always thinking, I realize. "It's almost like an added incentive...alright." 

 "Alright, what?" I question. 

"I'll find the killer and everything will just sort of fall into place."

I stuff a hand in my pocket, mentally wondering about how I'm going to balance helping Reyna, helping myself, and helping my employer. That'll be fun. The pills I take –Vicodin – slip between my fingers. I don't take the pills because I'm in pain, but I used to. I always got in fights when I was a total drug-abuser, so the Vicodin helped me then. But it's become a sort of habit now. "Sounds like a plan to not plan," I go over aloud. "I like it." 

"I'll see you later," Reyna says, putting her seatbelt on. 

I smirk before shutting the door and walking to my own black car to answer some stupid noise complaint. But I'm not going to lie, because this is just between you and me: that noise complaint might've been the only thing keeping my hands to myself, to put it nicely.