Saturday – late afternoon – around 5 o'clock. I woke up and for a little while, there was a sheet of bliss over my body. I don't remember what happened at midnight or which one of my friends is dead or that Enzo is a psychopath or that I killed Freddie. 

I only realized everything when I saw Freddie's hallucination body was on the floor next to my bed. Then I remembered Allister was dead and that I was a murderer. I realized the other half of the things I wish I never lived through when I felt vague confusion. Why am I confused? I roll over and feel the warmth of where I didn't sleep, but Enzo did. Confusion: why is he gone? Where'd he go?

 The first thing is first: check my phone. Before, I would just scroll through Instagram and find funny memes to wake me up. Now, I'm checking for texts from Type or messages saying that someone died. Our phone isn't just a means of entertainment now, it's a way of communicating life or death.

I have a message from Hanzo saying he's in the hospital with Della and Aero. Saying that they're okay and doing fine.

 Makai left a voicemail giving me his thanks for saving him. He wants to meet up and discuss what he went through when he's out of the hospital. He says there's a deputy who is supposed to watch him for today and tomorrow and Makai doesn't know if he trusts them or not. 

Della tells me to call her ASAP after I "slay my demons."

Aero says we need to talk.

Nothing from Enzo.

There will never be anything from Allister.

Except, there is.

Allister: Rise and shine! We have a busy day ahead of ourselves. 

 For a moment I just stare at the phone, wondering if there was any possibility that she could have resurrected. But the realistic part of me knows that something else is happening. I sit up and tie my hair back. I slip into a tank top and jean shorts. "DeadAllister text later," I sigh to myself in the mirror. "Parents now. No more hiding. No more secrets." 

 I stop by Enzo's door. Knock. Peek in when no one answers. There's a sticky note on the bed.

Reyna, you nosey bastard. Get out of my room. I'll be home soon. 

From, your neighbourhood psychopath.

I snort and stuff the note in my pocket, the grin erasing from my face when I remember the task at hand. There's the clinking of dishes and cups – Mom and Dad are eating dinner. I sigh and prep myself. 

"Good morning, sweetheart," my mom cheers, placing a dish at the foot of the table for me. "I was just about to wake you up. Your um...friend, left and said he had to go to work. How old is he again?" 

I sit and stuff my face, eating out of nervousness rather than actual hunger. "Twenty-two. Maybe twenty-three."

"Is it really wise for you to be involved in a boy – a man – that age?"

My father judges me with the hard grey eyes he gave to me. My mother studies me with intricacy. Okay, time to drop the bomb.

I take a sip of water, watching them and clearing my throat. Setting the glass down, I wipe my mouth with a napkin before neatly placing it back on the table. "Is it really wise to hide the fact that your daughter has been hanging around her brother, be unknown to her?"

My father's focus from me flicks to my mom with anger. Furiously, Mom blushes before almost dropping all of the dishes she was collecting. "Reyna, what are you talking about?" 

"Mom," I start, standing up and looking her dead in the eye. "Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I would bring something like this up from a make-believe place in my head? You know what I'm talking about." 

My dad speaks up next. "I told you she would find out, Nancy," he accuses. 

"Dad you don't have room to speak," I spit. "When we were all at the table you pretended to not even know who he was. And you know what?" I lean over and stare at him. "It was disgusting. My own half-twin brother was kidnapped and you didn't care." I glare back at my mom. "And you didn't even help. You didn't care to look. Did you even reach out to Anthony? Makai's dad?" 

My dad perches a brow at the top of his currently wrinkled forehead. "I..." Mom sits down at the table and rests her head in her hands. "It's complicated. I don't want to talk about it." 

"You don't get to not talk about it!" I retort. "I've gone through hell the past week. My friend died. My brother is finally okay. I killed Freddie. So you don't get to pretend innocent."

My mother looks at me with tears in her eyes. She doesn't look 45 anymore. She looks a thousand years old. "You did what?" 

"I went to the 4512 address. I found Makai. There was a man in a cloak and he threatened us. I attacked him. He died. It turns out, he was just a pawn in the killer games. Now, I see Fred's body in the corner of my eye or imagine his blood pooling on the floor. So don't you dare tell me things are complicated."

A weight I never knew is lifted off my chest. Confessing to Freddie's murder feels...freeing. "How didn't the cops know?" my dad asks, unable to look me in the eye.

"They did," I respond. "At least one of them did. They covered for me. They also happened to be my Spring Carnival date."

"Reyna, it's okay," Mom assures. "You did what you had to."

"Did what she had to?" my dad flares, standing up. "She killed someone in cold blood."

I thought he was the killer!" I justify, speaking up as well. Back then, I would've shied away and backed down, not wanting to get in the middle of anything. But now things have changed. Through all of this, I realize that I have a voice and an opinion – and they're pretty damn strong ones. "You have your brother taken from you, and your house bugged,  and your locker and bedroom full of mysterious notes, and your friend shot as payback forgetting Makai and we see what you do, Dad. You can judge me after you've walked the past week in my shoes." 

My oh-so-righteous father says nought. Neither does my mom.

"If you'll excuse me," I grumble, heading to my room and fetching my car keys. "I have a brother check upon. You want to come, Mom? He is your son."

"He doesn't know?" she asks, eyes flooded with emotion.

"Not yet."

There's a stiff silence that makes me want to scream and shatter it. "Text me whenever you decide to go somewhere," she requests. 

I snort and walk out. "Whatever."

 As soon as I shut the door behind me, the arguing between my parents picks up. They scream about the past as my mom confesses to keeping in contact with Anthony Keanu. They shriek about whether or not to turn me into Sheriff Desario. My father brings up my"twenty-something-year-old boyfriend staying right next door" and claims that I'm on the road to a dark place. Eventually, my dad calls my mom a liar and a cheater. My mom comes back selfish and dastardly. 

I roll my eyes, thinking: why can't they fight as Enzo and I did at the carnival? Quiet and reserved. Powerful and meaningful; yet small and fleeting. 

 I hope I'm not like my parents when I'm married.

Starting my car, I think about the old couple who spoke to me about Enzo and me. WasEnzo faking being enamoured with me so well it could've been mistaken for love? Or did he really love me? Does he love me? More importantly, do I love him?

 I ponder it for a second before I think of all the complications of being in love with Enzo King. He handles emotions in an inhumane way. He tortured my brother. He fake sympathy. How am I supposed to deal with that when I can barely confront my own parents? 

I recall how I melted into him last night – how I was so distraught but I felt so put together with him. Was it just the desperation to have someone near me? For someone to comfort me? Or was it the true, raw self about me that likes Enzo? That might even love him?

I shake my head. I have bigger things to deal with than puppy love.

I think about the old woman's ring glinting in my eye as I danced with Enzo King.

Puppy love, Reyna?

I clench my jaw and drive.