Maren, Grayson, and Kellin leave me with two psychopaths. They look completely different, but they don't act that way. Both have killed people and both think their actions are justifiable. The jagged cut over Enzo's eye makes him look trulymurderous. The twisted smile over Ezio's face makes him seem like the original killereven more. 

"So, we're here now," I state the obvious, walking closer to Ezio. I try to ignore the factthat Enzo is tied up and staring at me with wide, hopeless eyes. I also try to ignore the factthat if something terrible happened to him, I wouldn't feel all that bad. At least, not rightnow I wouldn't

The pain in my shoulder and my palms are catching up to me now. It hurts to hold theknife and it hurts to walk and swing my arms. But with the situation at hand, I think I canpush the pain out of my mind for a little bit longer.

 "I just want to get a good look at you is all," Ezio promises, stepping away from Enzoand walking around me in circles. Accidentally, I look at Enzo; his yellow eyes are glassyand he watches me carefully, calculating my expressions and trying to translate them intosomething he understands. But what is there to possibly understand? My friends aredead, partially because of him. I put aside my suspicions and trusted him with everythingI had, only for the killer to make a short film about how stupid I was to trust such a man. 

"You've been looking at me for fifteen years," I whisper, feeling Ezio's trailing eyes. "Apicture lasts longer."

"Wrong," Ezio corrects, stopping in front of me. "A picture can be damaged. Often, pictures capture fake, setup moments. There's nothing fake about you when you break down, or cry, or scream at the world. In fact, that's when you're the most real." 

"Well you looked," I say.

"I just want to get a good look at the bitch who corrupted my son."

 Scoffing, I say, "Your son was already corrupted. He was corrupted by a monster whoshoots his child, has his other one fall for someone to betray them, and stabs their wife. You're just a lowlife piece of shit. Why pick Maren as an accomplice? You would've seeneye-to-eye even more so with him," I nod at Enzo, whose eyes flare with anger. Good. Iwant him to hate me so when he tries to accuse me of something, I can mitigate it bybringing up all his flaws and tearing him down. There's a side of me who wants him to feelthe pain I'm feeling now

"I saved you time and time again!" Enzo roars, furious at my comments. "Without me, you would've been dead." 

"Who knows?" I spit back. "Della might know, or Hanzo, or Adriano – but you killedthem all. You, Enzo. Not your failure of a father, or your psychological disorder – butyou."

"I didn't have a choice. I had to do anything to protect you. I love you!" 

"I used to love you, too," I sob. "But you're a liar and a fake. It's one thing to mask youremotions every now and then, but you have too many masks for me. You act like a normalperson capable of feeling until you get bored. So instead of picking one of the manyreasons to tear yourself down, you find someone else to destroy. It's sick, twisted, anddisgusting." 

"What're you trying to say?" Enzo growls, brows tight together in vexation. He strainsagainst his bonds and his jaw feathers. "What are you trying to say after all the countlesstimes I saved you? Go on, kid. Spit it out."

Ezio has stepped aside and made his way to Enzo, who has worked up a massivetemper. Like Enzo is a dog on a leash, Ezio cuts the ropes away and Enzo stands up like aspring that's been recoiled for too long. Suddenly, I become afraid. Would Enzo hurt me? I don't see why not. 

"What do you possibly have to say to me?" Enzo roars, amber eyes glowing with theeffects of a broken life. "You, Reyna," he jabs a finger into my good shoulder. "Whowould've been shot at the carnival if it wasn't for me. You, Reyna," he steps closer and Istep back, "Who would've been caught for murdering Fred if it wasn't for me. You, Reyna, who would've never been noticed by anyone unless they were forced to see you – which Iwas. What are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say I can fight for myself given the opportunity!" I shout at him, makingmy voice louder to push back my tears. How could he say such things? How could he be soangry with me when I've done nothing wrong? "I'm trying to say I have a voice and you know what it's saying?" 

"What?" Enzo asks, flinging his arms at his side and rolling his eyes. "I'm dying toknow." 

 I snort. "If only you were dying," I growl. "But my voice is saying fuck you." 

We already did that," he emotionlessly states, looking at me like I'm a child. 

 Suddenly, the knife in my hand becomes very heavy. I bring it up and point the tip atthe hollow of his neck. "I would do anything to take it back." 

 Now, it's Enzo who looks hurt. How dare he act like he's been offended after sayingthose things to me. I hope Ezio kills him slowly.

What am I thinking? I love him, that's why those words hurt so much.
 But I hate him. I fucking hate his guts. 

"Do it," Enzo challenges. "I'd like to see you try. Go ahead: try to stab me and give me areason to do something about it." 

The offer is tempting. Very tempting. Scarily tempting. But..."I'm not like you." 

"Redeem yourself in my eyes, Enzo," Ezio says behind his son, whispering creepily inhis ears like the paedophile he is with liking Maren and all. "Strike before she does."

"Will you love me if I do?" Enzo asks, void eyes boring into me. No...he doesn't havevoid eyes...there's some sort of emotion there. He looks into my eyes and flicks his focusto the knife and to the side, where his father stands. Is he telling me to...kill his dad afterseeming like he wanted me dead two seconds ago?

"Yes," Ezio assures. "Now. Do it."

Enzo's black brows quirk upwards as if asking if I'm ready. 

Ever-so-slightly, I nod. Like an explosion, Enzo steps to the side and I drive the knife towards Ezio, whodeflects the blade with my own. His other arm wraps around my neck and he goes to bring the knife into me when I stab his side. Howling in pain, Ezio loosens his grip on me andEnzo charges at him, punching Ezio in the face. He goes for another hit when Ezio deflectsthe hit and bashes Enzo's nose into his knee. 

Stumbling backwards, Enzo almost runs into me. "Get out of here," tells me. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me for everything."

"After what you said? There's no way in hell I'd ever forgive you for that. There's no way I'd forgive you for anything. I hate you."

"Leaving so soon?" Ezio inquires, a wide smile plastered on his face. He's charged up, now. Getting stabbed and beating his son has excited him and made him crave more.

"We've only just begun."

"I only did that so you could get a clear shot," Enzo defends. "I would never hurt you."

"Right," I say, flinging the door open. "Only my friends."

I dart out of the den and into the theatre, where I trip over the bodies of Grayson andKellin. I'm about to wonder if they're alive when Desk Guy groans as I tumble on top ofhim. His mouth is taped shut and they're both bound. A slight scent of chloroform hits mynose and I figure they're just being woken up from their forced sleep. Where's Maren? 

"Run," Enzo demands before slamming the door to the den shut. And locking it. Withhim inside. 

A part of me hates him for being so noble. Hates him for trapping the killer with hislife at risk to save everyone. Enzo just wanted to be so good so bad. He did bad things forthe right reasons. But this is different from torturing my brother then saving him. Heended the lives of my best friends and held me as I fell apart over the deaths he caused.

 I still have his knife. And Maren is out here somewhere. I'm sure she's watching menow. Maybe she's hidden in one of the dark rows of this movie theatre. I should cut Grayand Kell free, but if they're not actively trying to kill Maren, then they don't have anyreason to get hurt or killed. So I'll keep them as they are. 

I go to the end of the rows and slowly waltz up the aisle. I extend the knife and the tiprattles against the chairs. It's like I'm a cage master rallying up the beasts I've trappedinside. I'm taunting Maren now, trying to lure her out. I'm parched and the only thingthat can quench this thirst is revenge. 

"You want me?" I shout, voice echoing in the theatre. As I go up the aisle, I walk faster,knife drumming against the chairs hard and fast. "You want to watch me suffer from afarlike your little experiment? Well, I'm here, motherfucker." All the anger that's beenbuilding up for the past month or so fuels my actions. From all my lost friends to thebetrayals of those I loved, and the naivety I feel at trusting Enzo has been bottled up andstored away. When I'm sad, I let it out. But my anger? Well, I've kept that hidden, but nowit's ready to come out and play.

"What's wrong, Maren? Not living up to the standards of a psycho killer? What aletdown. You don't even fit in amongst the criminals."

 From the top of the aisle, I hear a grunt. "You want to go? We can go, damsel indistress." 

Distress can mean pain and suffering and angst," I educate. "Well, all that pain andsuffering and angst is about to help me kill you. You didn't create an innocent person'sdownfall of depression, Maren. You created an angry bitch whose entire family is dead. And I'm positive that I can do a lot more damage than you." 

Now, I can finally Maren approaching me. Her eyes are wild – all whites and hardlyany pupil. Her secret was probably eating away at her since she murdered Allister. Nowshe doesn't have to hide what she's done and I can see the effects that her maniacal runhas caused. Maren could've been born in the jungle and raised by wolves and she'd lookthe same as she does now. 

"Only one way to find out," Maren coos, hair sticking to her sweaty, pale face. "Youused to say that all the time, remember?" 

 "Considering I didn't spontaneously develop Alzheimer disease, yeah I remember. Remember when you were my friend?" 

 Maren holds a knife to her temple and twirls it like a finger. "Uhh, the memory is alittle foggy. Are you sure we were ever friends?" 

"I wish we never were," I tell her. 

Finally, we meet in the aisle. Maren drives her knife at my chest like it's a sword. Parrying it away, I swipe at her intestines. She steps back but moves forwards to make awild punch to my jaw. I absorb the hit but dig my blade into the inside of her arm and giveit a hardy twist. 

 "Ahh!" Maren screams in pain. For some reason, I feel a twinge of guilt. Well, at leastwe know I'm not psychopathic. She kicks me in the gut and I take my knife with me as Ifumble backwards. "No worries. I love the pain." 

"How did you turn out like this?" I inquire, trying to figure out where my best friendwent. 

"You happened," she growls. "I hate you!" Maren grabs her knife with newfounddetermination and raises it, trying to bring it down on my head. I dodge, but she's rightthere and making a go at my chest. Ducking to the ground, I kick her legs out from underher and try to stab her in the heart.

However, Maren is quick. She rolls aside and kicks me in the forehead. Grunting inpain, I fall on my back. Maren straddles me and raises her hand to stab me. Using my ownweapon, I slash at her wrist, severing the main artery, which is what happened to the Kingtwins which sparked this whole ordeal. 

Her blood spews out of her like a geyser. It's a hose that only gets worse the more youtry to restrict its flow. While she's distracted, she drops her blade. Taking advantage of thesituation, I grab her weapon in my other hand. I make an X with my arms and pick atarget – the centre of Maren's abdomen – and slash her while she's vulnerable, my targetbeing hit with both knives at the same time. 

Gasping, Maren's face twists with pain. "I thought you liked pain," I hiss through gritted teeth. 

"I prefer causing it!" she hollers, jabbing her finger into my gunshot wound. Yelling inshock and agony makes Maren smile. "That's better," she assures, leaning closer to see my face construe with desperation.

"You're so ugly, I don't know how you could possibly look any worse," I dig, grippingthe knife in my right hand. Using all my force, I twist and slam the blade through her jawbone, blood pouring onto my knife and flooding her mouth. "I lied. You got worse." 

Maren tries to talk but she can't. Cautiously, she opens her mouth and I see I've alsopierced her tongue with the knife. "What? The knife got your tongue?" 

She croaks in response. Her severed artery, slash in her gut, and ever-bleeding jawbone wound took their toll. "Your famiwee..." she manages, speech odd with the impairment Iinflicted on her. "Would be 'issapointuh." I think she said my family would bedisappointed. 

I scoot next to Maren's body. A long time ago, in elementary school, I fell on theplayground and Maren helped pick me up from the ground. Did she wish my death then,too?

"You're right, for once," I agree. "My family used to say I should never wish death onanyone. They would be ashamed of me." Standing up, I kick her knife away and pick upEnzo's. Maren coughs up blood and it spills heavily down the corners of her twitchingmouth. "But Maren," I softly say before I find my edge. "I am not my family."

And with that, I raise my knife and bring it down to her heartless heart. Her bodystiffens and her eyes widen. I don't think me actually ending her life was in hercalculations. And now, she's finally dead.

A sob rises from my throat and I let it out freely. Clutching the knife, I use it to supportmy weight as I hunch over and cry. I've lost everything and everyone. My family is alldead, my longest and best friend hated me and tried to kill me – twice, and the one personI would've given my life for besides Makai has thrown my trust out my window viamurdering my friends. 

The worst part is that I had a hand in most of those downfalls. I was the one who helped kill Makai Keanu on accident. I was the one who, in the end, put a knife through my best friend. I was the one who wished Enzo was dead for all he did.

 All this hatred is burning up inside of me and even though I slaughtered Maren, I don'tfeel any consolation. Makai is still dead, Maren is still a traitor, and Enzo still killed my friends. And for what? For me. Because of me, he slashed Della, strangled Hanzo, and slitRio's throat. It's like everything I touch gets shattered.

My friends: murdered.

My fiancé: killed others for my survival.

My self-identity throughout this nightmare: broken from a shattered heart.

I feel like someone is inside of me, and all they're doing is ripping me apart and tearingmy insides to shreds. All I feel is pain and remorse and loss. Will it ever get better? Will it ever go away? 

 Sniffling, I remember Grayson and Kellin. Running down the aisle, I furiously saw at their ropes and they take off their tape. Before they can say anything, I hear sirens in thedistance: police sirens. 

"While I went out for Enzo's gun, I called the police," Grayson proudly informs. "Whereis that guy anyway?" 

 Just then, Ezio and Enzo, both bloodied and bruised, burst through the door. Eziobacks away, dragging a struggling Enzo with a knife to his throat. "The police can't get me. Not now," Ezio madly states. "Stay away or I'll kill him. I swear to God I'll kill him."

They make it halfway through the dark theatre when footsteps roll up the porch. The door is kicked open and policemen enter through the doorway. "Freeze!" a familiar voice orders, pointing a pistol at father and son. I recognize the voice as Sheriff Desario – fatherof the girl I just killed.

"I'll rip him open!" Ezio threatens, voice like a demon. His caramel hair sticks out all over the place. He's gone insane. Ezio's movements are jerky and forceful. The blade is cutting into Enzo's already bleeding neck.

His neck is already bleeding because he sacrificed himself for you.

He sacrificed your friends, too.

He's in love with you. He just wanted to be good.

But he was so bad.

Gripping the knife, I try to silence the voices in my head that revolve around Enzo.
 From the other side of the theatre; in the darkness with a fumbling grip due to slashedpalms, dizzy vision from the kick to the head, and a weak arm from the gunshot wound, Ithrow the knife.