Lying on her side, Casey stares at the silver pendant of an infinity symbol she holds in the palm of her hand. It glistens from the light on the ceiling fan above as she runs her finger running along its curved edge, thinking about the day Riley had given it to her. Her phone buzzes from the nightstand and she doesn't even need to look at it to know that it's another call from him. Hence the reason why it is set on vibrate.

Standing in her doorway, Peyton worriedly watches her through the cracked door. Although Casey has yet to talk to her about what had happened, it doesn't take much to tell that something is seriously wrong, especially when she had overheard her crying in the shower this morning. A knock comes from downstairs and she turns to walk away, stopping for a brief moment to examine the yellow caution tape that now decorates the opening in the railing overlooking downstairs.

Not hearing a thing, Casey continues to stare at her necklace, her finger now grazing against the chain. She remembers when he took her and her sister out to the arcade, challenging them to a game of laser tag. Despite his naturally competitive side, she knows that he purposely threw the game to let them win. That and the fact that Peyton had somehow managed to morph into a cunning ninja during the game, sneaking up behind the enemies in full-on stealth mode. Smiling, Casey remembers when Peyton had playfully jumped onto his back to stop him from shooting her. She screamed at the top of her lungs, as if in real combat, and reached over his shoulders as she struggled to take the gun from his grip. By this point, Casey had managed to sneak around to the other side—taking out one of his teammates on the way—and, when she reached them, emptied her clip on him until the sensor on his chest piece began to flash red.

Their reward: Pizza.

Riley took them out to eat at the new Italian restaurant in Duncanville that, over the past few weeks, Casey had been hassling him about visiting. After their celebratory meal, the trio had a zombie movie marathon in Casey's living room. Although the sight of people getting their faces munched off must have seemed so appealing, most of Casey's attention was drawn to the new gift dangling below her neck. She couldn't keep her hands off of the pendant, constantly looking upon it as to her it symbolized their love. At least she thought it did.

Exhausted, Peyton had passed out next to them on the couch that night, her head leaning against Riley's shoulder as she snored lightly. Instead of excusing himself, his arm fell asleep as he didn't want to wake her. This warmed Casey's heart, seeing someone care about her sister to such a great extent. It may have just been a small selfless act on his part, but to her it was much more than that. She didn't just find a guy that cared about her, but for her family as well. A rare combination in her eyes.

A light tapping comes from the door, pulling her back into reality—one without Riley—and she glances over to see Peyton.

Leaning against the doorframe, Peyton peeks back in through the narrow crack in the door. "Hey. Someone's here to see you."

"Again?" Casey sighs, laying her head further back on the pillow. At this point she really wants to roll over and suffocate herself with it. "Tell him I still don't want to see him. I just—I can't."

"It's not Riley." Peyton pauses, her tone sounding surprised by her own response... and she is. Riley had already tried to visit Casey and check up on her several times today, but each time she had to turn him away. The worst part is that she still doesn't know the reason why. "It's Taylor."

Sitting up in the bed, Casey glares at her attentively as color fills her cheeks. Not her normal blush however, but more of a flustered red. By her expression, Peyton finds it hard to tell whether she is taking it as good or bad news.

At the front door, Taylor stands nervously on the porch. A shadow passes by from the other side of the window and, for a brief moment, she suspects that it is Peyton returning to nicely turn her away. Instead, the door slowly opens to reveal Casey peering at her from the other side.

"Hi." Taylor says anxiously, not sure where to start. "Casey, I—"

"You're supposed to be my friend." She cuts her off, immediately jumping to the point, her tone cold and face reading betrayed. "How could you keep something like this from me?"

"I'm sorry! It wasn't supposed to be like this." She steps forward, nearly choking on her own words. "We didn't tell you because we wanted to keep you out of it. We just wanted to keep you safe."

Scoffing, Casey shakes her head as she leans against the door. Her ankle is still stinging, even though she had already raided her father's pain medication earlier. "Safe? Yeah. A lot of good that did." She steps, or limps rather, out onto the porch. Taylor can't help but notice that she's in pain and not just emotionally. "He almost got her, Taylor. That sick fuck almost got Peyton!"

"I'm sor—"

"Yeah. Yeah, you are." Casey responds, referring more to Taylor's sorry judgment than acknowledging her feelings. "Just leave. I really don't want to talk to you."

Feeling her eyes beginning to swell, Taylor takes a step forward. "It was an accident!"

"The bus..." Casey stops herself as she pictures the crash and Daniel's body, how it must have looked splattered across the pavement—haunting just to think about. "That was an accident. But lying about it and not going to the police... Now that was a choice."

Taylor pauses, not quite sure of how to respond as she knows that there is no excuse for what they did. Or didn't do for that matter.

"And what about Kris? Huh?" Raising her eyebrows, Casey stares at a speechless Taylor. "Is that why you befriended her all of the sudden? Couldn't take the guilt of what you did to her and her family?"

Still silent, Taylor knows that everything Casey is saying is justified. She finds the words but takes a moment as she musters the courage to get them out. "Please don't be mad at Riley. He's the one that wanted to call the police that night."

"But he didn't." Casey shakes her head, looking aside as she reflects on the night of the attack. "And one mistake, one night... It can change everything."

Stepping back, Casey turns around and reaches for the doorframe. She uses it for support as she slips back inside the house. Turning around, she gives Taylor an agitated glare as she reaches for the door handle. She's clearly finished with this conversation.

"Please don't be like this!" Taylor pleads, praying that she can somehow find a way to convince Casey to talk this out. "I was—I am just trying to protect my brother."

"Trying to protect your brother or yourself?" Casey sighs, knowing deep down that Taylor didn't intend for any of this to happen. But she sure as hell caused it. And, because of the mistake they made, she almost lost her sister. A simple apology won't change that. "Just go away. You're dead to me, Taylor."

Never seeing her friend emit so much hatred, whether it is directed specifically at her or at the situation itself, Taylor finds herself stunned as Casey slams the door shut. The silver plated door knocker clinks as she stands there, still staring at the door as if she could see through it to the other side.

She turns around, eager to walk as far away as possible, but finds her legs grow weak. Stumbling back, she hits the front door and slides down it to the porch as she feels the tears taking over.

All this sorrow—this anger, this pain—that she has been struggling to hold in is finally emerging. Gazing up at the balcony that shields her from the sun, she pulls at the back of her neck as she comes to realization that by trying to protect everyone she cared about, in one way or another, she has lost everybody she loves.

Inside the house, Casey turns away from the door to see Peyton lingering at the bottom of the staircase.

Although truly attempting to tune in on her conversation with Taylor, as she's curious about what is really going on, Peyton acts as if she had just come down the stairs no more than a few seconds ago. Instead of thinking of an excuse to make it look like she's not prying, she brings up something that has truly been concerning her all day. "I thought Mom and Dad were coming home."

Casey forces a smile. "They are. They texted this morning telling me their second flight was delayed, but they should be home tonight. Just in time for dinner."

"Okay." Peyton says, her tone reading both disappointment and worry, before turning around to head back up the stairs.

Still standing at the base of the staircase, Casey listens to Peyton's footsteps and waits until she hears the bedroom door shut before turning around to walk down the short hallway to her right. She stops at the first door across from the living room, pulling it open to step into their parent's master bedroom.

She passes the wooden bench at the end of the bed to approach the weathered oak armoire, tugging at the small handles to open both of the long doors to see her father's more sentimental belongings neatly organized inside. Already knowing what she is looking for, her hand slides underneath the third shelf until her fingers touch metal. She pulls at the small knob, opening the hidden drawer to reveal a handgun. Next to it is a fully loaded magazine.

With his phone held up to his ear, Riley slams the door shut behind him as he steps inside of his room. Although not surprised, he lets out a frustrated sigh as the call reaches voicemail. He drops the phone to his side, not wanting to leave Casey yet another desperate message begging for her to call him back.

He steps toward his dresser, setting his phone on top of it alongside the usual clutter. As he peers up, he catches his reflection looking back at him in the mirror mounted above it. Staring at himself, he wonders how he could allow this to happen. If he can't find it in him to forgive himself for the night of the accident, not even considering the aftermath, then what makes him think that Casey would ever offer him forgiveness? It's not like he deserves it.

Abruptly, he screams as he runs his arm along the top of the dresser and knocks everything to the floor. His fist tightens as he catches another glimpse of his reflection and, starting to cry, he looks back to punch the mirror.

Glass shatters on top of the dresser, shards pouring onto the floor around him. Ignoring the small cut on his right knuckle, he grabs onto the edge of the dresser and closes his eyes in an attempt to control his temper.

Breathing heavily, he allows his hands to lower to the top drawer on the dresser. He clenches onto the edge of the drawer and pulls it halfway out, opening his eyes as he looks down at what appears to be neatly folded t-shirts along with a few pairs of clean rolled-up socks tucked in on the left corner. He snatches up a gray pair of ankle socks which, for a moment, looks no different than the others until he unrolls it.

Riley holds out an open palm at the sock's opening just as a black, leather box slips out from inside of it. Tossing the sock aside, he gently cups his hands together to get a better hold of the box, turning around to sit on the edge of his bed.

He carefully runs his finger along the curved edges of the case, feeling the texture of the seams holding together the upholstered leather padding on top of it. The dimensions of the box itself are rather small, it's compact size not able to hold very much.

Except maybe a ring.

♫ ᴀᴍsᴛᴇʀᴅᴀᴍ / ᴄᴏʟᴅᴘʟᴀʏ ♫