I open my eyes to find myself lying on hard concrete. What happened? Slowly, I get to my feet and look around. I can recognize this place as somewhere in Moorwood but I can't pinpoint the exact location. Then I spot someone's leg jutting out of a bush. It kind of looks like Gaia's. I walk towards it, giving the leg a small tug and it wiggles around a bit. Gaia's head pops out of the bush. "Huh? What happened?" she slurs.

"Here let me help you," I offer and stretch out my hand to her. The moment she takes it I feel a sharp pain in my head. "Ah, my head!" I groan, accidentally letting go of her. She roughly falls back into the bush. "Really?" she sighs. "Sorry, my head just... hurts."

"It's a hangover idiot... do you not know anything about being a teen?" she asks, getting out of the bush. "I'm not used to these things and you know that," I snap.

"Alright, alright... let's get you home drama queen."

We take a quiet stroll back to our street and we part ways at her house."By the way, I never got that mafia guy's name."

"You don't need it," she states and shuts the door in my face. Geez do you have a crush on him? I'm curious to know if there's another side to that guy because as he is, I can't believe he's a ruthless mafia boss.

I stroll down the block to my house feeling on top of the world until I open the door. Standing next to Margo is the demon herself. Mrs Sian-Marie.

She spreads out her arms awaiting a hug. "Cassi, I missed you so much."

No... this can't be happening. Not here. Not now. Everything was perfect. Why did you have to come back? I can feel the traumas of my childhood rushing back in. I can't go back to living like that. "Christmas is ruined!" I yell and dart up the stairs. I walk into my room and slam the door. Okay, I know that was a bit theatrical but come on. She just had to walk into my life and ruin my momentum. I thought for once that everything was going to be fine.

A gentle knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. "Go away!" I demand and fluff on my bed. Then I grab my pillow and press it over my face releasing a muffled scream. By all means, I have to let out my frustration on something. Maybe I'll take a stick of gum and chew it as hard as I can. That should work.

"Cas... you know what you did wasn't so nice," Margo fusses through the door. "Just mind your business! You have no idea what's going on or what I've been through."

"Okay fine, just open the door."

"No! I know that person is standing next to you right now! Tell her I don't want her here! Tell her to go back to London and never come back! I was doing perfectly fine without a mother," I fume.

"Sweetheart," my mum calls out. "Okay I know I haven't been the best mother over the past years... but I want to make up for that. So I decided to use this year's Christmas as an opportunity to bury the hatchet between us. Please... I haven't spoken to you in years... I miss you."

I roll my eyes. "Okay, fine I forgive you... can you go now?"

"But I only just got here... even if it's just for a day I want to be with you once more." Oh, stop being so cheesy.

I get up and approach the door, placing my hand on the knob. I know I shouldn't do this 'cause I'm almost certain she hasn't changed. But she'll never leave until I answer her. I open the door, not bothering to make eye contact with her. "What is it?"

"Please give me a chance to redeem myself. I just want a fresh start."

"That's so easy for you to say. It's so easy for you to move on and want a fresh start because you aren't the one who was hurt. You aren't the one who cried every night after Dad left! It was me! And I'm certainly not ready to bury the hatchet. Not now, not ever!"

I brush past her, storming down the stairs. "Where are you going?" she asks.

"To a friend's," I state, exiting the house. I just really want to be anywhere except here right now. And I know the perfect place to go.

•••

I knock on the the large wooden door and it creaks open. This being my first time visiting, I don't know what to expect. I just hope I don't see any corpses.

I amble into the house and shut the door behind me, scanning the home for any sign of Ace. He doesn't seem to be here.

"Hi there."

My breath hitches as I spin around. "You almost scared the crap out of me," I snap. But he flashes me a victorious smirk and walks past me. "My bad," he says. "Let's discuss in the dining room."

He leads me through an arched doorway into a spacious dining room with a long mahogany table that could seat at least twenty people. "Don't mind all the dust," he says, settling in one of the chairs. I pull out a seat and dust it with my palm before taking a seat.

"So, I did some research on your dad... do you know he's missing and is being accused of illegally selling cadavers?"

"Yes, I'm fully aware," he states. "Don't bother with him though. He's the last person that would have wanted me dead."

"And why is that?" I question.

"Let me get straight to the point," he starts, his tone serious. "My father was a murderer. He killed my mother because of the insurance money she had."

I can't help but ask, "How could you live with a murderer? Weren't you scared he would come after you too?"

He leans back, resting his cheek on his palm, and smiles. "That night, he told me to get in the car. I didn't know where he was taking me until we arrived at an isolated house down the street. He handed me a gun and ordered me to go inside and kill the young couple living there."

I raise my eyebrows in shock, tilting my head to the side. "Did you really do it?"

He shrugs, folding his arms behind his head. "I did, although I didn't want to. It was either that or he would have killed me. I had no choice."

I scrutinize him, searching for any sign of emotion, but he seems indifferent. I thought my childhood was tough, but this guy's story is on a whole different level. "What happened after that?" I ask.

"I went inside and shot them. Afterwards, I heard a baby crying. It hit me that I had just taken away its parents and most likely its future. But what could I do? I wanted to live so badly. But looking back, it was all for nothing, wasn't it?"

I nod, agreeing with him. "Yeah, it really was."

He continues, "He took the bodies and dropped me off at home. Every time he returned, it was to drive me to another location and force me to kill another innocent person. He would send me the locations of his next victims when he wasn't around, making me do his dirty work. People in town started moving away, changing schools out of fear of the deaths happening around them. He was grooming me to become just like him. I wanted to escape, but he always knew where to find me, whether I was at a friend's house, school, or hiding in a bush. I felt trapped, with nowhere to go."

He pauses, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "Then one night, the police came looking for my dad. I lied and said I didn't know where he was, but deep down, I wished I did so I could escape. They monitored our house, but he never returned. One night, as I slept, I heard the door creak open and three gunshots. They were aimed at the back of my head. I didn't see who pulled the trigger, and at that moment, I didn't even care."

He rises from the chair with a fluid motion, his eyes fixed on mine. With a flick of his wrist, he beckons me to follow. Curious, I get to my feet and trail behind him. He leads me up the stairs and down the hallway, into the room I first saw him. "You probably didn't notice because of the black sheets, but they're stained with blood," he says. I slink toward the bed, spotting a dried pool of crimson. I follow the trail of blood with my eyes, and it leads to the dark rug and stops at the threshold of the door.

"What happened here?" I mumble.

"I didn't call 911," he states. I thought I had enough time to pay one more person a visit and I was so upset I wouldn't make it. But now that I think about it... it wasn't so bad after all."

I gaze at the trail of blood, imagining the desperation he must have felt as he crawled towards the door, knowing his life was about to end. It must have been unbearable. "What was it like, knowing that you were about to die?" I ask.

He lets out a bitter laugh. "It was bittersweet," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's all I can say." He saunters to the window and sits upon the sill, crossing his legs.

I guess his dad wouldn't have wanted to kill him since he was doing some of the dirty work, so I'll cross him off the suspect list. "So, who do you think could have done this? Is there anyone you know that hated you to that extent?" I ask.

"A lot of people hated me," he states. "So even if there was someone capable, I wouldn't know."

I raise a brow. "Why did so many people hate you?"

"Because I was a bully and I used girls for my own gain. I was obsessed with popularity and status, so I looked down on anyone who wasn't in my friend group."

So basically he was the male version of Chloe. I wouldn't mind launching three bullets into her head if I was given the opportunity. If he treated so many people that way then the possibilities are endless, I have to take another route. "Who were your friends?" I ask.

"What? You think one of them would be involved in this?" he laughs. "Well, maybe... don't you think at least one of them would know something?" I ask.

"I don't. But I know at least one of them that could help. His name is Levi Hargreaves, black hair, 6'2, arrogant and perverted."

Perverted? I'm not sure I'd like to meet him. But if he can help me out with this case then I'll give it a shot. "So where is he?"

"I don't know," he shrugs.

"Well how will I find him then?"

"I don't know that either and I've given you all the information I can spare, so I guess you can figure out the rest yourself."

I slap my palm against my forehead. "You really haven't told me much, you know?"

"Ugh, what else do you want to know? My star sign? I already told you I have no suspects in mind and I even had to share my dumb childhood with you. Could you just leave?" he fumes.

I roll my eyes. "You're acting as if I'm not trying to help you here. If you're not willing to share a few things then you shouldn't have bothered asking."

He crosses his arms over his chest, his brows pointing downwards in anger. Then his expression softens and he releases a childlike giggle. "You almost got me angry," he smiles. "If we're going to solve this case, you and me will have to get along, and for us to get along, you'll have to watch your mouth. Is that okay with you?" he asks with a sardonic grin.