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BEFORE THE INCIDENT - Summer '18

Arthur Beauchamp was a whirlwind.

A tornado of silver dyed hair and large, white smiles. I first met him when I sat on the low wall a few meters away from the edge of the Black Crag cliffs. They stood, imposing and deep, on the edge of Black Hill. The seawater was choppy and reflected the bright blue of the summer sky. Lost in thought, I bit my lip and worried over how my first day at school would go tomorrow.

"If you're going to jump, you must be a bit closer than that." The voice startled me out of my daze. I turned my head.

A boy stood, leaning against the wall I sat on. He looked only a few inches taller than my five-foot-six. The tips of his brown curls looked like molten silver. They matched his round grey eyes. I groaned, looking away.

"I wasn't planning on it," I said, frowning. "It's not good for your health."

He laughed. It was a bright, breezy thing. "It is a bit worse than that. Still, do you want to try it?"

He started walking backward, pulling his jacket around him tighter. Despite it being summer, a cold biting wind cut through the air. I hesitated. I didn't know if he was joking. The wildness around his eyes was too attractive to be dangerous.

"I'll take you down to the shops later, is that alright?" He called over the wind.

It whipped his hair around his face, and I took a deep breath, breathing in the salty air. The sharp sting grounded me, and I shook my head.

"It takes ages to get down there on foot," I said.

The guy made a face and gestured behind me. I turned around. My jaw fell open. What seventeen-year-old had a Bentley? I had known Black Hill was rich, but I hadn't thought the kids would also reflect it. They shone as bright as diamonds.

You don't even know his name.

But I could remedy that.

"I don't go flying off cliffs with anyone," I said. I stood up, kicking away a stray beer can. They littered the clifftop, as though nobody came up here to clean them up. "Who are you, then?"

The guy smirked and saluted me. "Je m'appelle Arthur Beauchamp."

"The Mayor's son?" My head reeled. Here I was, on top of the most dangerous cliffs I'd ever seen, with the Mayor's son. Arthur grinned and dipped into a bow. He was a buzz of energy, a thread of sparkling electricity that seemed to split reality apart.

"The one and only."

At the time, I thought he was a cocky little shit, but looking back I realised he was right. I had never met anyone like Arthur before. He had waltzed into my life and became the person I went to whenever I needed to feel free. We raced each other the few meters to the edge of the Cliffs. He seemed to glide across the ground while I tripped over every rock possible. The sea cried a warning call, but we didn't care. Arthur was pure recklessness, and I loved every moment of it.

At one point he pulled out a flask from his jacket pocket, and we shared the bitter taste of beer. It was warm against our cold lips. Since he didn't seem concerned about germs, I didn't bother being careful to not touch the lid. The warmth spread down my chest, settling in the pit of my stomach. The cold wind stopped being so cold, and my nerves disappeared.

We screamed into the void and watched as the sea caught our words. Arthur cursed everything he could think of; his mum, God, Black Hill. I yelled loud, unintelligible things. When we stopped, our throats raw and our cheeks flushed red, Arthur stepped back and laughed.

He picked up one of the shattered green bottles on the grass and launched it out into the empty space. We stood, silent until we heard the faint crash of it hitting the ocean waves. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, and I followed his frenzy. We gathered up as many bottles and cans that could fit in our arms and took turns trying to launch them as far as we could. He had experience with it, his launches cleared the rocks at the base of the cliff by meters. Guilt ripped and tore holes in my heart, through the haze of the beer. Mum was passionate about the environment. We'd done loads of litter picking and raising awareness in our old town.

But Arthur was the shepherd, and I was the sheep.

Giggling, we left the Black Crags and Arthur drove me down to the shopping district. I'd ever been since I had been too busy helping Mum fix up the house. There was this tea shop, Créme Milque. It sold cream buns and the best hot chocolate. Arthur's sister worked there, and she kept glancing at me through her dark fringe. I stood in one corner, trying not to fall over and get him in trouble.

"Arthur," she whispered, glancing over at me as she packed his order. "Are you drunk? Who the hell is that blow-in?"

That word again. Blow-in. Was it so bad to move into a town?

Arthur took his things, patted his sister on the head and we fell out onto the street, a cream bun in hand. He didn't give a toss what anybody had to say about me. I thought I loved him, then. Whatever was in that flask was strong. We must have been loud and obnoxious because heads followed us no matter where we went. Arthur flung an arm around me, pressing his cheek close to mine and made faces at anybody that glared at me.

That was when I saw her. Outside of Francine's, the dead-beat bar nobody of standards bothered with. She was old and her brown hair fell in limp tangles around her shoulders, streaked through with greys. She had one strange eye that was a piercing blue compared to her dull brown eye. Crust surrounded the blue one, thick, and yellowing.

Arthur followed my gaze. His face flickered, for a moment. Anger, muddled and thick, flew onto his features. It dissipated as fast as it had appeared.

"What you looking at, bitch?" He didn't scream. It wouldn't have been quite as scary if he had. No, his voice was cold. Icy. The old lady paid him no mind, her eyes trained on me. I didn't learn who she was until much later on when I met Emily.

She was the McMahon woman.

Somebody called Arthur's dad on us. Mayor Beauchamp came down in a state car and sent Arthur home in his Bentley. I got the honor of riding shotgun in the Mayor's car and got dropped off at home. Mum wasn't happy with me. When I walked in, she only shook her head and left me to my own devices. I knew it reminded her of what happened before, with Felix.

It reminded me. And I hated myself for it.

🌊

AFTER THE INCIDENT - Winter '19

The door slammed open and a red-haired kid from one of the younger years stepped in. Mr. Fischer paused and dropped the marker he was writing with on his desk. He pursed his lips, furrowing his brows.

"Jamie, when you're entering my class, don't ever slam the door like that again," he said.

Somebody down the back sniggered, prompting smiles and heckles from everybody else. I bit my lip, watching the face of the kid. He was panting, and a harsh flush had erupted over his pale skin, drowning out his freckles.

His watery blue eyes found mine. He lifted one pudgy finger up and pointed straight at me.

"Sorry, sir! Principle Keane wants her to go to his office immediately."

I stared down at my desk. I felt their curious eyes on my back. Confusion, hatred, pity. I didn't want any of it. I didn't need any of it. Taking a deep breath, I got up from my chair and grabbed my stuff. The weed girl, who I had found out was in my core classes, stood up from her seat next to me. She had somehow gotten it in her head that we were friends.

Ignoring her, I rushed out of the classroom and out into the hallway. The linoleum floors did little to dampen the natural echo Black Hill Secondary had. My footsteps thundered through the halls. Everything about me sounded loud. My heart pumped blood in a torrent through my ears.

What if I was getting expelled?

"Hey, wait up!" I glanced behind me. Zayn jogged towards me, her curls a floating shadow around her face. Zayn couldn't be her real name. It seemed too fitting - like she'd chosen it for herself.

"Stop following me, you weirdo," I bit out, forcing my legs to walk even faster. I hugged my books to my chest and tried to remember where the Principal's office was. This school was a maze of chess rooms and auditoriums.

Zayn caught up with me. I could see her unknotted tie flapping about from the corner of my eye.

"You don't even know where you're going," she said. She trailed bitten fingernails along the wall next to her and pushed me down a hallway to our left. The sign above it read;

Principal's Office

Dean's Quarters

Secretary Room

I huffed, rolling my eyes. "I don't need you to babysit me. I was doing fine on my own."

Zayn giggled. It was maddening, cute with a throaty undertone that most likely came from her smoking. I kept my lips sealed. Tension made my arms stiff and the back of my neck tingle. I couldn't hold onto my books, my hands were shaking so much. The hallway seemed to be closing in until the walls would squish the life out of me. I'd be happy, then. I wouldn't have to deal with this whole fucking mess.

My hip burned, the rub of the heavy plaid skirt burning the infected bite. I never inspected it each time I applied ointment to it.

I remembered the hallway, with its bright fluorescent lighting and echo. From my first day at school, when I looked for Arthur every step of the way. He never came to say hello. My skin prickled with sweat. Zayn glided on like the pinpricks didn't faze her.

An adult appeared. She leaned against the corner that led to Principal Keane's office, her head down and glued to a flyer. Her bouncy blonde hair and the atrocious bright pink polo shirt she wore seemed familiar. I paused and stared at the side of her face. I wanted to cry.

What is she doing here?

Linda glanced up, and at the sight of me she threw down the flyer. She screamed my name like she was shouting through a megaphone.

"It's her! It's the killer of our children. It's Annalise Madigan, the murderer!"

Zayn grabbed my arm, stepping in front of me. I wrenched myself from her grip. My mind flashed back to screams of 'LIAR' and sharp nails digging into tender flesh. Logs swam across my vision, murky like lake water. Something wet dripped onto my cheeks. Zayn gripped my hand.

This time, I let her rush me past Linda, and into a corridor of fresh hell. Almost fifty parents stood in a large cluster outside Principle Keane's office. When they spotted me, the heckles started. Hands stretched my jumper, nails dug into my tie. Somebody elbowed the infected bite and I screamed. Flashing pain blackened the edges of my vision.

It was so different from the wariness of the students. From the indifference of shopkeepers and the salon lady that cut my hair on the weekends. This was loud. This was real hatred.

I hadn't done anything.

Without pausing, Zayn barged through them, and I tried to keep up with her pace. She opened the door to Keane's office without knocking, and we slipped inside. The roars and chants bled through the walls, filling my ears. I wiped my tears from my cheeks.

A pair of soft, familiar arms wrapped around me. I looked up into Mum's face. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were wet.

"Mama," I said. "Mama they hate me. I was walking, and Linda was there and she called me a murderer and-"

"-I know, mija, I know." Mum shushed me. She turned to face Keane. "Why did you let those deranged gilipollas into a school? "

Principle Keane was a tall, wiry man with a face of trimmed facial hair. He looked like the typical Headmaster of an old, posh school. But he was young and determined to 'modernize' Black Hill Secondary. Which included letting middle-aged women heckle and threaten a 17-year-old girl, it seemed.

"Ms. Madigan, I can assure you I had no idea they would attempt anything like this." Keane picked up a pen and started flicking it around his fingers. "Fiona said they were in for the usual check-ups on their children. And it's tennis season, so many of their kids practice down by the courts, they love to watch."

Mum snorted. "You mean they have nothing better to do than go and spy on the achievements of children that are not their own. Save me your excuses Harold-" she raised a hand. He snapped his mouth shut. "Tell me what me and my daughter need to do to survive this."

Keane furrowed his brow, pen still spinning. "I assure you, Ms. Madigan, there is nothing to survive-"

"Why am I here?" I interrupted, pulling away from Mum. Zayn looked up from her place in the corner and smiled at me. I felt a wave of gratitude slam into me and nodded at her. Without her, I would've been standing out in the hallway like a tonto del culo, watching them all yell at me.

He sighed. "We all need to sit down for a moment. Miss Park, you may get back to class."

I shook my head. "She can stay here."

Keane's dark eyes found mine. He settled into the leather chair behind his desk, put the pen down, and rested his chin on his hands. "After what I have to say, Annalise, you will be glad I asked her to leave. Miss Park."

He gestured to the door. Zayn huffed, and strolled out of the room, slamming the door behind her. The roars blossomed for a moment before they died down. They had realized I wasn't with Zayn. Mum guided me to the high-backed velvet green armchairs in front of Keane's desk. His office was cozy, I would give him that. Rows of bookshelves towered around the room's walls, and greenery dotted every corner. I wondered if they were real.

"We've had local police investigating the lake recently," Keane said, his voice grave. I felt a trickle of fear drip down my back. Mum inhaled and held her breath. "What they found was disturbing, Annalise. Something like this hasn't happened to this school in years. I know you know what I'm on about. I'm sure you can agree that the townsfolk have a right to be angry."

I looked away because I heard the message behind his words. My brain was short-circuiting. I couldn't think.

They had found the bodies.