Jacy spent most of the morning working on my makeup. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her hands worked restlessly on my face and hair. Once she starts, she can't stop.

Jacy finishes and beams at me. "You. Look. Amazing!" she gushes. I smile shyly at her.

"Well, let me see!" She puts a mirror in my face, and I gasp.

This girl staring at me is not me.

Her curls are delicate and full of life as they caress her pale face. Her pale complexion beams at me, no blemishes or freckles in sight. Her cheeks are rosy, making her seem sweet and innocent; the blush is just right. Her ruby lips are plump and are glossy, but not too glossy. Then I look up to her eyes. The mascara, eyeshadow, and eyeliner are simply perfection to her eyes. The green in her eyes overpower every other perfection on her face. Her eyes are like healthy grass on a cool spring day. Her eyes.

"Callie?" Jacy asks, bringing me out of my thoughts. I snap my head to her. "You were zoning out on me for a sec, so what do you think?"

I look from her back to the girl in the mirror. "I love it!" I squeal, getting up and hugging her.

Jacy laughs and hugs back. "Yay! I was hoping you would!" 

I beam at her. "So, now that I'm all dolled up, what should we do?" I ask.

Jacy purses her lips and thinks for a moment. "We should dress up for the heck of it!" she states slapping her knee.

I nod firmly, and we run to her closet. Clothes start flying everywhere, and we start laughing and giggling. We start having a mini fashion show, dressing up in all kinds of ways: tacky, cute, what-the-heck-are-they-wearing, elderly, childish, and so on and so forth. 

Then, Thomas busts into the room. Jacy and I stop our laughter, once we see the look on Thomas' face.

"Turn on the T.V." he gasps, his face chalk white.

Jacy rushes over and turns it on. Thomas quickly changes it to the news.

"In other news, police are really cracking down on the White Rose case. No killings have been reported, but a sea of white roses have flooded the local bowling alley. The roses cover the entire alley filling each lane with pieces of paper on each of them. On each paper, one thing is written."

A picture of a white rose with a unfolded note fills the screen.

"C.R.T. let's play."

My heart stops. Time slows down. I hear Jacy call my name, but it's all muffled and distant. The room starts spinning, and I'm not there anymore. I feel my legs wobbling, panic seeping into every pore in my body.

C.R.T.

That's my initials.

I see Jacy's panicking figure as she rushes toward me. Then it goes black.

~~~~~~~

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Stupid alarm.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Why won't it shut up?

I'm entranced in a world of darkness, struggling to open my eyes. I hear voices, but they're distant and muffled. My head hurts like heck, and I feel weak.

I open my eyes, and squint at the sudden brightness. I move a shaky hand to my face and wait as my eyes adjust. Once they do, I see I'm in a hospital room. I look around and see balloons, flowers, and stuffed animals with "Get Well Soon" written on them.

Coughing a bit, I sit up.

"How did I get here?" I think.

Then, the door opens, and my exhausted looking mother peeps her head in. Her gray eyes widen at the sight of me, and she rushes to me, engulfing me in a hug. I feel her tears splashing onto my neck.

"Baby girl, are you okay?" she whispers, still hugging me.

"Yeah," I croak.

Golly, I sound like a frog. 

"Want some water?" she asks, pulling away and sitting on the bed. I nod gratefully.

She pulls a water bottle out of her purse and hands it to me. I open it and drink the heavenly substance. I watch my mom wipe some tears off of her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" I ask, voice still gruff but not froggy. She gives me a small smile.

"I've been better," she admits.

"What happened?" I ask, setting the bottle on the nightstand.

"You had a panic attack, while you were at Jacy's. You ended up collapsing and hitting your head on the table, which caused you to start bleeding. Thankfully, Jacy's mom closed the wound, while paramedics were on their way," she explains.

My mouth forms a tiny 'o'. No wonder my head hurts.

"When can I go home?" I ask.

"The doctors think tomorrow," mom answers. I nod and settle back into the bed.

The door opens at Henry walks in. He smiles and nods at both of us. "Hey Callie, how you feeling?" he asks, closing the door.

"I've been better," I say, quoting my mom.

He chuckles and stands at the foot of my bed. "Well, we need you good and well, so you can be good ole' Callie again."

I smile and nod.

"Now, Ms.Chloe, I need to speak with your daughter alone," Henry states, becoming serious.

"O-Of course," mom says, getting up. "I'll be out here if you need me."

"Thanks Mom," I say, waving. She smiles weakly and walks out of the room.

"Callie, where were you last night between five to eleven p.m.?" Henry asks, pulling out a notepad.

"I was on a date," I answer, fiddling with my fingers.

"With whom?"

I bite my lip. "Matthew Martin."

Henry looks up from his notepad slightly shocked. "Really?" he asks. I nod sheepishly.

"Where was this date?"

"The bowling alley, but we left right before seven thirty," I explain. Henry nods.

He puts the notepad away and stares at me deeply.

"Callie, you know that for each death and-or place you were there, correct?" he asks.

I swallow a huge lump in my throat. "Yes sir."

"Do you know what this means?"

I nod, fear and anxiety kicking in.

"It means I'm a suspect."