Xaiver's words ring in my ears, and my body goes numb, and it's not from the skin-tight dress. Xaiver calls my name, but he sounds distant and almost nonexsistent. I stand on my wobbly legs; my face neutral. Then, Henry bursts into the room, pale and red eyed.

His gaze lands on me, and I wrap him in a hug. He wraps his masculine arms around my small frame, and I sob into his chest. Henry rubs my back, shushing me, yet I won't be shushed. Why would I be silenced in a time like this?

My best friend is dead.

Gone. Erased from humanity...murdered. I shiver at the thought and bunch my fists up in Henry's winter coat. I sob loudly, and I feel Xaiver joining in this hugging/crying/mourning fest. Tears fall onto my now exposed shoulder, but I don't care. I don't even look up to see who it is. Could be Xaiver. Could be his dad, I don't know.

"Jacy," I sob, hoping she'll burst through the door in her clubbing dress and wonder why we're all crying.

It doesn't happen. Instead, the door stays closed, and my sobs increase. Why did this happen to Jacy? Her, out off all people! Why couldn't it have been the bartender making lousy drinks? Why couldn't it have been the businessman that gets on everyone's nerves?

Why couldn't it have been me?

I continue to cry into Henry's jacket, but as I do so, I'm suddenly filled with anger, bitterness, and rage. My sobs stop, and I curl my fists into Henry's coat. Gritting my teeth, I look up at Henry with rage-filled eyes.

"Who killed her?" I demand. His face stays neutral, but his eyes widen slightly.

"Callie-"

"No! Henry, who killed Jacy?" I repeat, gripping on his jacket. He stares at me for a long time.

"I don't know, Callie. And even if I did, I can't give out information like that," he answers after a moment of silence. I let go of his jacket and snort.

"I didn't kill her," I croak, pointing a finger at him. "I did not kill my best friend." Fresh tears coat my eyes, and I briskly wipe them away. Henry looks sadly at me.

"Callie, I want to believe you, but do you have an alibi?" he asks.

"Yes," Xaiver cuts in, his voice small. "I was with her, when the shots were heard." He looks down at his shoes, suddenly very interested in them.

Henry stares at Xaiver for a minute or two and blows out some air. "Well, that's good to know." He looks at me. "Callie, you know we have to question you."

I nod. "Yeah...I know." Henry nods.

"It's late though. I'll come over tomorrow and talk then, alright? You need to rest. It's been a long day," Henry states, guiding me out of Xaiver's bedroom. I sniffle and wrap my arms around myself. My lace dress can only keep me so warm.

Xaiver waves to me, and I offer a watery smile. Henry and I walk downstairs and out the door. My heels click on the sidewalk as we walk to my house. We walk onto the porch, and Henry knocks loudly on the door. I hear my mother's footsteps inside, and the porch lights come on. Little moths fly toward the light, craving it. Oh, how I envy them. I wish I could see light. A bright side to this mess.

The door opens, and my mom stands before us in her purple robe. Her hair is thrown into a ponytail, and her eyes are heavy and dark. She yawns and observes us. Her eyes widen.

"Oh my gosh! Callie, are you okay? Henry, what did she do? Is she in trouble? Young lady, what are you wearing? It's like 30 degrees outside!" My mom rambles. Henry chuckles quietly.

"It's okay, Chloe," he assures her. "She's not in trouble. She was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Nothing to worry about." My mom eyes him for a minute.

"Callie, get inside." I hang my head and walk inside, without a word. I walk over to the couch and plop onto it, feeling the leather sticking to my skin. My mom hangs by the door, talking with Henry. She's probably asking about where I was or something.

I lean my head back against the cushion and close my eyes. All I can see is Jacy's face smiling and laughing. Then, the images form into ones of her screaming and bleeding to death from the killer. I open my eyes and feel sick to my stomach. I rub my eyes, slightly whining and hating life.

 The door closes, and my mom's feet patter on the floor. My eyes still closed, I know she's looking at me. I sigh through my nose and open my eyes. Her tired eyes glare at the floor, and her lips are pressed into a thin line.

"Go ahead," I say, my voice cracking, "yell at me." My mom's eyes meet mine, and she puts a frail hand to her mouth.

"I'm not going to yell at you," she says softly. "Callie, I...I'm sorry." I look at her surprised.

"Why are you sorry?" I question, sitting up a little. Mom sighs, and she takes a seat next to me.

"Callie, after your father died, I still wanted to give you a normal life. I know we don't have a lot, and I know you're going through a lot. I just...I feel as though everything is my fault. You're young, and you're still my little girl. You've been through so much lately, and it's forcing you to grow up. I don't want you to burn yourself out with all of this," she explains, taking my hand and squeezing it.

I look at her with wide eyes. The woman who has made so many sacrifices for me is telling me sorry? That it's her fault everything has happened?

"Mom, it's not your fault. You've been there for me, when everyone has turned their back on me. I know at the hospital you had doubts, but they weren't in me. And, I notice that now. Mommy, I love you," I tell her, my lip quivering.

Mom lets out a silent gasp, and she brings me into a hug. I wrap my arms around her, feeling like a child. She holds me tightly, trying to keep me safe from the world. I rest my face in her shoulder, just wanting my mom.

"Callie?"

"Hm?"

"I saw your list," she admits.

"What list?" I ask, pulling back slightly.

"Your personal investigation list." I look at her, waiting for her to say to back off or something. "And, I'm willing to help you."

My eyes widen. "Mom, I-" She holds up a hand.

"No daughter of mine deserves to be stalked and what-not. I'm going to help you, see if I can get information from Henry or something. We're going to find this killer and take him down." I grin at her.

Watch out, killer. We gonna get ya.