"How many more are there?" I ask, overwhelmed.

"I don't know. But here is another one."

This girl has gotten me I don't know how many presents.

Not just me, though. She has gotten everyone I don't know how many presents.

But I've definitely gotten more, ha.

Obviously, there are plenty of clothes she sewed, but she also gifted me jewelry, hand crafted cards and flowers, cologne, and a video game.

Crazy.

What did I get her? A set with jewelry; a necklace with her initial, a bracelet, a ring, and a pair of earrings. And a handwritten letter because that just fits the theme, you know? But it still doesn't compare to all the things she did.

At least I've got the trip to Greece planned. That's something.

Thinking about all of this makes me feel really guilty, though. I'm thinking about some trip to Greece and how many presents someone got me while everyone else is probably grieving.

I am grieving, too. But again, I didn't know Evie that well. It was a shock and I had this sad feeling the first few days, but now I no longer feel that sad—oh lord it sounds even worse when I say it in that way—and I just feel sympathy for the rest.

"Finn has said a lot about you all so I hope I was a bit correct with what I got." Another present gets pushed in my hands. Then Sylvia hands everyone a package, all of them different sizes and different colors.

Mine is blue.

How did she know that?

Anyway— she's very kind. Finn introduced her before dinner and presents. She shook everyone's hand as they told her their name and then she was like "Oh, yes, you're the one who achieved this and that, right? Finn told me'.

She is a tall girl—not taller than me, Finn, or Minho, but still tall—with silver hair, a few darker tints here and there (obviously it's dyed. I don't think she really has silver hair). It's cut to just past her chest and it's straight.

Her style is simple. Just a shirt and jeans. But, because she seems to like Sage and Sage seems to like her, that will soon change. Sage tends to lend all her clothes to anyone who asks and she is always open to giving fashion advice.

I start opening my present. It's some kind of mind game; nice, and luckily not excessive.

"Thank you," I say gratefully. Sylvia gives me a simple smile in return.

"Aaa!" A yelp escapes from Sage. "Thank you! I literally needed these exact ones!" She leans in to give Sylvia a hug so tight it surprises me. "Thank you so much."

I peek over at her present, eyes squinted.

Some needles, neatly tucked in a tiny pink bag, with a white, elastic band holding them in place.

Oh my God! Needles! That is so cool! I have never seen those before!

Sorry.

Not saying that the present isn't good— because it is. I just find it funny how Vi manages to make it sound like Sylvia gave her a whole TV.

She got Mom a massage oil, Aris a book, Minho a water bottle with his initial,—for when he goes running, she said—Dahlia got some cook equipment and the two dads stuff to fish with. Finn has gotten multiple things he already opened a while ago.

"I got you something, too." Sage takes a present from below the tree and hands it to Sylvia.

It's a dress, made of gray woolen material. The long sleeves are puffed. It looks like it hits the skin just above the knee.

It looks beautiful, even though it's casual.

Then more guilt hits me. I didn't bring Sylvia a present. This morning was the first time I even heard she'd be present.

My eyes meet Vi's. I force a smile, which soon turns real at seeing her smile. Then she turns back to Sylvia.

"It's from Thomas and I," she says.

Woah.

Why is she giving herself less credit?

Never mind— perhaps I shouldn't comment on that but the fact she did this for me.

I give a wider, realer smile, and she smiles back just as hard.

"Thank you, guys," Sylvia says. "I love it."

Shockingly enough, Minho then gets up without a word. He presses something in Sylvia's hands, walks over to grandma Cynthia, presses something in her hands as well, then sits back down.

Sylvia looks a bit confused at first. For some kind of confirmation, she glances at Finn, who nods, so she opens the present. Cynthia opens it at the same time.

Both of them have received a small box. Lego flowers they can build themselves.

"It was originally for Evie," Minho says, his voice surprisingly loud and controlled. Then looks down at the ground, like he's been doing the whole evening.

I truly don't know what to do to help him other than taking care of him like a normal human would, and giving him hugs now and then.

Both women give him a firm hug, which he doesn't really return, but accepts, and they thank him.

☯︎︎

"So, Thomas, how's it going at school?"

I was waiting for one of my uncles to ask that. And all the aunts are gonna ask about my love life anytime soon.

And indeed, an hour later, when Christmas Day's dinner is finished, all those subjects have come aboard.

"Thomas, honey." Mom clears her throat. "I forgot important ingredients for our dessert. Would you bother getting them as we clear the table?"

Better than the whole interview, I guess. So I obey.

It's already dark as I walk through the streets. I could've driven to the store with Dad's car, but starting that thing and parking it takes almost as much time as walking.

The twenty-four seven open grocery store is almost completely empty on Christmas Day's night, except for the guy behind the cash register. I grab the things I need, pay for them, and put them in the bag I brought.

"Have a good night," I tell the guy before I walk outside.

I hear some kind of swoosh past my ear. At first, I shake it off with the thought of it being the wind, but then I see something in the wall beside me.

Jeez— an arrow.

Why the hell is there an arrow pierced through the wall?

Even better question, was it aimed at me?

Must've been. There is no one else here.

Apollo is the next God, isn't he? God of healing, sun, light, and many other things... like archery.

Great.

While ducking and holding my hands against my head to protect it, I start sprinting back home. More whooshes beside me, but I'm either too fast or their aim is just too bad for them to hit.

Once I've reached an alley, I stop. This is my chance to find out who it is.

But from where were they shooting? I think it was above, but I'm not sure.

No one was running behind me, at least. I didn't hear any footsteps behind me. Nor was there a sign of movements on the ground.

Breathing heavily, I peek past the corner of the alley; nothing there.

I look at the other side of it, but again, nothing. Has someone decided to be funny? Is this just someone playing with me?

I look up.

There they are.

A black silhouette. The moonlight reflects onto the silver of the arrow they're holding. Well, I don't know if it's real silver, but—

Whoosh, another one flies right beside my ear, smashing into the wall and then landing on the ground.

I squint my eyes. The figure doesn't seem extremely tall, though it's certainly not short. It's thin for sure. But that could also be shadows making it seem like that.

What do I do now? Yell 'reveal yourself' like a little kid?

When another arrow comes towards me, I start running back to my house. Maybe that was the better option in the first place.

Just as I'm about to clutch the plastic bag tighter in my arms, an arrow gets shot through it, and the lemons roll out. The plastic then rips completely, and I'm left with nothing but a flard of it. All my groceries are on the ground.

I want to pick some of the things up, for the sake of Mom, but the shooter's shadow comes dangerously close, so I give up. They're on roofs of houses, jumping from one to another.

Again, I'm running. Running with whooshes beside of me and my heart beating in my throat.

There's a sharp pain in my side and I stop right away. Look down. With a clenched jaw, I rip the arrow out. No hesitation. Then I look up at the shooter, who's face I can still not see, and I throw the arrow back at them.

I guess having a dart board at home was good for something, because I think I hit them in the leg. Not hard or deep, but I still hear some kind of cry. It gets taken away by the rough wind and I can't tell if it's a male or female.

Then I continue running, hands pressed to my side. Warm, thick liquid compared to the few raindrops sticks to my hands. Besides all the blood, it doesn't hurt as bad as I thought getting shot with an arrow would.

Or that's just the adrenaline.

Eventually, I'm up the hill. Hesitation furrows my brows. I could go to my house, but then everyone will jump on me with worry and I will have to go to the hospital, which I don't want to, because that means the police will also interfere with me, and the police don't exactly like me.

And I don't like them, so no. Not an option.

Guess I'll traumatize Sage, then.

I make my way to the side of their house, to the familiar hedge. Before I will go to Sage, I'm gonna have a peek at Aris's bedroom. To see if he's even there. And if he is, if he's doing something suspicious.

If he isn't, there is a chance he was the one up the roof.

I'll have to pay attention to his leg. See if he limps.

With a lot of groans and puffs, I reach the window. This is clearly not going as smoothly as always, but okay, I did it.

He's sitting at Finn's desk, typing in a not so rapid pace. I can't see anything else but the outlines of an email.

I don't think that's very suspicious.

So there I go, to Sage's window, wiping my hair out of my face. It's getting long and it hits me in the eyes whenever it falls down. Annoying as hell.

I knock on the window a few times, careful to use my elbow so blood doesn't get on the glass.

No reply. Are they still celebrating Christmas Day? They don't have family over; most live in Korea. She could be downstairs. That'd suck.

I knock again. And again. And again.

By the time the curtain moves, my arms hurt from holding onto her window's edge.

Her face appears. I expect her gaze to soften, but she jerks away from the window, yelping. Then she opens the window so roughly that I flinch.

"Hi, Sa— Jesus chr—" For some reason, she slammed the window back closed, and my fingers happened to get between it.

My mouth drops open in pain. Feels like my knuckles just got crushed between a wall and a window (probably because they did). When she opens the window again, I'm no longer able to hold onto the edge. It hurts almost more than the arrow.

My other hand was pressed against my side, so now I've got nothing to hold onto.

Which means I fall!

Into the bushes below. And even though that softened my landing a little bit, it didn't do much. A branch hits me in the stomach and then something slashes against the side of my face.

"Thomas?" She peeps from above, almost like a scared little mouse. I groan, attempting to hold up my thumb, but everything hurts. "I'm so sorry. I didn't recognize you, with the blood on your face and all..."

Shouldn't have wiped my hair out of my face.

"Eh, you should come in. If that's still... possible."

"Yeah," my words are muffled against my shoulder. I'm biting the material of my shirt to keep myself from crying out. "Just give me a minute."

Indeed, a few minutes later, I'm in her room. She's gaping at me as if she thought the blood was fake at first. Well, surprise!

"What happened?" She asks. The concern is worse than ever. I almost enjoy hearing it.

"Got shot with an arrow," I groan out, pressing my back against the wall for support.

The worry fades for a quick moment. "And where is that arrow right now?"

"I pulled it out."

"Oh my— you idiot." She pulls me up from the ground so roughly that it hurts. "And my wall!"

I turn my head. There's a blood stain on it.

"Matches the red paint," I say.

The flat palm of her hand connects with the back of my head, and I wince again. "Sorry," I say.

Then the worry is back. "We need to go to the hospital," Vi announces.

"No!" A shriek yelp escapes from me before I explain the whole police situation.

"Well, I don't really know— wait, I do. Sylvia told me about how she sometimes treats Finn's injuries and that he once faked one just so he'd get touched by her."

Hm. Good idea.

"Okay. Let's get you to the bathroom. Is your hand okay?"

I hold it up. "Bruised, I think."

"I'm so sorry—"

"It's fine," I assure fast.

She wraps an arm around me for support, and together, we walk to the bathroom, our pace so slow it's almost disturbing, even though we can't do anything about it.

As she fills a bowl with water, I wait against the bathroom wall, which I am allowed to sit against.

"Take off your shirt," she says.

Huffing and puffing, I manage to do it. But barely. After that, it's like all the energy in my body has been sucked out.

"Okay." She crouches down in front of me. "Relax."

Her touch is surprisingly gentle as she starts dabbing a warm, wet cloth against my side. I watch her eyebrows furrow in concentration.

"Why were you outside?" She asks.

"Had to get some groceries," I murmur. "What God is next?"

"Apollo. He's of archery, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

"What did you do?"

My eyes open. "What do you mean, what did I do?"

"Why would the killer want to kill you?"

I shrug. "Why would the killer want to kill Evie? Why would the killer want to kill Mr. Keller?"

She tenses up and for a second, I'm afraid I said the wrong thing. "I guess you're right."

"But they missed Ares."

"Huh?"

"Ares," I say. "No one died. Not that we know of."

"Well..." she trails off, eyebrows furrowing deeper. "Your mom received a call that your... grandpa is dead. Beaten up."

"Oh."

That's all that leaves my mouth and all that I feel.

It also feels wrong to not feel sad. It's not like I wished him dead, but right now, I don't feel broken or anything.

"Anyway," I clear my throat. "Is it almost done? It stings."

"No. And this is just water. We need to disinfect with some alcohol, too. Who knows how dirty that arrow was?"

"Oh, please no." I sigh.

She tilts her head to the side. "Or we go to the hospital. We should really go to the hospital, actually. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"No, no. Keep going," I reply.

With some protests below her breath, she dabs the cloth against my side a few more times. I wince. Then the disinfection appears from under the sink.

She puts it on a big cotton pad. I have a suspicion some of these things belong to Finn.

"Ready?" She asks.

"No," I say.

A few seconds of silence. "Ready now?"

"Nope."

"I'll count from ten to one," she says. "Ten, nine, eight..."

I take a few deep breaths, absolutely not ready. This is going to sting more than anything.

"Five, four—" And then she connects it with my wound without giving a warning. She said she'd count to one!

I bite my cheek and clench my jaw as hard as I can, but nothing keeps the sounds in pain to escape from me. "Stop," I say.

"No. I'm not done yet."

I throw my head back, as if that's going to help. "Please— a break? This is— oh my gosh." My eyes automatically squeeze shut when she uses more force. "Viviette, it hurts— wait just a second... fuck."

It's like taking a lemon bath with paper cuts all over your body. Like disinfecting your hands without knowing that there's a small cut on your hand, except that cut is a hundred times bigger.

When she removed the cotton pad, it still stings.

"Okay." She grabs a clean cloth, wringing it out below the tap. "Almost done."

Sage presses the cloth against my side. It's warm, and a relief compared to the first two steps of this process. I close my eyes. Am able to sense her smile as she kisses my forehead. "See?" She says softly.

Some kind of drowsily hum is all I can reply with.

A knock on the bathroom door. "I want to shower," Minho says. "Why are y'all doing it in the bathroom?"

"Doing it?" My eyes wide. "We're not doing anything—"

"Whatever. Just hurry," and then his footsteps go down the stairs.

Sage shrugs, even though her cheeks have gained a blush that wasn't there before. "I'll put one of those big band-aids on it, then you have to rest."

I nod, out of breath. "Thanks, Sage."