WHEN YOU MURDER A CRIMINAL, you expect to be locked up too because that isn't how everything works. The only thing that kept me out of their jail was the fact Ruvée personally knew me and knew how he tortured me. It wasn't easy, knowing that I'd be facing her jail when she saw the video of me shooting Max but Alex still protected me even if he didn't need to.

"Mom, you can't lock her up," Alex protested, blocking her from the doorway. "She's eighteen and she's been in a traumatic incident. Besides, the bastard deserved it. After what he did to her? I should've pulled the trigger myself back when we rescued her."

"Relax, Alex," Ruvée stepped around him, taking the seat in front of me. "I don't plan on arresting you. I do plan on taking an explanation from you when I specifically said that you can only use it when he tries to attack you."

My whole body for the past hour after I have shot him was still even when I was experiencing flashbacks from the image of his blood scattered, his mouth agape, and eyes wide. He was dead and yet, it still didn't feel right.

"I should've shot his dick first," I crossed my arms, something that I did to feel like I was protecting myself even if it was just a simple gesture. "He's dead and I still don't feel safe. Ever since I got every bit of memories, I've not slept yet because I'm afraid I will dream about his body all over me and it makes me physically sick. Even if he's far away and alive, I will never feel safe. So, wherever he is right now, I hope he rots like the fucking sewer rat he is and feel how painful it is to have a bullet right between the eyes."

She merely stared at me, nodded, and pointed at Alex who was staying by the corner, watching us. "He'll drive you back home while I deal with this. You should get some rest, Sam. It's not easy, taking a life for the first time even if he is Max." As she walked back to the door, she turned her head halfway to me. "I'm sorry, Sam, for not getting to you sooner."

Everyone is always sorry. What does it even do to me? Does it make me feel better? No, it doesn't. What it does is make them feel better, that's the reality of it all.

Still, I shook my head and shrugged. "The cabin was well hidden and off the grid. No one could have known where we were. You've got nothing to be sorry for. None of you do."

And yet, everyone will feel like they need to be sorry about it. I never did like pity on anyone, and people just giving all they have of it onto me was only the tip of the ice berg of what I didn't want to have.

Alex and I walked out of the building, passing the stares of the men and women who wore suits and gun around their waistbands, without any word said to one another. By the way his face was contorted, I could tell that not only was he processing what happened, he was also finding a way of talking to me about it.

I killed Max. What was there supposed to talk about?

The second the doors of the car closed, he turned to stare at me. "What the hell were you thinking?"

I refused to look at him. "Can you just take me home?"

From my peripheral vision, I could see how he shook his head in disapproval. "No. I thought you were getting better. You said that you felt better at the hospital before you were discharged, and now you do something like this. Back there, you said that you remembered everything. We're not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong with you. What's going on inside your head, Sam?"

There was nothing I could do but just stare at the succeeding cars beside us at the parking lot. I had always talked to Alex about things I never even told Travis when we were together because he's seen things of me that no one else had.

He's seen me once, broken by Max and I've felt broken by him before but it has never like this.

"'What's wrong with you'," I repeated his own words, shrugging in response. "You, Sean, my father, Travis, every single one of you think that you needed to protect me from seeing myself in the mirror. What did you think, I was going to follow what all of you wanted? So, I saw myself and everything came back. All you guys want is for me to seek professional help, talk about what happened to me, tell me that if I did, it'll make me feel better."

Scoffing, I rolled my eyes and faced his amber colored eyes. "Tell me, if I talk about how my wrists were bound like I was a fucking animal, will it make it all better? If I talk about how he used to knock me out just to dress me in a robe that way he'd easily wound me all around my body, will the scars go away? If I talk about how he forced himself onto me even if I tried to fight him off of me, will the feeling of sickness I try to suppress whenever you or my dad or Sean or Travis or my other friends get close to me like this disappear? Will the fact that I'm going to have nightmares for the rest of my life suddenly turn into dreams?"

He stayed silent, unable to answer my question.

"Exactly," I turned back towards the glove box in front of me, gazing at it even if it didn't mean anything. "He gets to live and think that I wanted it all to happen, tell people and myself that I wanted it, while I suffer for the rest of my life. I'd rather have him dead than have him alive. Now, can you drive me home, now?"

He must've taken the long way to avoid traffic because when I got home, the sun setting down. We didn't speak to one another, I didn't bother thanking him for driving me when I got out, and I didn't watch his car drive away. I just heard the tires from behind driving away as fast as the car could.

Every piece of me was still sore, and what's worse that even if I knew that for me, it was right to do it—kill him, it didn't make any of it better.

As soon as I closed the door behind me, the first thing I hear are my father's footsteps running down the stairs. Even if I was wounded and broken, I could still see his hug coming a mile away. With my defenses up, I pushed his hands away before they could reach me.

His eyes flashed sadness and then concern in them but nevertheless, he nodded with understanding. "The company I work for is putting up a fundraiser this weekend and I was hoping you'd like to join me."

Fundraiser. A party. The last time I went to a party, I ended up in the hospital for the first time. Even though, it's unlikely for that to happen again, I can't deal with the memories of having him still dig inside my brain.

So, I said the first thing I came up with my mind, "I just killed Max just hours ago before I came back home. If it's okay with you, I'd rather not go somewhere for a while except for school tomorrow. You should just take your secretary. Also, can you not let anyone up to my room and if by any chance, Travis tries to come in, can you not let him in?"

Without another word, I went up back to my room, locking the door. Once I hit the bed, I immediately start sobbing into the pillow. That's how I managed to sleep that night.

* * * *

BUT I DIDN'T GET TO SLEEP ALL THE WAY. I woke up to my dad, Sean Alex, Travis—actually everyone in my life, banging on the door, yelling and threatening to break the door if I don't open it.

My eyes moved to the clock by my bedside table. 3:16.

"We have class in four hours!" I yelled out in frustration, feeling a heavy weight on top of my chest, and the sweat covering my forehead. Nightmare. "Either you all heard what I did and you want to talk about it or you just have a sick pleasure in making sure I miss a few hours of sleep. If it's the former, go away and if it's the latter... Go! Away!"

But it seemed like none of them had cared on what I said. They just continued to yell at me, tell me to open the door or they'll break it down. I knew better than to actually doubt Travis that he wouldn't do it.

I grabbed the hem of my shirt, decided to pull it up to my face to wipe the sweat at last minute. The second I unlocked the door, they twisted the knob and opened it by themselves. There, everyone—my dad, Travis, Sean, Alex, Tyler, Robbie, Lucas, and Riley—was standing in front of me with the same expression in their eyes. Concern. Fear. Confusion.

"Why do we need to talk about this at this hour?" Then, my mouth formed an o in realization as to what they were doing. I couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, okay. I get it. An intervention. Well, let's get started with me, shall we? I just killed my ex-boyfriend, I did that because I'd sleep better knowing I saw his dead body by my hand, and I'd rather not talk about this anymore. Now, either let me sleep or I'm closing this door and jumping off the window to find somewhere else to sleep."

They stared at me momentarily, probably thinking about how they'll approach what I had just said. Before I could even open my mouth to yell at them to leave me alone, it was Travis who decided to step inside my room, facing everyone. "Can you give us a minute?"

I rolled my eyes. "Great, I'm going to get scolded from someone who has even bigger issues than his ego."

Travis' eyes widened at my statement. I'm even surprised at what I said. I knew better than to say that to him and in front of everyone too but I couldn't help it. All they've been wanting to do is fix me, think that I'm a broken music box that needs to fixed so the ballerina can turn and turn again as the soft, delicate, beautiful, classy music plays.

Nevertheless, of how shocked they looked when they heard what I said, they still left me alone with Travis without another word, letting him close the door.

Once we were sure that they were gone, Travis only stared at me with his arms crossed across his chest. He was glaring at me, his chest heaving up and down possibly from his anger towards me but all I felt in the moment was...

Absolutely nothing. Because for the first time ever, I know that nothing will make this better.

"You can't act like this," He shook his head. "You decided to lie to your dad so you could kill your ex-boyfriend and you wouldn't have told us if it wasn't for Alex calling everyone here. You're supposed to talk to your family, your brother, me."

I scoffed. "You? You think this is something I should talk about to you? You think everything that happens to me, you should know? Sounds like ownership, Travis. You're beginning to sound like him."

"Fuck you," he spat, pointing at me. "I'm not like your asshole of an ex."

Shrugging, I couldn't help but chuckle at the hypocrisy he was giving me. "Really? Okay, let's turn this around for a second. Talk to me about your sister, Travis."

"What about her?"

My eyes narrowed. "She actually came to see me while my brother was keeping watch. I had him leave to get me food because, well, this was your sister and I wanted to get to know her with no one keeping an eye on me. She said, she never knew that you were capable of holding a girlfriend in your life so she wanted to see if it was true. We made small talk at first, but guess what she said next?"

Travis was quiet, his glare of anger was turning into something different. He was scared. For himself. For us.

It was in the afternoon. Sean had decided to cut school after lunch just to hang out with me and when the door opened, I saw the person I've been seeing at Travis' picture frames. She was a beauty. Her long brown hair bounced with such volume, eyes sparkled under the fluorescent light, the faint freckles that I saw on the picture frame wasn't so faint at all, and her red lips were smiling, a bright one.

"Hi, you must be Sammy," She waved a little. "I'm—"

"Elizabeth," I answered, matching her smile. "You're Travis' sister. That's my brother, by the way, Sean."

Sean waved, gave her a small, polite nod. "Does, um, Travis know you're here?"

She shook her head. "No, he actually doesn't. Can we keep this our little secret? If Travis knew I was here, he might shoot me for being a bad sister and not wanting to wait to meet you."

We laughed but we agreed. I decided to tell Sean to let us be and when he left, Elizabeth took it upon herself to sit at the couch right beside my bed, still grinning. "You're very pretty, Sammy."

"I look like shit," I chuckled. "You're the one that's beautiful."

"Thank you."

"Hey, listen, can you not call me Sammy?" Elizabeth's brows furrowed in confusion but I waved my hand to clear things up. "I'm Sam. It's Travis who likes to call me Sammy. He sucks with nicknames."

She laughed. "I know. Throughout our childhood, he would make up stupid nicknames on me until it was just Lizzie. You know, like Lizzie McGuire? He's very unoriginal."

Our small talk grew for a while. I didn't know how long I was talking to her—maybe about fifteen minutes now? Thirty? I didn't care. It was nice to talk to her, someone who didn't know me and was just getting to know me even if I looked like I was dragged all over the town. She didn't mind it.

But then, right after we laughed for a little about something Travis did when he was a kid, she got serious. "Actually, I'm here for another reason than to meet you, Sam. It's about Travis and our parents. I'm sure he's told you they're very difficult two people and would do anything to bend us to their will. I held out as long as I could for Travis, to give him his own freedom but my parents didn't want to entertain me anymore and they're planning something."

I blinked. Was this a joke? Was this a prank to get me to fight for you? But the more I didn't say anything, the more your sister did. "Do you have any idea who Molly Ares is? Or at least her last name?"

Nodding, I answered her, "Yeah. She's the famous heiress to their company. Ares Corp. is one of the powerful business running. I'm not much caught up on the details about it but all I know is that their direct competitor is your parents' business."

She shook her head. "Not anymore."

I was confused, didn't know what to answer or to ask. What did she mean by 'not anymore'?

"They're going to be creating a partnership," she answered my unvoiced question. "It starts with the pairing of Molly and Travis. Travis knows, of course, about the deal. My parents made it clear to him the second they got home. I'm sorry, Sam. I tried to get Travis out of it but they're not having it anymore. Sooner or later, you're going to have to let Travis go."

Travis shook his head, his hands darting out to reach me but I moved backwards, he stopped in his place. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. But I would have told you soon. Just not now."

"Why?" Now, it was my turn to cross my arms. "Because I'm in a state where I can't handle the truth and need to be controlled?"

He shook his head. There were such emotions in his eyes, it was hurting to look at him. "No, it's not that! You know, it's not about that. I just—I'm planning on defying them, telling everyone that the truth is that I don't care for Molly at all. All I wanted was you from the very start I saw you. You're my Sammy. I don't want to lose you because I love you."

"You all wanted me to be the same Sammy whom you all first met," I stated, shaking my head. "But what you all don't know is that I'm never going to get back there. I don't know if I ever will but that won't be your problem anymore."

His brows furrowed. "What are you saying?"

"You're not dumb, Travis." As I said those words, I could hear my heart beating so loud against my chest. I was hurting for some reason; it was like what I felt that moment when I left him to run away. My heart was breaking. This was the first emotion ever since the start of this conversation. "You have enough problems with your life. You don't need my problems mixing up with yours. What I'm saying is—"

"Please, I'm just asking you," Elizabeth's hand was wrapped around mine, her eyes softer than usual. "Don't give him more problems that he has. He needs to focus if he wants to survive this battle with our parents. Don't worry, I'll be with him, every step of the way."

"—we're over."

Was I supposed to be hurting like this? Was my heart supposed to feel like it's breaking?

Travis shook his head, he didn't care if I was walking backwards as he kept walking to me. What mattered most was that he would reach me and when he did, his arms wrapped around me, my ear pressed against his chest. I could hear his heart—how it's beating as fast as mine. "No, you're not doing this to me. We're together. We love each other. You can't just leave me."

My eyes widened. "Even if he isn't telling me about this, I can't just leave him. I love him. Whatever your parents' problems with him, I'm going to make sure they won't ever hurt him."

But Elizabeth only shook her head. "Don't you understand? If you keep fighting for him, you're going to be the target of their wrath, and if that happens, they'll manipulate him. They already know the surface about your relationship with him. All it takes is one threat against you and your family, and they'll be able to make him do anything. If you end your relationship with him sooner, they'll think that you're just one of the girls he hooks up with. We want them to think that.

"Just view this like you're protecting him, okay?" She squeezed my hand in comfort. It didn't help at all. "You need to do this. For him. He already has enough problems with our family, he won't be able to handle yours too if it ever comes to that."

And in reality, his sister was right. His parents were powerful enough to do damage towards us, and not only that, his baggage was already weighing on his shoulders. He doesn't need mine at all.

With my good arm, I pushed him back hard, making him stumble a few steps. His eyes were wide and already brimming with tears. He was crying all because of me. "From now on, I'm not your problem anymore and you won't be mine. Now, I need you to leave me alone because I need sleep."

He chuckled humorlessly. "You just gave up on this relationship in a second? Just like that, huh? I wish you never even told me that you loved me if you were just going to break my heart like this."

"What was I supposed to do?!" I was yelling now. The reason? I didn't know. Maybe because everything was hurting, maybe because I know that whatever I'm doing, I'm going to regret the second he leaves this room, or maybe because I know that even if I'm going to regret this, I'm doing the right thing. "I'm fucked up in different kinds of ways, Travis. You don't need me."

"In case you haven't seen me, I'm not exactly fucking perfect, Sam!" He matched my