a frog plushie! It looked just like him!

Xander is the cutest three-year-old I know.
He's... probably the ONLY three-year-old I know.
Still cute, though.

I said cute four times. I think I'm running out of ink in this pen.

I watched as half of the page was covered in meaningless doodles. An eye, a nose, a random dog.

A woman bashing a man's skull with a brick.
What?

My eyes search for that again. I hadn't seen wrong. No, it was a (well-drawn) stick man having a fountain erupt from his head as a stick woman held up a square. And there was another. A man dragging the same figure away.

The first diary entry ended the next page. 
It had a cute goodnight ending. 
But the dating is what caught my eye.

August 23rd, 2010.

My birthday...

I had no idea what the hell had been going on in Sarina's life, but one thing was for sure. Tobias chose me because—completely or party—of the similarities between me and Sarina. The next few diary entries were about her day, about her life with the Hawthorne Boys. 

Sarina was very very loving to her boys.

In almost every page there were different handwritings, doodles and scribbles that gave the impression of multiple children. 

She was very fond of all of them. 
But her Raven was her dearest.

The lack of the use of Grayson or and nickname thereof led me to believe that her Raven was Grayson. The doodles matched. (See doodles as highly detailed sketches. How a child less than the age of 11 could draw such intricate detailings was beyond me).

Then came entry twenty-four, dated January 7th, 2014.

Something is changing. 

The old man keeps taking me away from them. He says I have to train. I know that... but how much? It's not fair. The others get to play his games. Why do I have to get different ones now? Lately, I've started to feel like there are eyes on me. 

Everywhere I go or look.

I'm getting media classes. He's dropping me out of ballet. I'm not allowed art anymore. Why do I have to do ammunition control? That's no fun.

Holy... I checked the year again, "Tobias made you do ammunition control at the age of nine—well, running but..." This was taking the turn that I expected. Though I did have a futile hope it wouldn't.

And isn't boxing for boys? I like Horse Hockey because of the Horsies but, I don't wanna do stupid martial arts. I've watched Kung Fu Panda, what more do I need?

That's not even the worst part. Tobias scolded Raven for being close to me yesterday. He never did that before. We always hang out. It's harmless.

Was Aunty Skye right? Mama said she never is.

The entry ended there. 
I flipped the page over, expecting the somewhat consistent pattern of entries to continue. I was wrong.

January 24rd, 2014.

Everything was a lie.

The sheer pressure the pen had been writing with was evident. Almost as if Sarina wanted the pen to bleed ink and snap in half. The shakiness of each letter showed either rage or... fear. In some words, even the paper tore through.

He lied. He lied. He lied. He lied. HE LIED TO ME. HE LIED TO ALL OF US! He's coming after me, and he won't stop it. I have to warn her but I don't know how...

He made me cut off his finger today.

He made me cut off his finger.

It felt labor to simply breathe. There were tear stains on the page.

I don't have enough time... How do I stop this? Can I stop it?

I hate it. I hate Tobias Hawthorne.

I hate Mama for ever meeting Tobias Hawthorne.

The next few pages were ripped. The scarlet stain ever present. My brain churned and spun with thoughts. Whirlpool, chaos. 

What happened in 16 days? What had Tobias done to her? What did he lie about? Seven months to stop what?

My mind was a storm. The fiercest of waves and the hottest of sons. A field of dying roses and towering buildings.
It all turned into the empty, vacuum void, when I read the last entry of Sarina Salva.

August 23rd, 2014,

Arlene. Read carefully.

You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into. You know nothing about who you are. You are not who you think you are.
The Red Stage is an organization far more than what meets the eye. The Stage is a part of the government and a part of the underground. The Stage is an experiment you will have no choice but to fulfill. People have reasons to fear it, Arlene. People have very good reasons to fear it.

I've tried to protect you from it. I'm a kid, but I'm not clueless. I know what is about to happen to me tonight. I don't... I can't tell the boys. They're key to it all. 

I don't want to do this. The Stage scares me. I am going to be their first.
Tobias was said so.

My blood is rotten and I don't have the power to drain it out of me. 

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see through the wetness in my eyes. I couldn't hold the book without it shaking in my quivering hands. 
I felt her. 

I'm terrified, Arlene. You don't know me or what I'm capable of but I swear, I will help you. I will find you and maybe we'll be able to stop this crazy organization. I just needed some more time...

The only thing I don't have.

You are not the Deadly Doll. You are better than that Arlene. You are your own person. You are what I could never be. So please, don't hide from them. Please find them before it's too late.

I can't trust anyone here. I can't trust myself around him when the world will fall apart. 

Find the Stage.

Find it. He'll have all your answers.

And if you can... Find me.

I really hope Nan can save this till it gets to you.

Before I say goodbye, I know my real name.

I'm not Sarina Salva. I'm my name, broken salvation past tear. You know. You've always known.

After all, you're Arlene ▇▇▇▇▇

Singed. The final page was singed in half.
The book stared back at me.
The page stared back at me.

The final piece of text, mopped with black, stared back at me.

I wished I was blind.

TOBIAS IS NOT IN HIS GRAVE

·······•✦•······

For the first time since an eternity ago, I wished I had my bodyguard with me.

Now, of all times, was when I wished I had Oren with me. I felt naked. Open to the world. Like every wall watched my every sprint and the ceilings heard my panicky breaths. But then again, now was also the most grateful I had been for him listening to me and being with my sisters.

The Hawthorne Manor was at times unfathomably large. Its twisting halls, secret pathways, and whatnot overwhelmed once. But not this time.

This time I was prey of an invisible hunter.

His portraits followed my desperate running form. His decoration mocked my wild, ruined hair.
The dead man laughed at the sheer amount of fear coursing through my veins.

 What was I so afraid of?

I found them. They were arguing, but they were together. I needed them together.

"Avery!" I had missed that name. I hadn't gotten much of a chance to.

Those beautiful brunette locks, that soft face, and curious eyes. I didn't deserve to be even a foot near such innocence. Such purity. Such perfection. And I couldn't afford selfishness.

"Leena?!" She was enraged. Not at me and at me at the same time. "Oh you little shit, where have you been—?!"

I'm a selfish woman. 

My arms wrap around her shorter form, holding her so tight I could've snapped her in half. I was well capable of doing so. 
Strong enough to snap a human with ease but not enough to keep my knees from buckling.

I wanted to be weak. I wanted to be so weak.

"Leena?" Her voice didn't help, the concern didn't help. Nothing did. Even the look of pure and utter worry in Oren's eyes as he ran up to me didn't help at all. So I pushed her away. Physically, for now.

"Hawthorne." I looked towards Oren. That single word seemed to rip itself out of my throat. "Was he cremated or buried?"

The look on Oren's face was priceless, really. If I hadn't been scared out of my wits, I would've searched for Pretty Boy's Camera.

Pretty Boy. I'm sorry.

"Arlene are you out of your mind—"

"Yes, precisely." I wrap my hand around Oren's wrist. Tugging him with a child's urgency, "Please, John. I'm begging you, tell me." The desperation in my voice was noticed. I didn't beg. But I did nonetheless. 

If, by any chance, he's...

My grip tightens. I will not let them be played. 

"Buried." He breathed out, his eyes wide as if he himself wasn't believing he was saying any of this, "Buried a few blocks from the House."

The House? The Hawthorne House? I didn't even wait another beat before demanding him to take me there. I didn't waste another heartbeat shattering at Avery's face.

I didn't have any to waste.

"And bring men and shovels."

·······•✦•······

"What are you doing, you LUNATIC?!"

Skye's voice was appreciated. Sometimes you need your ears to bleed to distract from the sticking out bone from your leg. Metaphorically.

What I was doing, was watching my security team dig the grave of Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne. In front of his family.
Maybe I was a lunatic.

"Arlene stop this madness right this instant!" Zara screamed. Zara, the cold, composed sister, looked just about ready to burn me alive. 

My men kept working. 

Oren kept instructing.
Ezra kept holding back the Hawthornes.

I kept quietly watching, waiting for a skeleton to run up and slit my throat.

Call me insensitive, dramatic, and more, but I needed proof. I needed evidence for me to believe any word written in that diary. She knew so much about the stage. Her name wasn't hers. She was going to be their first before her end.

She knew my name even before I knew of her existence.

"Leena," I didn't turn back. I knew who I was going to meet eyes with. I don't think I'd be able to lie to Nash. "Leena, stop it." He growled. The brothers were here. Only two, I wonder where the other two were.

I hoped they never come.

Xander looked absolutely crushed by what I was doing.
After all, if I was watching some girl who took everything away, grave dig my very dear dead Grandfather's grave, I would be too.

Thankfully, my parents and grandparents were dead.

"You insolent, little brat!" The blonde woman fought rigorously against Ezra's hold. Libby's lips tried to morph into words, but Nash's uncharacteristically cold glare shot her down.

I kept watching soil leap in the air.

"You think that just because you have his money, you can trample on his memory like this?! You've twisted him into your puppet, and he was so lost that he fell for your deceit. You've taken everything from him, and even in death, you won't let him find peace. How can you be so heartless?" Her words sliced through me like a knife. "Let him rest in peace at least, you monster. Is shattering this family truly your only ambition?!"

"Oren!" Zara calls, "Stop her, you work for this family! This is wrong, and you know it."

Good girl, Arlene. You've dragged your bodyguard into this as well. Splendid job.

The dark man had an expression as dark as him. But he said no words in protest. It wasn't his job to question orders.

Clank! The shovel hit it. 

My heart hit it. 

When Jameson Winchester Hawthorne called my name. My 'real' name. "Arlene." Avery was by his side, his eyes were on me. He looked different, defeated. The spark in his eyes died down as if hoping I was going to protect it. Instead of blowing it out.

There was a chance. A chance that what I was on was completely off. That I was completely and utterly stupid with my theory. That Sarina was just a very troubled child. And if that chance became a possibility, and that possibility a reality...

I would lose everyone. 

Oren put a hand on my shoulder, telling me without words that they dug it out. 

He walked ahead. I did too.

Since when did I care so much about Sarina Salva? Since when did I want to go back to the hell hole I was freed from? I may have been offended by him for letting me rogue like this, disposing me off like a used toy beyond repair. But wasn't a part of me relieved?

Relieved from the torture? The blood?
The nightmares? The struggle?

So he wanted his Doll back. That could be a lie. Sarina could be a lie. This could be a lie.

Which truth do I believe in when I myself am a lie?

Meters away from the pit, I was yanked back.

He caught my wrist, roughly spun me around to face him. His gaze like the burning sun in a cloudless sky. The glaring ocean in the brightest light. His nose brushed against mine. His body was too close. 

His eyebrows too furrowed, his jaw too set and his grip too tight.

"Why?" Grayson Davenport Hawthorne asked simply. Nothing more needed to be said. And yet a thousand of the gravest insults would have stung less.

Why was I doing this?
For evidence? Why evidence? Because I cared? Why did I care? I didn't know?
Why why why?
My brain wouldn't stop thinking. My ears wouldn't stop ringing.

He uttered the worst possible word he could to me then.

What could I have possibly answered to that?

I didn't. 

My hand moved in his grasp, landing so gently on the skin of his cheek. The cold of my skin sent shivers down his spine that did not go unnoticed by me. The warmth of him had the same effect on myself. Gold drowned in silver once more. I couldn't convince him, persuade him. It would be a futile attempt. My hand dared pull his face a centimeter closer.

"Please, Grayson," I said his name again. The same way I had done in the ball. The same way that made his shoulders tense, his muscles taut but his eyes... his eyes would always soften. "You have to trust me."

He didn't have any reason—none at all. But he let his fingers loosen. His head leaned barely a fraction into my touch. As if wanting to savor the cold before the heat burns again.

I had to rip my eyes away from his. My lips mouthing a soft 'thank you' before I ran. I ran into the pitch, jumping in without Oren or anyone. My eyes flickering with newfound haste. 

The casket lid was heavy, but my muscles apparently didn't give a shit and threw it open almost effortlessly. My eyes immediately drank in the revolting sight in front of me.

I had done much worse things than killing. But I haven't ever killed. 
I haven't ever seen a dead, decomposing body.

I have no idea how long it has been since Tobias Hawthorne passed away. I have no idea how long it has been since I got thrown money upon my head. I have no idea what today's date even is. 

But seeing how his body was almost skeletonized, it had to have been well over a month. His body. Skeletonized, but still his body.

If I was expecting disappointment, confusion, or rage, I was proven wrong. Relief spread through my entire being. I was happy to be wrong. Just this once. I might lose every Hawthorne's little trust I managed to gain over time. But this was much more important, or so I told myself as I took Oren's hand and leaped out of the pit.

"Seal it," I said to the wind, refusing to look ahead into the distraught family.

"Did you find anything?" Asked my bodyguard for the first time. I supposed I should at least give him some clue on what the hell was unraveling. 

"Nothing." The lightness in my voice shocked him more than the actual answer.

Only momentarily, albeit. Oren nodded before going down himself to close the casket. I looked at the hateful looks of the Hawthornes. Perplexed ones of the girls. I was sure that was Tobias Hawthorne's body. 

His face, with something of Xander's and Nash's chin. His build like Jameson's, tall and lean. His dead, silvery eyes I dared not open but knew well would be like Grayson's

Grayson. My eyes met his. There was something about those grey pools that became unreadable to me. Yet behind that curtain of control was a storm spiraling.

I wonder if I could feel his chaos with the tip of my finger.

Finger.

'He made me cut off his finger'.

Boom.

"Oren!" My head practically whipped around. I didn't care if I screamed for a man who was barely five feet away from me, "Oren, check his fingers." No. Calm down. I couldn't calm down. 

Oren, god bless him, immediately did what was told, no questions asked. "Ten." He replied as sure as ever. 

I think I was as sure as ever my earth just stopped spinning. "Check again." My voice dropped into a nervous, frantic whisper. "Silicon, fake finger, plastic, finger cover, anything!"

Oren ducked back into the pit and came up with a solemn look, "None. All ten fingers."

My heart took bungee jumping as a professional sport. So that meant...

"That's not the body," I let out a breath I never knew I held in. "Oren, do you get what this means? That's not Tobias Hawthorne—" 

Slap. 

A soft, smooth palm collided as hard as rocks with my cheek. The bruises blossoming turned the redness of embarrassment completely gone. 

"Enough," Skye growled. Somehow even the wind stilled at the rage of a Hawthorne. "Enough with this dramatics. Enough with this disrespect, you have gone too far, Arlene Amira Grambs. Too far. This will no longer be tolerated."

She yanked my wrist and was about to drag me away. She started to instruct my men. Override my orders. 

"Hey," Avery stormed over, "Why did the hell did you—"
Skye's hand met my sister's face. Skye's hand met Libby's face. So bad, it was bruising. No... no my Libby's beautiful face was bruising, hurting. She was shaking. No. No. No. No.

"Calm, girl." A familiar O'Day spoke. When she came to the scene was another question. "Let go of her." 

"But, Nan—"

"I'm not talking to you, Skye." 
Oxygen is overrated, who needs to breathe anyway?

"Arlene. Let go of her."

Oh right. I was the one holding Skye Hawthorne's wrist.

And I almost snapped it.

"Ms. Hawthorne." My voice changed. It was higher. It felt as if I was a spring coiled up, ready to pounce. As if I was more alert. More hyper.
More murderous.
Murderous was actually a great word to describe my voice, because I had that. And the biggest, brightest most innocent smile on my face. 

"Who the fuck do you are to touch Liberty Elen Grambs, you fucking bitch?"

·······•✦•······

If I murdered my brother-in-law's mother in front of him, how many aura points do you think I'll lose?

"Arlene, calm down." Libby got in between me and Skye. 

"Did you know, Skye," Nan walked over as if on a casual morning stroll, "about the man Drake Sanders?"

A muscle in Skye's face tensed. Libby's entire existence tensed.

"Do you have any idea what Ms. Grambs did to him when he simply laid a hand on Ms. Libby in front of her?" Oh, I remember that. "She broke each and every one of his fingers. Then his arm. And proceeded to twist said broken arm to the point of almost permanent damage. All in two minutes or under."

Skye Hawthorne went as pale as the sky. "Now would be a wise decision to step