"My dearest love, I'm not done yet." -Hozier, In The Woods Somewhere

JAS DOESN'T COME TO SCHOOL the next day.

I try to text her, only to realize by second period that she's completely ignoring me. There's not any reason for her not to reply to my texts and calls; she's always on her phone. I decide not to get caught up on it. After all, I have other things to worry about today: I'm visiting Molly.

As I drive over to the Wilson's home, I feel my heart hammer against my chest. I have a feeling the minute I see Molly and Mr. Wilson, all I'll want to do would be to reassure them and blurt out Ford's secret. But I can't. The grip I have on my steering wheel tightens. It's not fair. Their family shouldn't be going through something like this.

I park my car in the driveway, getting out on shaky feet. I let out a deep breath to calm myself. No one's in danger. I'm not in danger. I repeated that to myself like a mantra.

I only have to knock once before the door is swung open. I come face to face with Mr. Wilson, not for the first time, but every time I do it's just as uncomfortable as the first time. Mr. Wilson doesn't bother to greet me, just grunts and opens the door up a little more, letting me know I come back. I give him a small attempt of a smile, which he doesn't both returning, so the attempt drops and I timidly make my way into the home.

Molly is sitting on the couch, her gaze glues to the wall in front of her, unfocused. She looks battered and beaten, her leg in a cast and multiple bruises scattered across her limbs. She barely acknowledges me as I enter the room, careful footsteps echoing off the thin walls off the room as I attempt not to trip over the usual clutter of the room.

"Molly?" I whisper, trying to catch her attention. Molly barely moves from her place, but I continue talking. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

Molly doesn't answer. I creep closer, hesitantly taking a seat beside her. I wait for Molly to speak, not saying another word. Just when I think it's hopeless, Molly whispers, "I could have died."

"I'm sorry."

Molly shakes her head. "I just want to know. I want to know who killed my mom, if my brother is dead and alive, and who tried to kill me. I want to know what my family did so wrong to bring this upon themselves."

Me too. You have no idea, Molly.

"I'm scared who they're going to go after next," Molly continues. her voice flat. She still hasn't turned to look at me ever since I've entered the room "My dad maybe? Though they don't have to, he's already dead inside." Molly lets out a shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry, Molly. You and your family don't deserve this."

"But somehow it still happens, doesn't it?" Molly finally looks at me. Her grey eyes scare me when a bitter laugh rips out of her throat. "Thanks for coming to visit, Ava. As you can see, I'm not exactly myself right now. I'd like to be alone. Why don't you come back later?"

I swallow roughly. "Of course, Molly." I tenderly lift myself off the couch, giving Molly one last glance, but she's already broken the small eye contact she's made with me. "Bye."

Molly doesn't reply.

I walk past Mr. Wilson, who is leaned against the doorway, eyes focused on his daughter.

I've never met a more broken family.

I make my way out of the house trying my best not to look back. When the door finally closes behind me, I can't help but let out a huge sigh of relief. I throw my head back, burying my hands in my blonde hair. Good God.

With one last breath of relief, I make my way back into my car. I swipe out my keys, frowning when the car won't unlock. I test the handle just to realize it's been unlocked the whole time. Huh, that's strange. I must have forgot to lock the door.

Getting in the front seat, I get myself comfortable and put my keys in, slowly pulling out of the driveway. I'm heading over to see Ford, so I begin to accelerate and drive out of Cailbridge.

It isn't until I try to brake at a stop sign and drive right past it that I realize my brakes aren't working.

Panic hammers in my chest. I press down on my brakes again, tearing my foot off of the gas pedal right away, but it doesn't do much to slow the car down. The brakes won't go down all the way; it's like something is nudged underneath it. I feel myself become distracted and have to quickly swerve, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I almost drive straight into a tree.

I unbuckle my seatbelt with one hand, the other on my steering wheel. I keep my head up as I drive, thanking God I'm driving in Barton's forest and there's zero traffic, and use one of my feet to check underneath my brakes.

Yeah, there's something underneath there. Something that was not there before.

I curse loudly when I realize I've missed my turn. There's nothing up ahead; just a cliff. A cliff I'm going to go straight off of if I don't get whatever is jamming my brakes out in the next two minutes. I try kicking it out with my foot, but it's not working. I grit my teeth, trying to keep myself calm. Breathe, Ava, breathe.

I bend down for a second, only to pop up again when I almost crash into a tree. I'm on a straight road, I remind myself. I just have to keep the steering wheel straight. I bend down again, one hand tightly on the steering wheel and the other going to find whatever is under my brake.

Feeling my car swerve to the left, I pop back up again and steady it. I notice I'm steadily going downhill. Shit. I'm speeding up.

My heart is pounding against my chest as I bend down again, shaky hands reaching for underneath the brake again. Finally, my hand latches onto something, and I yank it out so hard that my body slams back and the car loses direction. I throw whatever it is to the side, popping back up and slamming on the brake with all my might.

The car comes to a stop so abrupt it has me banging my head against the wheel.

I blink for a few moments, trying to regain myself. look to the passenger seat. Beside my purse is a crumpled tissue box. I've never kept a tissue box in my car before.

Taking a moment to steady my breathing and racy heart, I gather up the courage to look up. The cliff is just a few hundred yards ahead of where I managed to stop the car.

I drop my head against the steering wheel and sob.

x

"Hold still, Ava," Ford mutters, bringing the tissue up to my nose again. The whiteness quickly becomes coated with a deep red. "Breathe through your mouth, keep your head tilted down." His other hand travels to the back of my head, helping me. "Just like that."

Ford continues to wipe at my bloody nose, which I hadn't realized I had gotten when I had banged my head against the steering wheel in my abrupt stop. I follow Ford's instructions, breathing deeply out of my mouth and keeping my head tilted down. I'm sitting up on Ford's bed, Ford in front of me, one of his legs tucked in front of him and the other extended on the right side of me.

My body still shakes with tremors, a sob escaping my lips every now and then. It's been a good forty five minutes since the incident, but I've found myself unable to stop shaking. The moment Ford had saw me, barely unable to get out of the car, nose bleeding and eyes puffy, he had just grabbed me and took me to his room. I grip onto his arm, trying to express my gratitude, but I can barely talk.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you," Ford whispers, guilt laced in his voice. "I'm sorry I got you involved."

I finally find my voice. "Don't apologize. Please. This isn't your fault."

Ford looks away in time to blink tears away, before turning back with a fake smile. I know it's fake because Ford's smiles always reach his eyes and shine, but this one is bland.

We stay in that position for a good twenty minutes where eventually, my forehead just finds itself leaning against Ford's chest, watching the way his chest steadily rises up and down and trying to mimicking the calming movement until my breaths steady out.

Ford asks for my car keys and leaves me for a couple of minutes, only to come back again with the tissue box in hand. He turns it around in his hand, obviously finding nothing out of the ordinary with it, other than the fact that it almost killed me. He sets it down on the nightstand and settles behind me, his legs extended on either side of me, arms wrapped around my stomach and forehead resting against my spine bone. I play with the hole in his sweatpants at his knees, pulling at the thread.

"I don't want you getting hurt, Ava." His voice sounds small.

My other hand finds its way to my stomach, where I lay my hand over his. "I don't want anyone getting hurt anymore, Ford."

We're silent.

"Jas had been acting weird," I tell him.

"How weird?" After I explain it to him, he frowns against my back. "She wouldn't... would she?"

"I don't know," I admit, pulling at his fingers as it they were bowstrings. "I mean, she knows. But she didn't know before I got that note, and she seemed genuinely surprised when we told her. Jas has never been that good of an actress."

"We shouldn't underestimate her."

I don't reply to that. Instead, the hand that was picking at Ford's sweatpants goes to the tissue box he had laid on the nightstand. I play with it in my hands, frowning. A tissue box had almost killed me.

Absentmindedly, I take the tissues out of the box, though I'm mostly focused on Ford's soft breaths against my back. It's not until my fingers hit something paper that I snap out of my trance. Ford notices it too and swings one of his legs so both are on one side of me and scoots to sit beside me. "Ava?"

I take out the paper from the bottom of the tissue box. Opening it up, in the same handwriting as the first note that had been on my window sill was in, was two sentences.

I warned you, Ava. You just don't listen.

WHOO! This was an intense chapter c: Hope you enjoyed!

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