In the counselor's office, Kinsey and Stiles were sitting and listening to Ms. Morrell. He was lacing up his lacrosse stick while Kinsey looked down at her hands.

Stiles met Ms. Morrell's eyes. "You know when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out. It's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. But when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's -- it's actually kind of peaceful."

Ms. Morrell frowned. "Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments?"

"He held a gun to Kinsey, and shot her and our friend, so no, I don't feel sorry for him."

"Can you feel sorry for the nine-year-old Matt who drowned?" Ms. Morrell questioned.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "Just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim doesn't really give him the right to go off killing them one by one. And by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on Matt's computer. And not just of her though. I mean, he photoshopped himself into these pictures. Stuff like them holding hands and kissing. You know, like he had built this whole fake relationship. So yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what sent him off the rails, but the dude was definitely riding the crazy train."

Ms. Morrell smiled. "One positive thing came out of this, though. Right?"

Stiles glanced at Kinsey who still hadn't looked up before saying, "Yeah. Yeah, but I still feel like there's something wrong between us. I don't know. It's just like tension when we talk. Same thing with Scott."

"Have you talked to him since last night?" Ms. Morrell wondered.

Kinsey clasped her hands together, finally looking up. "I was in the hospital all night, so... Mom and Lydia would've liked me to stay, but I didn't want to. Mom made me promise to return if... Well, you know."

Her hands became interesting again as Stiles said, "I don't think he's talked to Allison either. But that might be more her choice, you know? Her mom dying hit her pretty hard. But I guess it brought her and her dad closer. Jackson? Jackson hasn't really been himself lately. Actually, the funny thing is, as of right now, Lydia is the one who seems the most normal."

"And what about you, Stiles? Feeling some anxiety about that championship game tomorrow night? Kinsey? How about losing a classmate of yours?"

Kinsey shrugged, remaining silent.

Stiles' eyes narrowed. "Why would you ask us that? Ah. Uh, no. I-I never actually play. But hey, since one of my teammates is dead and another one's missing, who knows, right?"

"You mean Isaac," Ms. Morrell said. "One of the three runaways. You haven't heard from any of them, have you?"

"No," Kinsey stated bluntly. "You know, usually a counselor writes things down. Where are your notes?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, how come you're not taking any notes on this?"

Ms. Morrell smiled at them. "I do my notes after the session."

Stiles let out a scoff. "Your memory's that good?"

"How about we get back to you? Stiles? Kinsey?"

"I'm fine. We're fine. Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible's about to happen."

Kinsey once again clasped her hands. "Nightmares and panic attacks... They're great."

Ms. Morrell glanced between them. "It's called hyper-vigilance, the persistent feeling of being under threat."

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