❝ I genuinely thought the worst of this nightmare was over ❞
Halle Brewster told a lie, and the secrets kept growing. After slaying one stalker, another reared its nasty head, and Halle was starting to wonder if she'd ever be free from the friendshi...
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"An eyewitness has stepped forward, and unconfirmed inside sources—"
Detective Darren Wilden, even in his uniform blues had a very punchable face. Halle thought that every time she saw him and she still thought it after his death. She was certain all her friends thought the same, too, a they hovered around in the Hastings' kitchen that earlier morning, after the hoedown, binging the local news on repeat.
The doorbell rang, and Spencer sprang up before she hurried off to go answer it. Unsuspecting, none of the friends had picked up on Halle and Emily, who kept catching each other's eyes across the island and smiling. They had secret of their own. They kept it between kisses and longing touches, moments alone and moments together.
"— say this witness has detail information about the crime and the parties involved. So far, the district attorneys—"
Coffee floated around the room while Hanna stood, with her back to the island, as she picked at her cuticles. She didn't touch her coffee. All she did was watch the screen intensely up until the point Hanna eventually reached her limit for the day and shut the television off.
"I don't get it," she said when she faced them. Startled, Halle and Emily stopped their smirks and refused to steal looks at each other like they had been all morning. Hanna, with her hands propped on the counter for support as she leant, asked, "Why would the cops want my mom to come in for a line-up if Travis told the truth?" Sadly, she was panicking again. "Do you think that A found a way to shut him up again?"
"Okay, Hanna," Emily rushed to assure her, "don't go there." She said, "Travis made you a promise, and he seems like a stand-up guy."
"Plus he's really cute," Aria inserted unhelpfully, musing over her coffee. "And he's quite the dancer."
"Because that's all we look for in a reliable witness," Halle sarcastically jested, rolling her eyes.
"It is for me," said Aria, then taking a sip of her drink.
Spencer, her face now ghostly, entered the room. With an iron-grip, she held tight to a box wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. She captured their attention immediately. "It's addressed to all of us."
"Well, that's settling," Halle put sardonically. She gulped, anxious, as she jested, "Should I call the bomb-squad?"
Emily locked eyes with her. "Okay, not funny."
"Sorry," Halle apologised sheepishly. "A-threats make me go to defensive-mode."
Pushing aside all that interested them prior, the group zeroed in on the box. Spencer laid it in the centre, each of them within an arm's stretch of it as they tore off the paper. They revealed a rough, wood box, black with the scratchings of a woodland scene on its lid. Lifting the lid, they were met with five Magic-Eight balls, their names along with numbers written in gold; Aria's was in the middle with the digit '5' upon it.
