The group laughed and chatted as they sipped punch. Ophelia and Emily had been awarded enough scholarship money to cover all of their college-related expenses for the next several years.

“Maybe even into grad school,” Ophelia remarked, tossing her empty cup into the trash can.

“Yeah, that’s pretty cool,” Tiffani said, grinning. She and AJ had earned enough scholarship money to pay for the next few years of college, and to her, that meant escape from her family.

Emily looked around, puzzled. “Hey, where’s Ms. Gibson?” she asked.

“I think she said she had something to do. Some errand, I think,” Charise spoke up.

“Oh.”

“Hey, it’s getting kind of late,” Ophelia said, glancing up at the clock. “I need to get going.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll call you later,” Emily replied.

“Cool.” Ophelia walked out, humming to herself.

“Kind of funny,” Tiffani mused. “Angela wasn’t here. And she didn’t win anything, except for, you know, the typical ‘participation in an extracurricular activity’ trophy.”

“Yeah, so?” AJ asked.

“Well, it’s kind of weird. I was thinking, maybe--”

“You’re not going to believe this,” Ophelia announced, slamming the door against the wall.

“What?” Emily asked.

“Some jerk slashed my tires. Four flats. I swear, I hope the b*****d who did it drops dead!” Ophelia snarled.

“Calm down,” Charise said, patting her cousin’s shoulder. “You can catch a ride with me and S and Gideon.”

“Thanks, Char. I’m just really ticked off. I mean, one flat, I can chalk up to maybe rolling over something, but four… what the hell did I do to deserve that?”

“Maybe someone doesn’t want you to leave,” Emily joked.

“Yeah, what, some killer is going to get me if I leave the school?” Ophelia asked, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, it happens in the movies.”

“Know what always confused me about movies?” AJ spoke up. “Ever noticed that if a couple gets naked and all, they almost always get killed not too long after? Do you think maybe the bad guy just is ticked that he’s not getting a piece of the action or--”

“AJ, shut up,” Emily interrupted.

“Hey, I might be on to something here. Might be an interesting thing to look into.”

“Damn it, AJ, shut up about the monsters killing the naked teenagers!”

“Psychological thing, maybe.”

“AJ, shut up!” Ophelia and Emily yelled.

“Was it something I said?”


Ms. Gibson stepped out of the car and peered at the tire. Several large nails had embedded themselves into the tire. She smirked a little to herself, then looked over at the light pole a few feet away.

“If I didn’t know that was going to happen, I might have crashed,” she muttered to herself, chuckling bitterly. “Oh, well, I know what I need to do.” She shrugged and began walking. Let’s see, she thought. My house is about five blocks away. It’s about eight-thirty now. So, that means by the time I get to the place… yeah, that’s about right, then.

A scrawny, pale man with disheveled hair stepped out from an alley. He was shaking, and as Ms. Gibson approached, she noticed the marks on his arms that indicated that he was a regular drug user. She smiled warmly as she walked past him.

“Hey, lady,” he called out.

Ms. Gibson stopped and turned slowly. “Yes?” she replied.

“Got any money?”

“Sorry, I’m broke.”

“Come on, lady, I know you’re loaded, dressed like that. You’ve got to have some money. Anything. Even some change would be nice.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any money at all,” Ms. Gibson said firmly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must be going.”

The man roughly grabbed her. “Look, lady, I ain’t kidding. I need some money now, you hear me?”

“I don’t have any. I’m being honest.”

“I know a liar when I see one, and lady, you’re about to find out what I do to liars.”


“Guys, lock your doors, just in case,” S instructed. “I knew I should have taken a different route. I totally forgot they’re doing construction around here. Plus, this is a bad neighborhood.”

Ophelia squinted through the window, seeking any threats that could be lurking in the shadows. She frowned when she saw someone sprawled out on the ground. The light on the pole nearby was burnt out, but something about the figure worried her.

“Pull over,” she urged S.

“What?” he asked.

“Damn it, pull over. There’s someone on the ground over there.”

“So, we’ll call emergency services or something,” Charise said. “We really need to get out of here. There’s drunks and druggies around here. Probably just someone who’s passed out drunk.”

By the time she’d said this, Ophelia had already opened the car door and had run over to the person for a better look. She peered down at the person, then yelled back at the occupants of the car, horrified, “Oh dear God, it’s Ms. Gibson. Call the police now, damn it! Charise, get over here. You know how to check pulses and all better than I do.”

Charise nodded at S and said, “Call now. I’ll see how bad things are. Make sure they know that it could be really serious.”

“Right.”

Charise hurried out of the car and over to the sidewalk. Charise grasped Ms. Gibson’s wrist and felt it. “She’s alive,” she breathed, “but it’s pretty weak.” She looked down at the woman. “Hey, Ms. Gibson? Can you hear us? Talk to us.”

Ms. Gibson’s eyes fluttered open. “Charise… Ophelia… what are you two doing here?”

“Ophelia saw you and wanted to see if you were okay,” Charise replied. What happened?”

“This guy… with a knife… a big knife… he needed money for drugs… and I didn’t have any…”

Ophelia noticed a large damp spot on Ms. Gibson’s dress. She lightly touched it, then peered at her fingertips. She held her hand up just enough for Charise to see that her fingers were scarlet with fresh blood.

“Charise,” Ms. Gibson said quietly, squeezing Charise’s hand tightly.

“What?” Charise asked. “Don’t worry. S is calling an ambulance now. They’ll be here soon.”

“They won’t get here in time.”

“Don’t be silly. They’ll get here and patch you right up, and you’ll be your old self again.”

“Charise, listen to me. Now is not the time to try and pretend everything’s okay. Between you and Ophelia, there’s a lot of suffering that could have been prevented if you’d both been honest with each other.”

“What do you mean?” Charise asked. She looked over at Ophelia. “Lia, what does she mean?”

Ms. Gibson gripped Ophelia’s hand tightly as well. “Ophelia, tell her.”

“What do you mean?” Ophelia asked.

“You know what I mean. The thing that makes you awake in the night, terrified that it’s going to happen again. The thing that causes all of your nightmares. The one thing you were always afraid to tell Charise because you were afraid of what she’d think of you. Tell her now, while I‘m still alive to witness it.”

“What is she talking about?” Charise asked.

Ophelia sighed and said slowly, “Charise… remember all those years ago, when Dunstan first started teaching you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well… you know how I somehow strangely started hating him, almost overnight?”

“Yeah.”


“Well… I… he… oh God…” Ophelia stammered, beginning to cry. Between sobs and gasps, she spilled out an abbreviated version of the story. “I didn’t want to tell you,” she finished. “I thought you’d hate me and think it was my fault.”

“Why would I ever think that?” Charise asked, astonished. “I know you wouldn’t do that kind of thing. It was his fault. His. He was the adult, not you… and… and…” She swallowed hard. “I… know what you went through. I had a similar experience.”

The last thing that Ms. Gibson saw before it all went black was the cousins embracing each other tightly and sobbing, as the ambulance approached.


“And, in conclusion,” Elizabeth finished, “I feel that--” She broke off, a strange look on her face. She gripped her head tightly and cried out in pain. It felt as though someone had shoved a red-hot blade through her head.

Hey, Liz, the voice in her head said. It was Gabby.

What are you doing in my head? Get the hell out! Elizabeth screamed mentally.

Doesn’t feel so nice, does it?

No. What’s going on?

I won.

What? What do you mean?

Those kids won’t die now. You lost, and I won.

But… how?

You said we were like gods. Well, consider this a deus ex machina of sorts. Your idea of a god is firmly planted in what you were taught-- that to be a god means letting people die. But I understand the truth, that being a god means sacrifice, and, sometimes, that means self-sacrifice. To save the innocents, sometimes you must be willing to give up your own life. It’s not about power, it’s about compassion.

But why?

You only knew what they knew. But… well… you see…

Elizabeth listened, astonished. All this time? Why didn’t you tell me?

A good strategist never reveals everything, especially to someone who may seek to harm her or those she cares about. I wasn’t lying when I said I came here for my grandmother. I just did a few extra things. But my grandma is the one who will benefit from all of this.

But…

Goodbye, Liz.


Ms. Gibson’s grandmother opened the envelope that had been placed on her pillow. She unfolded the enclosed paper and read it, tears sliding slowly down her face:

Dear Gran,

By the time you read this, I will be dead. I chose my actions, and this is the only way I could change things for the better. I did this for you, so that you could live a better life. While I know you are deeply saddened by my actions, take comfort in knowing that we will see each other again soon. As you know, I made arrangements for my funeral several years ago, with everything paid in full, as well as had my will written and made official. In the upper drawer of my desk are the last-minute details of my funeral. Contact the people listed at the numbers provided. You will know what to do. I love you.

Gabby