The official explanation was a ritual murder-suicide. The volleyball girls lured their boyfriends there and killed them, then each other. Lara was alone when she first arrived at the crime scene, and she had enough time before calling it in to put her gloves on and modify it as needed to make that story stick.

In addition to Chase never being there, Caitlin wasn't either. Lara felt her presence, her living presence, at the cabin, complicated the story. And if Caitlin wasn't there, it didn't make sense that Lara was there either. There were no neighbors in the area. If the volleyball girls and their boyfriends were the only people at the cabin, there was no one there to call the police. So she drove Caitlin home and went to bed, telling no one what she saw.

The parents of the dead started reporting their kids missing the following day, and it was that afternoon that the grisly scene at the cabin was discovered.

Lara wasn't on shift. She wasn't the cop who opened that cabin door. She was off duty. Her coworkers at the station would have expected her to be sleeping at that moment. Naturally, she wasn't. She was sitting at the island in her kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee, staring blankly into space. The fridge was decorated with humble badges of motherhood. A photo of Caitlin in a magnet frame, a schedule of Caitlin's practices and games, a letter notifying her that Caitlin had made the honor roll. These things were frequently ignored and overlooked as she opened the refrigerator door to grab something. That day, however, she caught herself staring many a time.

Chase escorted Caitlin out of the dark woods by moonlight, snow flying around them. It was a long hike, and both girls were exhausted, but Chase was at least able to navigate them by the stars. A few times, Caitlin stumbled or needed a break and Chase tried to carry her, but given Chase's condition, Caitlin would not allow it.

Upon finally reaching Sunnycrest they split up, Caitlin for her apartment and Chase for Alicia's house. She crept in Alicia's window at around four in the morning, covered in blood. She tried to be quiet so as not to wake her roommate, but her concern was not necessary. Alicia was sitting in bed, wide awake, waiting for her return, reading distractedly from a paperback novel.

As soon as she heard the window open, Alicia was up and embracing her friend. Chase clutched her tightly, maybe too tightly. Alicia was almost in pain, but she endured it. If it came with Chase's return, it was a good pain.

With Alicia's touch to guide her, Chase returned from madness. She left that cabin, the bloodshed and murder, behind her, and she felt her job was done. Caitlin was safe. Rebecca was avenged. And she was here.

But with the return to sanity came that familiar guilt. The blood of ten different people was on her when she dared set foot in Alicia's room once more. Their blood was mostly dry, but it still smeared on Alicia's clean pajamas. It dripped on Alicia's bathroom floor when Chase shed her clothes for a shower. Such things should not have happened to Alicia. Such terrible crimes, such unspeakable horrors, had no place in the bedroom that seemed, to Chase, sacrosanct. That familiar feeling she had been struggling with so desperately, for so long, bubbled up again. The feeling that she did not belong.

These feelings were given time to marinate over a three-day hospital stay, and she brought them feelings with her to Andrea's office the same day she was discharged. By this point the news of the cabin had thoroughly made the rounds.

Chase was clean, on the outside at least. Her skin, her hair, her clothes. On the endtable beside her chair, a steaming tea cup rested in a saucer. Grasping the little paper square in her fingers, she lifted the tea bag out of the cup and dipped it back in, absently, slowly, repeatedly. She watched the ripples in the green liquid's surface as though from miles away.

“Thank you for coming to see me today, Chase,” said Andrea with a soft smile. She was in her usual chair, cradling her own cup of tea near her solar plexus. One of her legs was crossed over the other. “I was surprised when you said you wanted to meet, but it was a pleasant surprise.”

“That good,” said Chase. “Not know if Mom Miss had time.”

“Mom Miss?” asked Andrea, looking tickled. “Is that me?”

Chase looked at her. “Yes. Sorry. You make think of moms. Leash mom, Cait mom. My mom. Nice girl who cares, but more years than girl.”

“I don't have TOO many more years than 'girl', you know,” said Andrea tolerantly. “And I think the word you're looking for is a 'woman'.”

“Wum,” said Chase. She thought about it, then shook her head. “Nope. Word I look for is Mom Miss.”

“That's fine. But yes, Chase, I always have time for you,” said Miss Cha with another smile. She had made sure of it, in fact: When Chase notified her that afternoon she wanted to meet, Andrea cancelled all her other patients. She took a sip of tea. “Was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?”

Looking back at her teacup, Chase mumbled, “Not know.”

“How are you dealing with the news of those volleyball girls?” asked Miss Cha. “Last time we spoke, when I came to visit you in the hospital, I think it was still a bit raw for you. You didn't want to talk about it, or much of anything, for that matter. How do you feel today?”

“Still not good.”

Andrea looked sad. “That's understandable. It's hard to lose so many of your classmates...especially like that, in such a heartwrenching way. What they did...and what they ended up doing to each other. It boggles the mind how such young, sweet girls with so much going for them...Just such a tragedy on every level.”

Chase tried not to look guilty, but hiding her emotions was not one of her many skills. It was written all over her face, not that Andrea needed it. “Yes. Big traj. Big heart hurt...from dead voll.”

“Big heart hurt?” asked Andrea. “Did you know them well, Chase?”

“No...Not well.”

“I see. But I can tell you're in pain. Can you tell me what it is about this that has struck you so deeply?”

“Not know.”

Andrea watched her for a moment, then took another sip. “I can tell that you're keeping something inside, Chase. Of course, you don't have to tell me everything while you're in here, but generally people get the most out of counseling when they disclose what they're really feeling.” Her almond-shaped eyes met Chase's. “You wouldn't happen to know something about what happened, would you? Something the police don't know?”

“No!” Chase replied instantly. “Not know none!”

The older woman set down her teacup and leaned forward in her chair, giving Chase her full attention. She laced her fingers together on top of her knee. “Now Chase, you know you can tell me anything. I can't help you unless I know what's wrong. If you're feeling guilty...” Chase winced slightly at the word, “...I want to help. I CAN help. I can help you feel better...not so confused...not so upset with yourself...”

Chase hesitated. “Whatever you say in this office stays in this office,” Andrea continued softly. She reached out and took Chase's hand. “I promise.”

Chase let the touch linger for a moment, felt the warmth of the woman's hand. Not just the physical warmth, but the emotional warmth as well. It wasn't unlike the way Alicia made her feel.

Suddenly, she stood up. “None wrong. I go,” she said.

“Wait,” said Andrea, reaching out to her. Chase stopped. “Please don't go, Chase. I don't want you to think I'm accusing you of anything, I just thought maybe you had heard something that was troubling you. I want you to feel comfortable here. We don't have to talk about anything you don't want.” Andrea gestured at the seat. “Please sit. It's been a while since we've talked. I've been really looking forward to hearing from you.”

Chase hesitated. She looked at the woman for a moment, then sat back down. “Sorry. Not feel good since voll dead. Heart and feel in much bungle.”

“I understand. Sorry I didn't respect your boundaries,” said Andrea. She smiled and leaned back in her seat, uncrossing her legs and recrossing them in the opposite direction. “Now then, let's change the subject to something a bit lighter. Are you still getting along well with all your friends on the cheerleading squad?”

Chase immediately brightened. “Yes!” Chase said positively. “Long with all! Love cheer and friends!”

Andrea giggled. She WAS a cute thing. “They're really nice girls, aren't they?” asked Miss Cha.

She didn't need to say any more. She knew Chase would mentally give this statement the desired undertone all by herself: 'I don't deserve them.'

“Yes,” said Chase. Her voice still sounded positive, but there was a forced quality to it. A slight deflation of the spirit was audible.

Andrea took another drink of tea. “Are you feeling like you're fitting in any better?”

“Not so.”

“Ah. Well, keep trying. We all have to start somewhere,” said Andrea. “Do you remember what I mentioned last time we visited? About where I...worked before I came here?”

Chase vaguely did, although her mind had been rather occupied at the time. “Think so.”

“Well, I want you to know that the way you feel...it's not as unusual as you think. A long time ago, I was like you, you know. A fish out of water. A...wolf among sheep, if I may present a more morbid colloquialism. Sugar?”

“What?” asked Chase.

“For your tea.”

Chase had not taken a single sip yet. She changed that. “No thanks.”

“Ah. Good,” said Andrea. “Anyway, a long time ago, I felt like I didn't fit in too. Just the way you did now. I was...a bit violent for normal society. A bit aggressive, you could say. Just the way you are.”

“You come from woods too?” asked Chase.

Chase did not realize she'd slightly compromised her cover story, and Andrea didn't call attention to it. “No, not from the woods. Just a normal town like Sunnycrest,” said Andrea. “You see, Chase, girls like you and me can come from everywhere. Sometimes we end up dead. Sometimes we end up in prison. And sometimes when we try too hard to fit in with the...the more normal people...they can get hurt. End up dead. Even people we love. Maybe you've noticed that too.” Chase instantly looked down at her lap, guilt telegraphed on her face. Andrea went on, her voice sympathetic.

“Dead.”

“You're not alone, Chase. I know you look around at Alicia, Lindsey, and the rest of these sweet, demure cheerleaders and feel like there's something wrong with you. I know because that's how I felt. But you're not wrong, you're not bad. You're just different. I know that. I went through the same thing. And it was hard at first. To leave behind normalcy, to leave my old life behind, to embrace what I am. I suspected I would have to. Perhaps you have already considered it, yourself. But it was hard. Too hard. I couldn't do it.”

She shivered, as if struck by an unwelcome memory. “I told myself that my friends would never be hurt because of me. I told myself that...that no matter how violent I was, they wouldn't have to suffer. I was wrong. The people I cared about most...MY Alicia, MY Caitlin...they died.”

Chase was sitting perfectly still in her seat. Her fists were clenched on the armrests, her knuckles white. Her eyes were wide, and her bottom lip trembled. She looked terrified.

Andrea reached out and put a hand on top of Chase's nearest fist. She looked in Chase's eyes and gave her a reassuring, protective smile. “The difference with you, though, is you have me. I've been through all this before, and I won't let you make the same mistakes I did. You can trust me. Eventually, I did find a place I belonged. I did find my niche in this world. But it took a long time. There was...a lot of death, Chase. If you'll let me help, you can find yours a lot quicker.”

“Neesh?” asked Chase.

Andrea nodded. “When I found my niche, I made new friends.” She smiled, and when she did, she was unable to keep an perverse undercurrent of sadism from creeping into it. Chase was too occupied with her swirling thoughts to notice. “I made friends who I got to know more...intimately than anyone I had ever known. I shared things with them, and they shared things with me...that normal people could never understand.”

She became aware that she was letting her mask slip, and corrected herself, resuming her motherly performance. “And my old friends, the people from my old life, who I loved so dearly...all I could do was wish I hadn't tried to fit in with them. For their sake. It became clear I never belonged.”

Chase's eyes were locked onto Andrea's. Andrea could see in Chase's eyes how all the wild, confused thoughts in the primitive girl's tormented mind crystalized, and Chase found clarity. A clarity Chase believed was natural, but which Andrea had carefully engineered. Chase was seeing a way out of her confused state, and it was a road Andrea had built.

“What place you go?”

Miss Cha was intentionally avoiding an answer. It wasn't time to reel Chase in yet, tempting as it was. She waved her hand dismissively. “It's not important. You're not here to listen to me reminisce about old times. YOUR place is here in Sunnycrest with the rest of your squad.”

Chase looked away. She gave a troubled nod. “Y-yes, that true.”

Andrea looked up at the clock on the wall to her right. “Well, I wish we could talk longer, but it looks like we're out of time for today. Just a moment before you go, though,” The woman stood up and walked to her desk. She picked up a pen and began to quickly write on a notepad. “Let me give you my phone number. Any time you want to talk, Chase, you can call me directly. Any hour of the day, any day of the week.”

She set down the pen and ripped the piece of paper off the pad. She walked to Chase and handed it to her.

Chase read the series of blue ink numbers with surprise. “Can call? Why that?”

Andrea smiled reassuringly. “Because I care about you, Chase. Because I want what's best for you. That's not something that just stops when the school day is over.”

Chase looked down at the shorter woman in amazement. Then, she folded the paper and put it in her coat pocket. “Thanks, miss. Will do.” With that, she turned and left.

Alone, Andrea returned to her chair. She sat down in it and leaned back, taking her teacup in her hands once more.

It wouldn't be long now.