"Oh, this is bad," Nicole says, my phone in her hand, a forkful of syrupy waffle in the other.

"I know this is bad," I sigh into my mug of coffee. "But what do I do about it? Nate already put in extra security into my new account and I've done everything I can to block Carter out of my life."

It's currently 9:30 in the morning. Nate, Nicole, and I are sitting shoulder to shoulder to shoulder on a small swinging bench on their wrap around porch eating waffles and nursing slight hangovers. As soon as Nicole woke up, I had pounced on her, shoving my phone in her face to show her the email Carter had sent me earlier that morning. Before she even looked at it, she stated that we needed fuel and Nate's help. Reluctantly, I filled Nate in on more details of my past life, catching him up to how much Nicole knows so he could fully understand the situation.

Which brings us to know, the three of us huddled around my phone screen, all silently rereading the message.

"Don't you think it's a weird coincidence that the subject of the email is 'Sleeping Beauty' and you were wearing a pink princess costume last night? Like Aurora in Sleeping Beauty?" Nate puts out there. I hadn't even thought of that.

"Like you said, it's a weird coincidence," Nicole brushed that thought away with a flick of her hand, sending drops of syrup to land on the floorboards of the porch. "What is important is how we can anticipate which email addresses Carter is going to use to contact Leila with again. We don't need someone finding these photos of her and ruining her reputation."

"It's not even the pictures that bother me anymore," I say quietly. The both turn their heads to look at me in confusion. "At first, I was worried about people finding out about who I was before, but that's not even the bigger issue here. The memories attached to these photos are really eating away at me and Carter knows exactly how to bring me down mentally and emotionally. He's not just picking random party pictures of me, he's making sure that each photo he is sending has some traumatic memory associated with it. The one he sent today is from the same party as the very first picture he sent me..." I trail off a bit, lost in thought.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Nate asks sincerely. I take my time thinking that over, staring off into the front yard. It's not that I don't trust my two best friends with my demons, it's that I don't want them to pity me or feel like they need to treat me any differently.

"I'm not sure how much I can handle discussing right now, but I guess I do owe you guys a little more truth than what I have told you already," I finally say, convincing myself that opening up is for the best, even if it's just a little.

"That's fine, just tell us however much you feel comfortable with," Nicole responds, giving me a side hug and rubbing my arm.

I take a deep breathe and begin, "So this party that I have now gotten two pictures from was the last party I went to in California before leaving. In fact, it was the last party I went to until last night. I was," I struggle to pick the right words. "I was extremely inebriated and had passed out in a random bedroom. When I woke up, I had no idea where I was, what time it was, or where any of my friends were. I felt awful, like a truck hit my body and ran over me multiple times just for the fun of it. Some girls, who were probably the only nice people there, helped me find Carter, and when I told him what happened and wanted to go home he flat out said no and that I should have been more responsible." I start to tear up and rush through the words, more flashbacks from the party flooding my brain, all blurry due to being as far from sober as a human could be. Plus the emotional barrier that was blocking out parts of the night out of pure survival.

"It's okay," Nate reassures me. "Take your time."

"Thanks," I say, wiping away the lone tear that had escaped and rolled down my cheek. "He said that I deserved to feel that way and... anyway, Carter was supposed to be my designated driver, but he was just as out of it as I was. So I may have told him that he was the reason I was acting this way and that if I had never met him then I wouldn't be the way that I am. That my life would be better, less complicated, less fuzzy. I basically said I don't want to be friends with him anymore and that I was going to find another designated driver to take me home."

"That doesn't sound that bad. And you were totally justified in saying those things, especially since you told me he was such a bad influence on you," Nicole states, still rubbing my arm in a comforting way.

"Yeah, well little did I know that he had taken my keys from my purse when I left to go look for someone that was sober," I continue. "He took off in a rage and crashed my car, not even a mile away from the party. I know it's horrible for me to say it, but I wish Carter got totaled instead of my car. Or at least more injured than a broken arm."

"That's not horrible," Nate says. "Well, not completely horrible." He lets out a little chuckle and I join him, swiping at another tear. "Let's look on the bright side. You're more in control of your own life now, you have way better friends than those party rats in California, and all Carter can do is send you stupid emails which we can easily stop you from receiving anymore."

"How?" I question him. "We already tried putting extra security to block his old account and any variations he could have made."

"We can set up your preferences to only receive emails from a pre-approved list of contacts!" Nicole exclaims before Nate can answer. "Why didn't I think of that before? It's such an easy fix! We'll just make a list of people you want to be able to send you messages, like us or your aunt or people from school, and then you're golden."

"Yeah, what she said," Nate agrees, nudging his sister a little to show appreciation for her brilliance. Nicole smiles brightly in response.

"That is a good idea," I say, nodding as I think it over. "We can do it after we eat and before my Uncle Luke picks me up. Oh, and thanks for listening to me. I don't really talk about what has happened back in California that often. My aunt and uncle know almost everything and they don't want to pry too much in case it brings up old negative emotions, but it's nice to have other people know a little more about me. Just don't treat me any different," I add at the end.

"Of course, anytime you want to talk, the two of us will be here to listen," Nicole squeezes me tight into her side. "And there is absolutely no reason that we would treat you any different, you're just like us. But with more flavor."

I smile at her, but my insides are twisting with guilt. She wouldn't be saying that if she knew everything that happened at that party. And the events that transpired just weeks before with my parents.