What if...

Two words, as said in the inspiring movie Letters To Juliet, that when put apart are as harmless as any two words are in the English language. But when put together, those same two words can haunt you for the rest of your life.

What if, what if, what if...

Those two words haunt many.

What if I hadn't called them just as they took the bend? What if I had called him before he took that last step off the Brooklyn Bridge and towards certain doom? What if I hadn't eaten that last piece of Chicken Carbonara? And the pressing question many teenagers wonder at least once in their life, What if I had been born in a different family?

The truth of life is that not one person knows another truly and well. Not one person knows everything that another is thinking. And not one person truly understands someone else better than they themselves do.

You might be living with your family and not truly know that your own sister or brother is having an internal war with themselves or that they have been experiencing emotional pressure from other people.

And there comes the what ifs. The questions you wonder when the irreversible deed is done.

In my case, the questions had been building up. But I didn't want to dwell on them ever, even when the news stated that the accident was due to an engine failure on the aircraft.

But I couldn't deny the fact that those questions were ever present on my mind now.

"Krystal." I felt a heavy pressure on my wrist and only then did I finally faze out of my thoughts, realizing that Douglas had been shaking me relentlessly for the past few seconds before he'd gone back to squeezing my wrist.

"Douglas," I tried to pull my wrist away from his grip but he ignored my weak attempts and tightened his grip.

His emerald green eyes were hooded in concern. "What happened?" His eyes drifted to the living room where I'd just runout off before it returned to me. "What did dad do?"

I chuckled dryly in frustration as I thought of the fact that he hasn't warned me. "You knew he was coming and you didn't warn me?"

No trace of guilt was found in his eyes. "I knew you weren't in any sort of trouble," he replied as he released my wrist but maintained our close proximity.

"How did you know I wasn't in trouble? Did you already know he wouldn't fire me because you were missing?" My frustration increased at the thought that he had been playing me all this time.

He nodded without hesitation. "Dad told me the night after he made this insane offer, why he was always sending someone to drop off the checks."

What? "You knew about those?"

He nodded before he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the direction of the kitchen. This time I went along, having somewhat lost the rush of emotions from before and somewhat curious of everything.

What did he know? How much did he know? Did he know his dad blamed himself for my parents death?

Douglas sat me down at one of the high chairs in the state of the art kitchen before going around the counter and pulling out a bottle of orange juice. None of the staff was to be found. He then poured out the contents of the bottle into two glasses, one of which he handed to me. I drank down half of the glass, only then realizing how thirsty I was.

After some time, his eyes now studying the perspiration on the glass he said, "I was following the company's finances and saw irregularities in it. When I asked dad, he said maybe my numbers were just wrong. But they never are you see. One day, I overheard him telling one of his men to drop off the money where he always had. So out of curiosity, I followed him. I saw them leave an envelope in your mailbox. At first I thought he was paying off a mistress but then you came out and picked it up." This time his eyes lifted to meet mine. "You looked too young to be one and so I thought you were my half sister or something equally insane." He paused, before he lifted the glass and drank half its contents. "I confronted my dad later that day and he said that it was a debt he owed."

"So you knew who I was that day, on the plane?"

He shook his head. "No." He chuckled as he got lost in his thoughts again. "That was two years ago and you look...different now than you did then." He paused, his eyes on me as if there was some hidden mystery I knew, before he finished off his glass. "You look more...mature now, I guess. Besides, I didn't even get a good look at you." He offered me a comforting smile. "I know you must be confused now, but I hope you believe too that it isn't his fault."

"What do you mean?"

"I know my dad can be an ass most of the time," he paused, "all the time actually. But he actually wanted to help your parents out."

I sighed in frustration although I knew what he meant. "I know but..."

"You need someone to blame and he just gave it to you, didn't he?"

I nodded.

"But what do you believe, truly?"

"Fine, fine Mr Intervention. If I truly think it through, your dad had good intentions and how can I blame him when it was the engine failure that caused the accident?"

He nodded.

"Wait," I eyed him skeptically. "so you knew all this time that your dad wouldn't fire me, yet you used that against me?"

His eyes didn't meet mine when he answered, "Can you blame me for taking that opportunity? Will was offering to give me Georgia's number and I couldn't very well let that go."

"But I was losing my mind over it," I huffed a sigh on frustration. "But I guess that didn't matter to you, as long as you get Georgia."

He furrowed his brows together as he frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I shrugged. "Nothing."

He smirked suddenly as if he just realized something. "Are you jealous, Ms Sanders?" No trace of seriousness from before remained. Now he looked like a cat who had just cornered a fat, juicy. mouse.

It was my time now to frown at his suggestion as I moved uneasily in my chair, his gaze heavy on me. "Are you serious right now?"

He nodded before he leaned over the counter towards me. "Very serious." I tried to push him away but he caught my hands in his. He leaned in again, this time closing the few inches between us whilst making sure our bodies didn't touch.

"Let me go, Douglas. This isn't the least funny!" I tried to pull my hands out of his but his grip remained on it.

"You're right," he smirked deviously. "It's much more entertaining."

I glared furiously at him as he thought the was a game. "Let me go."

He shook his head, playfully. "No. Your cheeks are flushed red, your pupils are dilated and fear is in your expression. I quite like this image of you, Ms Sanders." His gaze darkened. "Less intimidating than usual."

"Let me go, Douglas or you'll be finding yourself missing a tooth and your face not looking as perfect as it is now." The words slipped out before I thought twice of it and instantly a world of regret flooded through me. Perfect?

He chuckled with untamed amusement as he unfortunately caught my words. "You think I have a perfect face?"

"Last warning, Douglas," I tried again to pull away from him as I felt heat flood my presumably already fire red face. "One, two, t-"

"Well, isn't this an interesting situation."

As if those words were my personal form of spinach (Popeye reference), I successfully pulled away from Douglas and sent him flying and landing against the refrigerator. Or maybe he was also caught by surprise and had lost all sense of judgment or strength.

My face flushed with embarrassment as I turned to face Georgia who was leaning against the doorway, her phone in hand and an amused expression painted on her perfect face.

"This isn't," Douglas began as he started towards her.

"This isn't what it looked like!" I gasped out as I rubbed my bruising wrists from having been held hard several times today.

"And..." She walked towards us, her black Manolos making their signature click clack as she walked towards us. "...just what is it that that looked like, I wonder?" She looked like she was holding in a chucks as she looked at both of us.

"You know, m-" Douglas began before I interrupted him.

"Nothing." My voice resounded in the huge kitchen as I stood up from the high chair. "Nothing at all."

"And I'm supposed to believe this?"

I nodded. "Yes, of course."

She smirked. "Fine."

But I couldn't quite shake of the feeling that she was planning something so devastatingly evil Regina George would gasp in terror.