Okay, um... Hi.

Guess who finally decided to write the post about what happens? x'D

So, if you didn't know, BE is done. Kaput. Finito.
It's a little sad, I guess, but it's just not fun to write.
Anyhow, as a late Christmas present, here is what would've happened:

On the cruise, there were 12 friends, including Eff herself. Within the group there was... Mixed feelings. One event led to another, which led to an actual death on the cruise ship: Emilie's dad. The culprit? Emilie. I think I had mentioned in one chapter that Emilie's sister had died of cancer, and Em had always felt like it was her dad's fault for never being around. Only Effenie knows about the murder, as she was there to witness Em pushing her dad overboard.
Now, Bren died. Someone from the cruise, right? Well, it just so happened that Emilie never liked anybody from the vacation besides Effenie. (A key thing to know here is that Eff's birthday is in December.) The 12 people all had birthdays in different months and Em decided she wasn't content with them being alive, so she decided to go after them in order of months. (Make sense? I hope so. ;-;)
Long story short: Three of them survive (Allie, Effenie and another character who wasn't introduced at this point.), Effenie catches Erik making out with Emilie (That was how she was going to be introduced into the story, but fdjksndksdjcn.), Em kills herself, Effenie falls in love with Allie, they get married and he dies of the same cancer Emilie's sister had a few months before their baby was due, Effenie names her baby after Emilie and then she dies of old age.

Erm, yeah... Other than that... Nothing else really happens. That's the gist of it. PS, thank you guys so much for the 800+ page views. You're all amazing.

Here's my new legacy, if you liked my writing~

Well, farewell, BE.
You will be dearly missed.
<3
-Rennie

Chapter 6 - Allie.

*WARNING - Includes Sexual Content and Mild Nudity*

I suggest you listen to this while reading: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dn8-4tjPxD8

(I'd like to thank my friend Georgie for letting me use her sim [the secretary])

My heart stops momentarily. Did he just ask me whom I killed? How would he know? I wasn't admitting to anything, this was insane. I feel my face flush. Allan's eyes travel down my body and back up to my eyes, where his stare slices through me.

  "Excuse me?" I snap. I try to look as courageous as possible, but he's thrown me off. His mouth opens to speak, but I can't hear anything because my heartbeat is pounding too loudly in my ears. I turn my head and look through the windows peeking into station's quaint lounge, although it's hard looking through the tilted wooden blinds. Sitting in the same chair I was just a few minutes ago, a girl with short blonde curly hair and blue eyes catches my attention. I can see her looking straight at me. Her eyes drop to the floor and she bites her lip. Everything about her is familiar and oddly compelling.

  "Effenie?" Allan's voice cuts in. I stand up, still keeping my eyes on the girl. I walk over to the door and push it open without thought.  

  "You," I say, pointing to the girl. Her head snaps up, her eyes alert. She was on the cruise. "Eliz-"

  "Annie, actually, Eliza's sister. I'm the younger one, but confusion is comprehensible, as we do look alike," she interrupts.

 "Miss Summers," the bodacious secretary is at my side. "Allan is waiting for you to join him again."

  "Not without her," I say, pointing at Annie.

  Annie stiffens, "Why me?"

  I look at her and offer my hand to help her stand up. She shakes her head and stands up slowly. "Because you've met Emilie."

  It wasn't much of a reason, but a flash of recognition shows in those blue eyes. She knew Emilie, maybe even more than I did. The secretary huffs and gestures towards the office. Allan, obviously annoyed with my behavior, has his feet on his desk again, and his hands on the back of his neck, elbows out. As there's only one chair facing the desk for guests, I let Annie sit on it, and I stand next to her. The secretary closes he door behind us and the room is silent until Allan closes his eyes and sighs.

  "Are you going to answer the question, Effenie?" he asks. Annie looks up at me and I start pressing my nail into my palm.

  "I didn't kill anybody," I answer. Allan smirks and straightens up. "Where's the guy that broke in? Isn't that what I'm here for?"

  "Who'd you kill?" he repeats. Had I not just told him I didn't kill someone? I hadn't, and never will.

 "No one." I say, my voice rising. I ball my hands into fists and grit my teeth. He was truly aggravating.

  "Your reaction to my question tells me different. Who'd yo-"

  "She said she didn't kill anyone," Annie butts in. I smile with relief at her. "What I'd like to know is why I'm here. I should be in Maine at the moment, with my sister. Why did I have to stop here?"

  Wait. Annie lived in Maine? Then why was she here?

 "You're both here for one reason, and she," Allan points to me in mid-sentence. "Is here for two reasons. A gentleman broke into her apartment in search for a pict-"

  "A picture of Emilie and I. I don't know why he wanted it. I'd accidentally scratched our faces out with my keys when I was drunk one night. What's the first reason?"

Allan sighs again and looks at Annie.

  "The guy that broke into Effenie's apartment is your cousin, Allie," he explains.

  "I know an Allie, except this guy had black hai-"

   "It's the same guy you're thinking about Eff," Annie cuts in. "He was on the cruise too, and he was going through this Goth phase, hence the black hair. I swear, sometimes he doesn't act his age, with all these phases and break-ins. It's like he's stuck in his teens still."

   Allie Frost, the guy with the unforgettable green eyes. It was him. He did break into my home. For a picture? He knew Emilie, but still, trying to steal a picture was pointless.

  "I'd like to talk to him," I say, looking at Allan.

  "As you wish."

The secretary leads me into a small room, with only a chair, a few lights, and him. He sits, slumped in the chair, hands on his knees, handcuffs locked on his wrists. His head is down until the door closes behind me, and it lifts. His green eyes are mesmerizing.

   "I probably would've enjoyed the knife more than the pan," he laughs, sending me a smile that makes my heart skip a beat. He was handsome. I feel myself start to smile back, but I stop myself and clear my throat.

   "Well, you did break into my home," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "Why'd you want to the picture?"

   "How about dinner sometime?" he says, winking slightly. It was getting harder to come up with questions almost immediately. He just asked me out? I think of Erik and compose myself. I was going to have to play along to get some answers.

   "How about you tell me what I want to know, and I won't hit you with a pan again, sound like a deal?" I say, stepping closer to him. I check for security cameras in the top corners of the room. Surprisingly none.  

  He stands up, "Aggressive. I like that in a girl. If we go to dinner, I'll tell you everything you want to know. I'll even give you a little tidbit of information for just agreeing to dinner. I'm pretty good company, I can keep us both entertained."

   I wanted to know so much, and if he had answers, one date wouldn't hurt, right?

  I nod and then I'm pinned to the wall, Allie's hands holding my wrists above my head. I'm speechless as to how fast this happened. His hands let go of my wrists and they fall by my side. He then holds my face in his hands, cupping both sides of my face. He crushes his lips against mine and sparks ignite. I stand still for only a second before kissing him back. Not only did it feel so, so good, but it also felt almost... Right. Kissing a criminal must be my type of thing. I grab the sides of his jacket and pull him closer. He starts to nip at my lip for entrance, but I pull away. I lean in and put my mouth next to his ear.

   "We need to get these handcuffs off of your wrists," I say, reaching for my hair and pulling one of my bobby pins out. I feel him grin and his hands travel down my neck, down the middle of my cleavage and to my stomach. I refrain from shivering from his touch and stick the bobby pin into the left handcuff's keyhole. I twist it and spin it until it clicks, and the handcuff unlock. I do the same thing to the other wrist and watch as the metal contraption falls to the ground.

  "You've obviously done that before. Well, someone's looking for us. All of us. Don't worry, we're safe, for now," he chuckles lightly.

I needed more information, I was hungry for it.  "Pick me up at 8 tomorrow," I say, running my hand down his back and slipping the bobby pin into the back pocket of his jeans. I wink at him and walk out the door.

   I take a deep breath and sigh at the secretary.

  "I'm pressing no charges against Mr. Frost, and I'll pay any bail required to let him go," I say with confidence. She smirks at me and writes something on her hand with a pen.

  "He can leave if you're not pressing charges," she answers, blowing a bubble with her gum. It pops and I flinch. Well, that was easier than I thought it would be. I walk out of the police station and into the frosty evening air.

  I jump at the sight of him. Erik stands by the fridge, leaning on the counter.

  "I was about to ask how you got in here, but I remembered there's no lock," I say to Erik, throwing my keys on the island. "You scared the shit out of m-" I'm cut off by Erik's lips on mine. The kiss is intense, and makes me want him. I wrap my arms around his neck. His hands find their way up my shirt and to the clasp for my bra. Before unclipping it, his lips travel up my jaw and to my ear, where he whispers three words that make me still.

   "I love you."

He unclips the clasp and I feel my bra fall loose. His hands maneuver their way to my stomach and he starts to pull my shirt up. His lips travel to my neck and brush along my collarbone. I stay still as he pulls me in, greedy for more. 'I love you'. Had he really said that? Maybe it had been a figment of my imagination. My shirt comes off and he wraps his arms around my waist. He starts to bite at one of my bra straps, and I feel it and the left side of my bra fall lower, revealing one of my breasts. Kissing across the top of my chest, his teeth find the other strap, and my bra falls to the floor. He couldn't have said that. Like he said, we were friends. Well, friends with benefits. Did he want to be more? If so, I may be up to that, getting back with him. I would need time for love though. The thought of lying and telling him what he might want to hear sticks in my mind. My hands start to wander to his chest, finding a way under his shirt.

  "I... I love you too," I hesitate. I immediately feel guilty. I didn't love him like that, as a friend, yes, but not romantically. I could learn to love him.  I was close to telling him I loved him before I broke it off. We'd grown apart. I hadn't talked to him until he came to my apartment a few days ago, and there wasn't much talking done. His lips are on mine again and his hands are on my breasts, squeezing gently. I move his hands to my jeans to let him know I want them off. He complies and my jeans are off almost instantly. I pull myself up onto the counter with his hands on my waist. He stands in front of me and I wrap my legs around him. He pulls his shirt over his head and leans in to kiss me again. He plants a single kiss on my lips, and then his lips wander down my chin and neck in a straight line. I feel the warmth of his mouth against my cold skin and it makes me shiver. I can't help but compare Erik's touch to Allie's. Allie's was intoxicating and made my head spin. Erik's is gentle but incredibly arousing. I start to feel like Bella, having to even think of choosing either Edward or Jacob. The thought that my life might turn into a sappy, unrealistic story that Stephanie Meyer has become famous for sickens me. He trails his lips through the middle of my breasts, down my stomach and to my hips, all while running his hands slowly up my legs. I moan in delight at his touches. Before his mouth goes near the inner part of my thighs, I grab the back of his head and gently tug on it.

   "Wait," I say, making him look at me. "We should... Decide on what we are. Like, if there's an us or not." I wasn't really interested in knowing if there was an "us", I just couldn't stop thinking of Allie, and I didn't want to have sex with Erik while thinking of another guy.

 "Okay," he laughs standing up straight and unraveling my legs from his waist. He crosses his arms over his chest and smiles brightly at me. "Humor me."

  "Well, for starters, we should be in a relationship if we're going to keep this up," I suggest. He gives a hearty laugh.

   "This? What's this?" he asks, raising his eyebrows and widening his smile.

  "This." I explain, gesturing to my half naked self and his bare chest. "Sex."

   He grabs my hands and chuckles lightly. Bringing one of them to his mouth and kissing the back of it, I smile.

   "Effenie, will you be my girlfriend again?" he asks. Without even the slightest thought, I nod and squeeze his hands. He leans in for another kiss but I pull away, slide over to the next counter and jump off. I bend over and pick his shirt up.

   "Nothing tonight, you can sleepover, but nothing happens," I smile, chucking his shirt at his head. It hits the side of his face and when he pulls it off his shoulder, I see a giant grin.

   "Why not?" he whines, still grinning. I pick up my shirt, pull it on and don't even bother with my bra.

   "'We just got in a relationship again, we have to take things slow," I giggle.

   "Effenie Summers, taking things slow? That doesn't sound right," he jokes. He walks over to me and hooks his right arm around my waist, pulling me to him. His hand finds my butt and I slap it away.

  "You sleeping here or what?" I laugh, pulling him to the bedroom.

  "Of course I am."

  He starts to strip to his underwear, but when his hands get to his belt, I stop him.

   "Let me," I say, pulling on his belt to pull him against me.

   "You, Summers," he laughs. "Are hard to resist."

   "Good," I wink at him, undoing his belt. I pull his pants off and we both fall over onto the bed. Erik then climbs on top of me and kisses my jaw.

    "You sure about that whole 'nothing tonight' thing you had goin' on?" he says between kisses on my skin. I let my hands carefully brush against his chest. I wasn't sure what I wanted. This day had certainly been interesting, with Allie and his crime and now Erik's confession of love. I absentmindedly let out a small moan from his kisses. Why had I said that? I wanted him. I needed a distraction from today. From Allie. Push him out of your head Eff, do it. Don't think of him, think of Erik. Suddenly, I see Erik in my mind, and only Erik. I sigh with content.

   "Screw that, I want you," I laugh. Then, he takes my shirt off, and continues where he left off. 

Chapter 5 - Revelations.

I suggest you listen to this while reading: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8yvGCAvOAfM
(My apologies for the lack of pictures, my game hasn't been cooperating lately.)
(Credit to Cindy, my friend, for the poses in the first picture)

As much fun as sitting in the police station's lobby for a few hours was, time ticked on way too slowly. The cheap light bulbs flickered frequently, nearly giving me a heart attack every time. The sound of coffee being poured into a mug by the Keurig machine in the corner made me feel anxious. The sound of a door slamming against the wall makes me jump and I look up, startled. A knot ties in my stomach when police officer Allen Kent storms out of his office. He catches sight of me, his anger vanishes, and I'm left with him checking me out, and an awful silence. He sets down the files he has in his hands next to the coffee machine and walks over to stand in front of my chair. I start pressing my finger nail in my palm. Shit, shit, shit. What was I doing here anyways? Was I in trouble? No, I couldn't be. I didn't do anything wrong. He holds out his hand and I hesitantly shake it. 

     "Hello miss, I'm officer Allen, head of criminal justice. May I help you?" he introduces. His sentence confused me. 

    "Actually, I was hoping you could tell me why I was here," I answer quietly. I release pressure on my palm and look at my feet. I feel him look around for something or something. Suddenly, a blonde, bodacious woman, roughly around my age, is at his side with a clipboard in hand. 

   "This is Miss Summers, and she was the latest victim of a breaking and entering. Her case is an interesting one," the blonde purrs, sliding her glasses further up her nose. She's dressed in a tight blouse, her bra peaking through the fabric, and a pencil skirt. She hands Allen the clipboard with a sly smile on her face, and walks to Keurig machine, picking up the mug of coffee. You think that after being here for at least two hours, I would have noticed her before, but I hadn't. 

    "So, you've had a history with this stuff?" Allen asks. He flips through the three pages on the clipboard and then holds it as his side. I nod solemnly and keep my head down. He walks to his office door and waves me over. I shakily stand up and wander over to his office. He closes the door behind me and takes a seat at his desk. The room is small and dark, blinds covering the two small on opposite sides of the room. He settles into his chair, casually putting his hands on his neck and putting his feet on his desk. 

   "So, Effenie, was it? Why don't we start from the start? Tell me what happened..."

    Someone I didn’t know, had shot off the lock, and barged in. Whatever he wanted, he decided to come into my apartment, and make me scared. Not to mention I already had bad memories with situations like these, even murders that threaten to bring me back to my past of drinking. 

  “Do you have like, a shotgun or something?” Grace asks worriedly, snapping me out of my train of thought. I look over at her in disbelief. She creases her forehead in confusion.

 “Me? With a shotgun? Are you ins-“ Grace’s hand clamps over my mouth to keep me from raising my voice. I glare at her and bite her as gently as I can so she doesn’t squeal. Her hand releases and I wipe my mouth with the back of my own hand. A gun against a gun. I would love to see how I fair in a Mexican standoff, with the blowing tumble weed and the mus- Effenie! Focus! You’ll have time to think of Mexican standoffs later. I was losing it. I shift my weight onto my other foot and look at the counters’ cupboards for any ideas of what to do. I remember that in one drawer, there’s a steak knife. I press a finger to my lips, communicating to Grace that we need to be silent, and I start crawling over to the counter. I pull the drawer open and blindly let my hand search for the knife. I feel a few blades graze against my skin, but successfully draw out what I’d been looking for. I hear a crash come from the bathroom. I look at Grace alarmingly.

    “We’re going to go all Tangled style on this bitch,” I whisper.

    “I never saw that movie,” she whispers back. My jaw drops.

    “We’re going to have to have a talk about this,” I say, reaching over for another cupboard and opening the tiny door. I reach in and pull out a black pan. I close the cupboard lightly and face her. “Over the head,” I instruct. I even do hand motions of what to do. I stand up and silently walk around the island, Grace following behind me. Once out in the open, she ducks behind the couch. I plant my feet in the ground, grip the knife tightly and take a deep breath. I hear something fall to the ground, and then the intruder walks out of the bathroom, looking directly at me. He looks familiar, which makes my hands tighten into a death grip around the steak knife. He spots the knife and shows no emotion on his face. 

“Where’s the picture?” he speaks finally, his voice smooth. I can tell he isn’t nervous at all. What picture? The only picture I had in the whole apartment was the one with Emilie that had our faces scratched out. I had let it set in that I had probably done that when drunk. Still, there was an uneasy feeling in my stomach about that theory. I protectively look over at the picture, and quickly look away. I don’t want him taking it.

     “What picture?” I say, my voice cracking a bit. I clear my throat and keep my head held high. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Grace sneaking around the couch and behind him. Now that I look at him, he seemed incredibly familiar. He had sandy brown hair that stuck out of his hat, freckles and a strong jaw. He wasn’t very muscular, to what I could see, but his layers of clothing didn’t help with that thought.

    “Of you and Emilie, where is it?” he growls and my mind searches for an answer.

   “Why do you want it?” I snap at him.

    “I need it.”

    “HIIYYYYAH!” Grace shrieks, lifting the pan above her head and bringing it down onto his skull. His eyes go cross-eyed before his knees fall out from underneath him and he lies unconscious on the floor. We stand there silently for a minute, just processing what had just happened.

    “Oh my god, what the fuck did I just do? Did I really do that? Oh my god, oh my god,” Grace babbles, hyperventilating. I carefully step over his limp body and put my arms around her shoulders. She starts to calm down immediately.

     “Let’s just call the police,” I say.

     Officer Allen taps his pen against his chin in thought. I start pressing my fingernail in my palm again as the tension in the room rises. I feel my breath catching slightly in my throat. It’s suddenly very claustrophobic in here. He sits up, takes his feet off his desk and puts his arms on there instead, leaning closer. He takes a look at the clipboard again.

   "Now, I see here that, you've had a past experience with this stuff, even murder," he starts. He crosses his arms and looks me dead in the eye. "Tell me something Effenie... Who'd you kill?"

Chapter 4 - I miss you too.

I suggest you listen to this while reading: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IakDItZ7f7Q

  “Effenie, I’m so sorry, is it really that hard on you?” Grace comforts as I rest my head on her shoulder and sob. It was the next day, he was a one-night stand and I was still mourning over Bren. I was probably in shock, or crying over the way he died, but tears continuously spill from my eyes and onto my cousin’s shirt. I’m hugging her way too hard when there’s a knock at the front door. Grace walks me over to the couch and sits me down, squeezing my shoulder gently. She leaves to get the door, when I hear it open, then close just as fast. Grace comes around the couch and into view with a big, toothy grin on her face. I wipe my eyes with my hand, only to see that my mascara has already started running.

    “Who’s at the door?” I sniffle as Grace sits beside me on the couch.

     Her smile stays, “Oh, no one.”

    “Effenie? It’s me,” a voice calls from the door, muffled, but recognizable. It’s not just any voice, it’s Erik’s. I glare at Grace and stand up, walking to the door and opening it with blurry eyes. He looked the same as he did yesterday, just… Clothed. He sees my mascara and tear stained face and pulls me into a big, warm hug. I cry on his shoulder for a while and tell myself I’d never felt more comforted or safe in another one’s arms. Soon enough, I have no more tears to spill, but I stay next to Erik, with his arm draped around my shoulders. When Grace turns towards the kitchen and away from us, he kisses my cheek softly and my mood shifts slowly. I become more relaxed.

     “So, uh, Erik… I thought you two weren’t really… Friends anymore,” Grace states, prepping the coffee machine. I tense up again. Oh shit, I didn’t have an explanation as to why Erik and I were still friends. Hell, I didn’t even know why I’d given in so easily to him. Maybe I’d felt insecure. Maybe sex was the only solution. I highly doubted that last thought. I mean, sure, I’d gotten “it” on with Bren, a total stranger and a few guys throughout university (including Erik), but in this generation, who didn’t? I wasn’t sex-obsessed; I would like to think myself as being a romantic. Only thing I would ever have to watch would be my alcohol consumption. Maybe I let him in so quickly because thinking of Emilie made me feel vulnerable. I could never reveal what happened to anyone but myself, I couldn’t even accept what happened was real. I couldn’t accept that I stood by stupidly while Emilie… I can’t think of it anymore. My head spins crazily and I grab onto Erik’s shoulder for support.

“We uh, have gotten over our differences and we’ve decided on being friends,” he answers coolly. Friends? More like friends with benefits. I smirk at my thoughts and get shot confused looks from both of them.

   “Well, a friend of Eff’s is a friend of mine,” Grace says bitterly, grimacing. She pours three mugs of steaming coffee and hands one to me. She picks up the last two mugs and shoves one into Erik’s hand. A small dark wave of coffee spills over the rim of the porcelain mug and onto his wrist. A smile spreads on Grace’s face and she takes a sip of her own mug.

 

     “Oops, sorry,” she says, pulling herself onto the island and letting her legs dangle. I scowl at her and grab a cloth, to wipe the coffee from his skin, which has already burned and turned red. I rub the cloth gently along his wrist, and then quickly squeeze his hand. Why had we broken up? Differences… Differences in opinion? Probably. I remember instantly. It’s like that saying, ‘It’s not you, it’s me’, except in my case, it was actually true. I was angry one night, not at him, but at myself. I was angry at my frustration for an assignment in university. I remember I was screaming, and he was trying to calm me down. Then, without thinking straight, I broke it off, locked myself in without him. In tears, I told him I had to concentrate on myself, no distractions. Then, he simply walked out of the apartment, speechless. 

Ever since then, I’d felt empty, and I had been meaning to call and talk to him, but I could never build the courage to talk to him without feeling guilty. Even though it wasn’t the longest relationship in the world, I had been falling for him pretty hard. I guess I didn’t even know what I was thinking, but all actions have consequences, and I wasn’t prepared to face what I had caused. That led to drinking and depressing poetry. The four following years, leading up to now, had been horrid, I hadn’t really thought that if I was in a relationship, I would have someone to keep me grounded, I always looked on the negative side of things. It’s no surprise I took it hard, and alcohol helped the pain go away for a day or two, but it just kept coming back. Seeing me like that caused Grace to develop a certain hate for a certain person, and I’ve always felt bad that she’s never been able to see the good side of him, before I introduced her to my mistake. I didn’t expect him that night he came over. We hadn’t talked in forever, and when he said he missed me, I guess I just melted. That, and the ever-haunting memory of Emilie. Our relationship wasn’t just sex, I actually still had feelings for him, and he was really good in bed, but that wasn’t the point. I look at Erik, who has put his mug on the island and is looking down at me.

      “You okay?” he asks. I nod quickly and just look at him. I missed him too. I really did. “Good, well, I could only stay for a couple of minutes, so I best be on my way out. Nice seeing you again Grace.” She mumbles something neither of us can comprehend, and he gives a small wave before leaving.

“Really Grace, really?” I say, locking the door and turning around to face her. I was aware about robbers in our part of the city. She shrugs and takes another long sip of coffee, but I can tell that behind the mug, her smile has never been bigger.  “You shouldn’t have been so ru-“ I’m cut off by the sound of the front door’s knob turning. We both turn to look at it. The door shakes, as if someone was trying to open it. Correction, someone was trying to open it.

    

     “Hello?” Grace calls out.  She sets her coffee down and gets off the island to stand next to me. We both stare at the door, which has gone completely still, until it shakes again and spooks both of us.

    “Open up,” a strange voice responds. I step cautiously towards the door to look through the peephole. The last thing I expected to see was a gun pointed to little glass circle. I step backwards, scared.

     “He’s got a gun,” I whisper to my cousin. She grabs my arm and pulls me around the island, then yanks me down to hide behind it with her.

     Then, the door lock is shot off, and the intruder comes into my home.

Chapter 3 - News.

*WARNING - Includes Sexual Content*

I suggest you listen to this while reading:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Te37DgFi7CM

I fell asleep in his arms, his safe and comfortable arms. I woke up in them too. One full day of sobriety and counting. I turn around and sigh, Erik was up too.

  “I’m guessing you enjoyed yourself last night, I heard my name enough,” he smirks. I blush and smile sheepishly as he touches my cheek. I had a gorgeous man in my bed… And he was naked. So was I. I prop my naked self up on my elbows and look over at the clock. Eleven twenty seven. I had promised Grace yesterday to meet for lunch at noon.

   “Oh shit!” I curse. Grace despised Eric. Eric was still here. “You need to get out of here!” He was puzzled. I explain why, and when he stands up, I can’t help looking. He notices me looking, not staring… I wasn’t staring. Erik Sanders winks and I’m turned on in that instant. I wish desperately that I could pull him back onto the bed. He dresses, kisses me on the forehead, shoots me an “I’ll text you later” and lets himself out.

There’s nothing to strip, so I just jump into the shower. I turn the handle and icy water sends chills down my bare back. I shrill and step out of the way of the frigid water’s path. Then, I get a quick glance at the mirror. The carved in word has sprung cracks near the corners of each letter. It looked almost extra terrestrial, or like a book cover. I feel warm water pool around my feet and step under the raining showerhead, soaking my hair and body with warm bliss. An image of Emilie standing over my crumpled self on the floor flashes epileptically in front of my eyes. I’ve decided I’ve stayed in the shower long enough and dizzily step onto the cold tiled floor. I wrap a white towel around my body and walk out of the bathroom. On my way there, I open the window to rid the apartment of the lingering smells of alcohol and sex. When I reach my tiny bedroom, the front door opens. I take jeans and a tank top from my dresser; grab my underwear from the floor and dress.

   “I’m here,” Grace shouts from the living room. Still pulling my shirt on, I walk out of the bedroom calmly, and see my cousin lounging on the couch, using her hand as a type of visor to shield her eyes from the overhead lights.

   “Headache?” I ask, although I already know her head is probably pounding. I swipe the apartment keys off the island and then realize something. On Tuesday, I had thrown the keys and they’d slid off… And I put them on the counter, not the island.

   “What the hell?” I breathe. Grace is as unhelpful as ever as she takes the remote, flicks on the news, turns up the volume, and stays unresponsive. I cook up some grilled cheeses, although I have absolutely no appetite, and set the plates on the coffee table. I look at the news channel that’s displayed on the TV.

  “Am I hearing this right? Death by… Pencil?” a blonde reporter stammers. She presses two fingers to her ears as she is fed information through her earpiece. “Apparently, someone had a pencil skewer their eye, very… Gruesomely, like the Joker did in the Batman movie, The Dark Knight.”

   She was cut off as the news station aired the Joker clip. I stared in horror at how someone would’ve done this in real life. This was taking movie reenacting a bit too seriously. The blonde’s face pops back up after the clip and she clears her throat.

   “The victim was one Bren Stevens, from Toronto, Ontario.”

   My jaw dropped as they showed a picture of the guy. Three words flew around my mind. I. Knew. Him. 

“He’s cute,” a familiar voice whispered in my ear. I felt Emilie walk around me and stand next to me. I set my drink down and leaned back against the counter. I looked around the ship’s only club, illuminated by black lights, and spotted the guy Emilie had been talking about in a matter of seconds. He was cute, extremely cute. He had dark brown hair, mysterious eyes and a tall figure. He was also staring at me. He winked and gestured I come dance with him. Emilie must’ve thought he was silently communicating with her, and he might’ve been, because her posture had straightened up fast. She leaned against the bar and sighed.

   “I was talking with him earlier, his name is Bren,” Emilie purred. “And damn.” She liked him. It was incredibly obvious. I picked my drink back up and took a sip. I leaned in close to Emilie. Her dress was basically glowing different colors from the lights.

 

 “Go dance with him then,” I started as I tipped my martini glass in his direction. I downed the rest and put the empty glass back on the bar. “If not, I will.” This caught her attention. She whipped her head around to shoot a glare at me. She didn’t move though, not one little movement.

  “Go right ahead,” she whispered, staring off into nowhere. She turned around and put her elbows on the bar. It was killing her to tell me I could go, but the alcohol in my system refused to let me believe it was hurting her then. Pulling up my dress just in case, I walked up to Bren, who still had his eyes on me, and started dancing with him. The atmosphere that night was hot and sexy, music pounding through the speakers and couples nonchalantly making out on the seats in the corner. Maybe I’d be lucky and find myself in that corner later.

   “What’s your name beautiful?” he whispered as I grinded against. I looked over at Emilie, upset and sipping on her drink.

   “Effenie. My friend over there tells me your name is Bren,” I smirked at him and pressed my body against his again. I grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and rested my head on his shoulder.

  “Maybe we should get to know each other a little better,” he suggested, whispering it ever so closely to my ear, then kissing behind it, leading down to my neck. He had great ideas.

   Making out with a stranger who smelled sexily of cigarettes wasn’t technically my thing, but I enjoyed this change. His hands pressed against my head, pulling me into his forceful kiss. He was rough. I liked it rough. I let my hand run from his neck to his chest. We were in the corner, next to another couple who seemed unaware of the other people. I had been straddling him for the past half an hour or so, and Emile must’ve left after ten minutes. After a couple of minutes, his hands have left my hair and head towards my ass, trailing against my back. I felt the warmth of his fingers through my skintight dress. When I felt his hands nearing his target, I straightened up on his lap and caught his wrists behind my back. I smiled and snaked my body back down onto his.

   “We’re just getting to know each other, remember?” I whispered against his lips.

   The rest of the night surely led up to more than “just getting to know each other”. He’d led me back to his room on the ship. I’d sat with him on the miniature couch, bare legs across his lap. We’d also drank a few shots of Vodka. We’d chatted. Then he’d started sliding his hands up my legs. My dress came off, and the rest of what happened is pretty predictable. One last thing to say: He’d found is target, and he had easily hit the bullseye.

He was dead. We had a past, you could say, a relationship. Nobody could be accidently stabbed with a pencil in his or her eye.

  “The police have not released any information on this case, but we can assume this was murder.” the reporter continues.

  If assumptions could be made, I knew exactly what I was assuming. I was assuming I knew who the criminal was. One could only have suspicions, right?