"I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fast, I am alone at midnight. Been trying hard not to get into trouble but there's a war in my mind. I just ride."
Ride - Lana Del Rey


I stand at the shore barefoot with tears pouring down my cheeks silently, my hands shaking violently, fingers curled in a white-knuckle grip around the bag that contained the remains of Reece Holland.

The bag is heavy and slimy, bleeding out a dark pool around my ankles that is slowly being lapped out to sea every time the water on the shore came up a little too far.

"I can't do this." I sob, unable to will myself to look back at Andy's pensive clone standing several feet away, arms crossed and dark eyes trained on me, searching for the weakness that is very obviously there.

"You don't have a lot of choices." He reminds me in a cold tone. "Just drag him out a couple hundred feet. I'll do the rest. Afterward, I will tell you everything you want to know and you can protect those that you really love. Believe me, I'm not the scariest thing out here, you'll do good to have the information to protect them."

I clench my teeth to keep them from rattling. My stomach is churning uneasily."He was a nobody," He reminds in a calm voice. "don't waste this gift of knowledge on guilt for him."

"How do I know you'll keep your word?" I breathe, my voice strangled.

"You don't." He replies grimly, "You'll just have to trust me."

I say nothing, unable to utter another word because of the conflicting nerves controlling me."You can trust me, right? I mean, you trust Andy, don't you? Just close your eyes and pretend I'm him."

"Andy would never ask this of me." I breathe, squeezing my eyes shut to force out the tears sitting on the edge of my lower lids. They quickly follow the damp path down my cheeks carved by the ones that had come before them. I open my eyes, the first thing I see is the lights on the other side of the lake. Someone's party, people having a nice time, completely oblivious to the things taking place on the opposite side.

"Okay, hypothetical question here... If he ever did, could you do it? Do you love him that much?"

"That has nothing to do with love." I spat in a low, trembling voice.

"Maybe not..." He muses, lighting a cigarette to complete the silhouette of Andy and all his traits. I watch him, the weight in my hand beginning to make my wrist hurt.

"Maybe it's all your good-girl morals. That's what it is, right? You're a church girl, you can't bury a kid in a lake." He shrugs, deeply inhaling the smoke with a thoughtful expression dully illuminated on his face.

"Or is it the place of choice?" He asks, raising his eyebrows in a semi-surprised fashion as though it were a new idea he hadn't thought of yet. "This lake is quite special to you and your parents. It sure would be a shame if it were spoiled by this kid's rotting corpse." He nods toward the bag.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter. Just get it out there and I'll handle the rest."

"What about my dress?" I frown, looking down at the pretty fabric my mother had invested countless hours into constructing.

"What about it? Ash, this is basic shit. It's a wad of fabric you'll never wear again. Fuck it."

I force my head to remain high despite my vision blurring with more tears.

"Do you need more motivation? I'd be happy to apply more pressure if you need it. Seriously, I need to start wrapping up loose ends tonight because tomorrow you will have chirped to everyone about the truth. Except for this, you can never tell anyone what we did tonight. If you ever did, and I'd know if you did, I'd kill your family."

He says all of this in such a matter-of-fact tone. I swallow hard, feeling the pain in my chest while my heart struggles to process the onslaught of pain and heartache.

I take a deep breathe, reminding myself mentally that I can do this... But it doesn't help me get past the fact that it is extremely fucked up.

"What about the weight? He'll pull me down out there. I can't swim well enough to support myself and this." I tug at the plastic bag, earning myself a shrug in response to my inquiry.

"If you drown it's because you weren't trying hard enough to get it done. Dedication and determination are fickle things... Don't lose sight of the end goal out there or yeah... You'll probably die."

"So it's my lack of determination that will lead to my own demise when you are consciously making the decision to put me out there!" I raise my voice, daring to look at him with a glare.

He reaches into his coat and swiftly unfolds a switchblade, pointing it in my direction. "Friendly reminder that this will hurt far less than any other way I could choose to kill you. Shut it and get it done. Your loved ones depend on how well you execute this. Every tear that rolls down your cheek, every quiver in your lip, it's only going to make it worse."

I press my lips into a hard, thin line to keep them from trembling anymore. I turn back toward the water and take another breath... I am running out of time, he's fed up with my stalling.

"You know, I bet CC would be down for a friendly chat tonight," he says dryly. "I can go paint the walls of his apartment with his-"

"Fine!" I shout, the word echoing off the towering pines around the small clearing. I squeeze my eyes shut for several seconds before opening them again, exhaling slowly to recalibrate my brain.

"I'll do it."

I step out into the water, the temperature is freezing and instantly causes the muscles in my feet and legs to seize up and ache in response to the sudden change. Despite the pins and needles agony of my feet, I trudge forward, dragging my cargo along behind me.

I hesitate for a moment, looking down at the nice lace one last time, taking a mental snapshot of how it looked before I step in further, continuing in deeper, allowing the murky water to consume the mint blue fabric.

The bag of dismembered pieces floats beside me surprisingly well... I did not watch as 'Andy' modified Reece to make him easier to fit into the trash bag. I felt sick to my stomach listening to the sounds though and my nose could not help but pick up on the rusty notes of fresh blood.

The smell tickles my nose now, the repulsive stink of death already forming. I take more deep breaths to keep my cool, breathing in and old slowly as I venture out further into the unknown.

I squeeze my eyes shut and search hard for a memory, any memory, to make this bearable. One comes to mind and I sigh in relief and allow the feeling of nostalgia to consume me as I sink into that memory.

I am seven years old, running down the sidewalk in front of my house trying to catch up to my parents. We were on our way to Apture house for a picnic and I had brought my little pink wagon along. It rattled nosily behind me as I ran, tugging its handle, my little arms aching from pulling its weight up the uphill slope.

The wagon was full of what I'd call my personal essentials. All my favorite stuffed animals, coloring books, and story books. Me and my parents were headed for one of our favorite places to spend our afternoons and we were destined to get in some reading and some good chatting.

I remember being blinded by the bright sunlight reflecting off the white concrete. It stung my eyes and had me disoriented. It was my parents constant calls for me to keep up that had me on the right track.

That wagon only seemed to get heavier as I climbed the slope of the sidewalk. Of course it wasn't that big of a feat, but man did it feel like I was really achieving something by doing it. The weight felt like it was dragging me backward after a while, the innocent pink wagon suddenly my worst enemy in this hot, muggy summer heat.

I open my eyes to the darkness, still walking forward, my little pink wagon replaced by the chopped up remains of my best friend's dead boyfriend. Try and top that one, you can't.

More deep breaths to help me stay calm as the rising cold water was making my heartbeat frantic and my limbs shaky. I don't dare look back to the shore, no matter how tempted I feel to see how far I'd gone already. I couldn't look back at his sinister silhouette backlit by the headlights of CC's beloved car.

Oh CC... What would I tell him? What can I tell anyone? They'll surely think I am insane or worse... And with the latest threat on the table, I don't even know what boundaries are in place and what I am allowed to disclose to them.

In the pale moon light, I can see my own breath curling up from my lips, hovering in the chilly spring air. With another violent shiver, I submerge my lower ribs into the icy blackness. This is a bold contrast from the temperature of the California ocean the night Andy took me swimming.

Thinking about the happier times is the only thing getting me through this. Between the shivering and the upset turning of my stomach and my guilt, it's the one beam of light for me to run for.

I see out ahead another hundred feet where I'd been instructed to leave him and he'd take care of the rest. With he muddy soil under my feet quickly sloping downward, I realize with a strike of fear that I'd have no choice but to tread water or drown out here.

Surely if he needs me as much as he claims to, he wouldn't let that happen... Then again he seems to have little care for human life and everything about it so perhaps it is foolish of me to believe that I'll be safe at all.

I dig my heels into the dirt, trudging forward, now struggling to wrestle the bag that bobs awkwardly alongside me. I yank it forward with a sharp tug, feeling the strain forming in the muscles of my forearms as I do so.

The bag bumps against my side, making my skin crawl in disgust when the gelanous contents press against my with only a thin piece of plastic between me and it. I move quicker, forcing my frozen feet to carry me forward toward the finish line, fresh tears forming in my eyes the whole way while I keep searching for my exit.

Who knows what else awaits me tonight. Any number of things could happen before the first rays of dawn break over the horizon and he has to return me home and disappear. I'd try my damnedest to get the information I need while I am here, though... If he is really telling the truth when he says he is not the scariest thing out there, then I better step it up and dig in because I cannot afford any more fuckups. I'm already pissed at myself for letting the wolf in sheep's clothing into my home. My safe place full of good memories tainted by his incurable darkness.

Why the Hell?.... How the Hell... Out of all the people over the years that had surely walked those woods and come close to his hiding place where he laid in wait... Why me? Why now? There has to be much more to it than me just being 'special'. I'm the average American girl, there is nothing too spectacular about me, yet it's managed to help me attract the unwanted affection of way too many ghosts.

Charlie fucking Apture... The details of his story buzz around in my head like a dull hum as I wade toward the finish line, my feet finally drifting free of the rough icy sand, leaving me to paddle for my life in the freezing deep waters.

His story was a tragic one... Even so the details don't line up with all that I've observed of his character now. The legacy of Charlie Apture that we had experienced in the woods feels very different from this one. This one is unsure but calculated... Perhaps a little inexperienced, even... He made stupid mistakes that he couldn't correct, some of them intentional, others not. Some were just for show.

I don't know if you've ever felt this before, but the feeling is almost indescribable... It's total terror for a million reasons attacking you all at once. I'm up to my neck in freezing water, swimming blind, dragging along a body bag behind me while praying I don't die of hypothermia or drown in the process... Not to mention all the little things like what happens next? What will they think? What will happen to me? How can I even do this? How will I move on? I can't do this...

My frantic paddling in the water only increases my heart rate. The end is in sight and I kept getting dragged down by the weight. The bag floats pretty well on its own, but its awkward weight distribution causes it to sink down and it pulls me with it each time.

The icy water curls around my throat, matting down my nice curls to my skin, sucking all the life right out of them.

Just a little further...

My muscles are locking up, refusing to function in the arctic conditions. The cold air against my wet skin is agony.

"You're doing great." I hear him yell to me from the beach, his tone doubtful and degrading. I clench my teeth and dig in for the last twenty-five feet. It takes all my strength to will my mind away from thinking about the contents of the bag and what the aftermath of everything might be. Even the smallest deviating thought is enough to leave a devastating blow of anxiety.

"No... No no no..." I cry out when I realize that the trashbag has formed a hole and is quickly filling up with water, the weight dragging it toward the lake floor, pulling me with it. I struggle against it, trying to force it to cooperate with me to make it just a little further but by now my arms are weak, my chest heaving, and I am ready to give up.

For all the water rushing in, it is also pushing out a lot of blood. The fabric of my dress soaks it up immediately, the mint blue fabric staining like a dark plague moving through it.

I scream out as the weight of the bag pulls me downward. Fear has tightened my knuckles around the plastic like a vice, me unable to let go, fearful of what would happen to my family and friends if I gave up right here. I couldn't.

My whole head plunges under the surface of the murky water. I kick around, trying to right myself and keep swimming, but it's not working well for me. I kick my feet, desperate to make some progress forward, but all the added weight is making the progress agonizingly slow and tiring.

My lungs begin to burn as time runs out, I need to let go of this bag...

I look toward where I think the surface is, but it's all black and I'm lost in the darkness. Memories of being locked in that flooded cellar quickly come back to me... How it felt, how my lungs burned, full of the chilled spring rain. I could not scream out or do anything to save my own life but struggle and thrash around until the strange calmness came over me, ready to take me to the light.

I'd fought against it then, and I could do it again. I keep seeing the faces of my friends and family in my head, their smiles, completely oblivious to the horrors I face each day to make sure that they are safe...

What comes after all of this?

I kick hard, scraping toward the surface with my one hand, but it's only getting further away. With a sinking of my heart, I make the difficult decision to let the bag go to swim to the surface.

I break through, gasping for air, shivering violently and frantically looking around myself. I see him on the closest land mass, pacing and watching the water closely. All the other beaches and banks are too far away for me to reach in my weakening state.

I feel sick to my stomach, entirely unsure as to what I am supposed to call him now... I grudgingly make the decision to call out the only name I knew him by.

"Andy!"

I hate the way it sounds now, the desperation clear in my voice while I silently pray for that evil fucker to hear me.

"Help!"

I swim hard, as fast as I can manage with my numb body. I am so cold, inside and out that I begin to feel spikes of fear for what will happen to me if I don't hurry. I might very well be seeing the end of this night well before dawn.

I keep pushing forward, occasionally looking to the shore to see if he'd waded into the water yet or would be making any kind of effort to save me. He stood still at the water's edge, arms crossed, a dark silhouette illuminated by the headlights behind him.

I swim until my lungs are burning and I can finally dig my hands into the sand of the slope toward the beach. I practically have to crawl, struggling enough in the dress to make decent progress that doesn't look absolutely pathetic.

I crawl up onto the dry sand and crumble, breathing in a heavy, panicked, near hyperventilation fashion. He comes to stand over me and watch with a curious look on his face.

"Didn't you fucking hear me?" I choke out, spitting out lake water that tastes like blood... Maybe it's Reece's, maybe it's mine...

"I did," He replies in a calm voice, showing no concern for my well being or current condition. "This is all apart of the weakness plan."

"Then what the hell's the point?" I breathe through clenched, chattering teeth. "If I die, you have no body to use for your resurrection."

"True," He nods slowly as though this were a real problem to contemplate but I can tell from the look in his eyes that he's already thought well ahead and has everything planned with 50+ backup plans for every possible inconvenience.

He extends his hand toward me to help me up, but I physically cannot move. I lie there, violently shivering, droplets of lake water running into my eyes from my hairline.

"You alright?"

With a stiff shake of my head, I signal a firm no to him. A look of concern crosses his face and for a moment I almost believe that it is really Andy. He circles me halfway and crouches toward me, scooping me up into his arms like he had many times in the past, cradling me to his chest while he carries me back to the car, placing me in the passenger seat and turning up the heater.

"Stay here for a moment while I finish things up." He winks at me and shuts the door behind him, turning off the interior lights. I watch him in the mirror as he picks up his makeshift anchors and walks out into the lake with ease.

I am numb all over, shivering too hard to even think of trying to escape. I look out the passenger windows at the bleak darkness then back at the clock on the dashboard. 2:46 AM

I take a deep breath that causes me to cough, my weakened lungs feel shattered in my chest, sending up more of the lake water they contain.

Earlier, in the light from the dash, I could see droplets of Reece's blood decorating Andy's collar, now in those same lights, I see the large blotches all over my dress, most of the beautiful blue gone, consumed by patches of wet mud, blood and algae.

Staring at it strikes something in my heart and the tears well up in my eyes for a million different reasons. My shoulders shake as the sobs come, the panicked breaths as I finally allow myself to come undone and feel the complete pain for what I'd caused. The guilt sits heavily on my shoulders now, a constant reminder that if I'd truly opened my eyes, things would not have gone this way. Thank God Eliza was not harmed.

I lift my head, wiping under my eyes. I pull down the overhead mirror and stare into my eyes. Even when cast in the blue shadows of the interior, I can see myself. My frantic, bloodshot eyes, the shiny fresh tears on my cheeks and my trashed hair. My makeup is now spending more of its time dripping down my cheeks than on my eyelids.

I slam it shut, curling my freezing hands against my chest, the scalding hot temperatures coming out of the heater vent doing nothing to break through the icy chill that had already set deep into my bones.

I dare to look out the windshield again, watching the black mass in the water walking slowly out, so dramatically as though he were in a Dior commercial. Only it does not invoke feelings of attraction or romance, but spikes of prickly fear that has me once again fearing for my life.

I breathe more rapidly, each huff of air doing nothing to calm me down, only making it all worse. I realize at once that I am experiencing a panic attack.

"You're okay," I breathe, squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head, more helpless tears rolling down my cheeks. "You are going to be okay."

I can't make myself believe the lie... I look up again and this time he is marching across the beach toward the car in his suit, dripping wet. I swallow hard, watching him open his door and get in, immediately looking over at me.

"You didn't take him to the center like I told you to." He says in a low voice. "It's very dangerous to take risks like that."

I want to retaliate, to tell him that I tried my hardest and that I was sorry, but through the violent vibrations of my teeth chattering together, I can't even muster up the strength to get out a single word.

"Are you warm enough?" He asks, suddenly caring, sweet Andy again. He reaches for the heater and fiddles with the knobs a bit. "Are you going to be okay? I'm not the one with the revival powers, so please don't die or get sick."

I glare at him with all the strength that I can, praying that he can feel the burning sensation on his skin.

I exhale slowly, trying to relax into the seat a bit and allow the hot air blowing at my face to warm my skin even the slightest bit. After several minutes of silence, I have warmed up enough to address him.

"What- What do I call you?" I ask in a shaky voice, avoiding his eyes in favor of staring at the dashboard clock.

"Call me what you always have. Andy."

"I can't." I shake my head, voice cracking. "That's the name of someone I love, not this imposter living in his shell." I gesture loosely toward him with a disgusted look on my face.

"Okay, then call me Charles."

I raise an eyebrow at him to come off as unamused but I am purely chilled to the bone by him admitting his own name.

"I did tell you that if you completed the task, I'd tell you anything that you wanted or needed to know. That offer still stands." He stares out the windshield looking like he is contemplating a million little things at once.

I take a deep breath and dig deep for more questions. Now is the first and most likely last chance for me to do this so I'd better do it right. By this time, I have composed myself a little bit more and am ready to get into the difficult questions.

"Explain yourself... Who are you? Where did you come from?"

"Do you really want my life story?"

I nod.

He sighs, but it isn't a happy sigh... It's the sigh of someone about to dig into their worst memories for the entertainment of others.

"Before I do that, I want to know your theories and assumptions about me."

My brow creases in deep thought while I think. "Your name is Charlie Apture, you lived in the Apture house with your wife until she passed and stricken by grief, you took to the mountains and surrounding forest to begin your spree over the course of many years plucking people of all ages, walks of life and gender out of the town to be apart of your cult-esque experiments."

He looks surprised for a moment, and that surprises me.

"It shocks me," he begins with a small chuckle "how wrong you are just now. You're missing a crucial detail in all of this."

I dare to look at his face again, he's looking at me.

"Charlie and Arlene Apture did in fact live happily together for many years in the Apture house... What you're missing is that they were not alone there. They had a son. Me, named after my father respectfully but I would later adopt the nickname Charles to separate us."

"So you're not... Charlie?"

He shakes his head, pursing his lips.

"Okay, so then are you the one who killed all those people?"

"Yes. But here's a cool secret to put your mind at ease... The entire gravesite and ritual site you found in the woods? It doesn't actually exist."

"I saw it."

"You did, but you didn't... You read about the mirrored realities in your book, didn't you? That's what I created and during that entire trip, I posed as Andy, guiding you on a tour of the horrific things that had taken place to make you believe that things were so much worse than they were to break your mind. Did it work?"

"It did a good job." I scoff without humor. "I thought I was going crazy after that."

"What other questions do you have?"

I look at him with tears brimming my eyes, unable to look into his eyes and feel anything else but a burning hatred. It's confusing my heart... This person I love, but I don't love what's in him.

"Why me?"

"Why not?" He shrugs, his eyes lingering on my face, making me feel uncomfortable.

"Then if the scene in the woods wasn't real, how many people did you actually kill?"

"Thirty seven."

I sit in silence, a mental image forming in my head while I imagine all these people, thirty seven people who had found themselves stuck in his trap.

"Why?" I breathe, scared of the inevitable answer.

"That requires a bit of a preface. Do you have the time?"

I look at the clock again, it's a little after three in the morning.

"Yeah..." I sigh, "Tell me."

Notes

Hello everyone! Glad you all liked the last update!