"Hey, Mar," Xander's voice rasped huskily through the phone. Fuck, the speakers on my phone didn't do it justice.

"Hey Xander," I greeted brightly, my cheeks tinging red at the thought of his lips against mine from a few nights ago. "How are you?"

As I waited for his reply, I managed to wheedle my car in between two others, for once attaining a parking spot less than half a mile from my actual apartment.

"I'm fine... how are you?" Xander asked quietly, his voice soft. I made my way to my apartment building as I tried to decide how exactly to answer.

"I'm okay, I guess," I lied, trying to separate him from all of the craziness that had entered my life this past week.

"Really? I heard about Evan," Xander replied, his tone colored with disbelief.

"I'm just trying to keep moving forward," I mumbled, unsure of how to proceed.

"That's all any of us can do," Xander agreed, and I let out a small sigh of relief. In the time I had been talking to Xander, I had made it to my apartment door. I slid the key into place, unlocking my door swiftly.

"So, why'd you call?" I asked, biting my lip unsurely.

"What? I can't call to check up on the girl I kissed to see how she's doing after I found out that her ex-boyfriend died in some freak way?" Xander chuckled. I felt a smile creep onto the corners of my lips as he continued. "Surprisingly, that's not my only reason. I wanted to ask you out. On a date-sorta thing."

"That sounds wonderful. What'd you have in mind?" I questioned, my small smile turning into a full-blown grin.

"A movie?" he suggested. "I'll pick you up at eight."

"I'll see you then," I replied, ending the call as I stepped into my apartment. In my state of euphoric elation, I almost tripped over another brown parcel left for me. This time, it was inside my apartment somehow, the idea of the person behind all of this being in my house making me sick to my stomach.

I've left a little present for you back at home.

I picked up the parcel, bringing it over to my kitchen counter once more, not knowing if I should open this one. If I didn't know what was inside of it, he couldn't use it to manipulate me, could he?

Curiosity got the better of me, and sliced the tape in half with my keys. I lifted the brown flaps of the box, sealing my fate to knowing whatever was inside this parcel.

Three images.

I shook the box and they fell out: the crisp photo papers betraying three faces I knew all too well.

Sage. Xander. Mason.

Thick sharpie letters were scrawled across each of the images, imitating crude captions.

The deceiver. The cheater. The liar.

My phone rang as I assessed the photos, dread painfully settling at the bottom of my gut. I didn't want to check my phone, I knew it was from him, and I didn't want to see his twisted explanation of how some of the most important people in my life fit under his horrifying accusations. My best friend for the past ten years couldn't be a deceiver. My new lover couldn't be cheater. My older brother couldn't be a liar.

It just wasn't possible.

But just as the inescapable curiosity that had ended me with opening the parcel, I had to look at the messages I was sent.

Unknown Number
2:39 P.M.
Did you enjoy your present?

Marcella Knights
2:41 P.M.
Why the fuck did you send me this? What the hell does it mean?

Unknown Number
2:42 P.M.
That you can't trust anyone you know.

Unknown Number
2:43 P.M.
Not even your precious little brother.