I stumbled around the home, avoiding friends and plunging into the unknown. 

I'd heard of these stories before. I knew about Amalia and Deshawn's relationship and how they'd walk into a party hand in hand but leave while screaming at each other. I saw Marco and Deshawn's friendship, two guys you either wanted to be or know. Then it all stopped and Deshawn died. 

I retreated to the foyer and wondered if they'd even turned up. If this party was for Deshawn, would they have risked it? Did their hate run that deep or was it a silly misunderstanding washed away by the seriousness of his death? If Deshawn hadn't have died, would they have made up?

There were still so many people and I struggled to see above it all as my tiredness caught up with me. Every so often somebody walked straight through the dead boy. My heart would stutter at their expression, it was almost as if they could see him or at least feel the cold he carried. But alas, they continued walking or drinking or dancing and left us behind. 

"There she is. There's Amalia, right there." Deshawn clasped my arm, causing me to stop. He pointed out in front of us and I followed his gaze to the girl. She stood wordlessly surrounded by a group of her friends who talked loudly in the kitchen. A vacant expression settled in her brown eyes and she looked a million miles away while fumbling with the pretty print of her long, floral dress. 

"Cheeky of her to come to the party that's in my honor," he muttered amusedly. 

Her long, black hair shone under the gleaming lights of the party, kept out of her face by the baby blue headband. Her eyeshadow was light but complimented the simple beauty of her face. It all tied in nicely together making it difficult to believe someone like Amalia would have the ability to kill.  

I glided over to the kitchen and snuck in between to the group that Amalia surrounded herself with. Each had a bottle or can of something in their hands so I swiped one from the counter to fit in and leaned against the kitchen island. Their conversation was dismal and the heat of the house had finally reached my head, making me dizzy. 

When Amalia took a sip of her drink, the dazed look that had glossed over her eyes dissipated momentarily and this was my best chance at starting a conversation. With a painted-on grin, I turned to her. "Hey." 

She stared at me blankly, it looked like she could see right through me. It was as if she knew all my secrets at that moment and it would only take her a second to expose them all. I wondered if maybe she could see Deshawn.

"Reniella." She finally smiled. With a sickly sweet voice, she continued, "How are you since everything?" 

By everything, I assumed she meant finding Deshawn's body. So, by that logic, she knew me too. Though Amalia didn't go to Zobel College, she was rich enough for it. If the school wasn't a college for boys, she'd be there with the rest of the Zobel spoiled kids, sneering and luring. 

Sometimes it felt that all the rich, city kids weren't real people, to begin with. Even though we went to the same parties and talked to the same people, they seemed more like myths than truth. So, it was easy to pretend that they didn't know or understand us, valley kids. It was easy to parade around and not care about the repercussions if they didn't know who you were. More often than not though, they did know though. They knew everything.

As her brown eyes raked over me, I felt her curiosity almost as strong as Kingsley's presence beside me. It was intimidating but other than the frown etched into her pink lips, she looked completely harmless. 

"I'm good thanks, and you?" I forced my voice to be anything but the usual bitterness. "I heard that you and Deshawn were close, surely this must be hard." 

I pried shamelessly into her business and tried to provoke an emotion. It was a longshot but maybe thanks to the alcohol and grief, she'd explode. Amalia didn't seem drunk though, the complete opposite, even. She was deathly still and in control. 

"It's been hard. Obviously, it's difficult. Deshawn and I were together for a long time, you see. He knew me better than anyone and gosh, the things I told him-" Amalia faltered, a mistake that she covered with a cough. "It's like everything's different now, we're all so different." 

Before either of us could've continued, a blonde threw her arms around Amalia in a close grip. She thrust her head on Amalia's shoulder with an over-dramatic sigh.

"It's okay, Ami." She comforted her. "He's gone now. He can't hurt you anymore." 

My eyebrows furrowed deeply in the way they always did. The way where a crease was forming between the two, I knew. "He hurt you?" 

Amalia choked up a laugh. "Gosh no, not physically. But if he had, it would've made our break-up a lot easier. It would've been a lot easier to hate him. But I didn't - I don't. I mean, he said a lot of things about me, that hurt, of course. It's sad that he's gone but I guess now at least all my secrets, all the lies and rumors and heartbreak has died along with him. That's all I wanted, for it all to stop. It's a shame somebody had to die for it to happen, though." 

Deshawn's rage radiated in blistering waves while he shook to control himself. "There she goes, playing her little pity games. That's all anyone has done tonight. And because she's a girl and pretty, it works for her. So while she gets to play the victim here, I'm too dead to defend myself. This is bullshit. I can't count on any of these bastards for anything. Taron's too busy seducing girls with his pathetic fucking sob story, Marco hates me and everybody is too drunk to concentrate on anything."

His voice was louder than I'd ever heard it and the intensity caused my head to throb. 

"One second he loved me and the next he just...didn't anymore. I couldn't understand it at all, it felt like he'd just clicked a switch or something. He was a generally nice person to be around but when he didn't like you, he made it clear. I saw the way he threw those deadly glares and turned a cold shoulder and I felt so grateful that I got to see those smiles. Those smiles seemed reserved for just me. Then suddenly, they weren't a-" She cut herself off with a chesty cough that she caught with her hand. The blonde girl that clung to Amalia's neck didn't seem to notice the way I slowly broke her friend apart piece by piece. 

"Stop." Deshawn breathed out. I knew it was aimed more at Amalia than it was to me though. I watched as he cut into the empty space beside her and simply observed his ex silently. Amalia's lip quivered and she breathed in deeply to calm her restless heart and blubbering lips. While her friends danced and sung and drank around us, we three were stuck in our own secluded bubble. Even the blonde had pried herself away and the noise muffled into deep whispers around us. 

"I just wish we could've left it on good terms," she murmured. Deshawn slowly raised his hand as if he'd done it a thousand times before and captured the stray ends of her midnight black hair. He curled it around the tip of his fingers and she visibly shivered. I held my breath. 

"Well good riddance to it," she exploded. Deshawn retracted his hand swiftly like he'd been burnt by her passionate bitterness towards him. Dead or alive. She ran her hands through her silky hair with a sigh that spoke volume. The gesture conveyed her exhaustion and frustration all in one. 

"What did he say about you?" I pushed. As if he could feel a second outburst on the rocks, Deshawn glided to refuge behind me.