A/N: My sincere apologies for taking so long to update! Like I mentioned before, I was in the process of moving. I took a plane to visit my parents and I wanted to spend as much time with my family as I could before starting my fifteen-hour drive to my new home. Now, I am here! I'm in the process of building my first home, so still a little busy, lol, along with my mommy/wife duties I must uphold. Thank you for waiting! Also, I was nominated for 'Best OC Story' for the 2015 Until Dawn Awards. Thank you to everyone for the support!

Attention Readers! – Please read this, for this is fairly important. The overall introduction for my story is over; things are finally (I'm sorry!) going to pick up. Now, in certain scenarios, you guys are going to be picking the characters' decisions. You will be not be left clueless about them, however. There will be clues when it's comes to response choices: they can come in a form of a totem, an actual clue, or dialogue. (Ex: Chris explains how he's allergic to peanuts in a chapter; therefore you shouldn't offer him a PB&J sandwich in a later chapter. This, crazy enough, could lower stats, for you that means you weren't listening to him in the previous chapter). You won't be responsible for every decision; if there is a '(y/c)' next to the decision, it's all on you.

If you can keep the crucial characters alive, I will write a BONUS chapter after the story is complete.

Until Dusk

Chapter 6: "She's Not Okay"

Mike touched the possum; the possum scared Mike into oncoming traffic; Mike was almost hit

Mike touched the possum; the struggling possum triggered bad memories for Jess

Jen told Chris the truth; Ashley overheard; Ashley kicked Jen out

Jen told Chris the truth; Chris agreed to help

The echoes of classical, Christmas music, Frank Sinatra to specify, and silverware clanking against porcelain harmonized throughout the house. Despite it being the first dinner that the Halls' had with their daughter in years, it remained quiet. Usually, Mrs. Hall would sit opposite to her husband at the table, but decided that sitting next to her daughter was most appropriate tonight. Jessica's mother found herself constantly gawking; her eyes shifted between her husband and her daughter often; awaiting a overdue conversation. While Mrs. Hall glanced at Jessica's untouched plate, Mr. Hall cleared his throat for the sixth time.

...

'Have yourself a merry, little Christmas,

Let your heart be light,

From now on, our troubles will be out of sight,'

...

Mrs. Hall cleared her throat as she patted the edge of her mouth with a napkin, "Jessica, you should e–"

"–It's a little early for Christmas music, mom," Jessica interrupted, not even taking her eyes off of her plate. She knew both of her parents nearly dropped their forks when she spoke, so she followed her comment with a low chuckle, "It's barely November." Jessica continued to push her peas away from her pork tenderloin, only to fork the vegetables back to their original spot on her plate. Hunger was very evident, but she wasn't eating.

"You know your mother," Mr. Hall said as he eyed his glass of wine, "Christmas starts early in this household."

"Plus," Mrs. Hall began, "You used to love my Christmas music. When you and Daniel were younger–"

"–How's Daniel?" Jessica interjected, obviously not interested in her mother's recollection. Whether it was because she was genuinely uninterested or if it was because her mother shared the story every year, she didn't know. This time, however, Jessica glanced up at her mother as she spoke.

"Uh," Jessica's mother chimed, very much distracted by her daughter's eye contact. Mr. Hall, who babied a spoon of peas and rice in his hand, looked to his wife as he chewed his previous bite casually.

Jessica continued to eye her dazed mother, "Daniel, mom."

Once again, Mr. Hall cleared his throat as he watched himself cut off a piece of his pork, "Daniel, Denise; she's asking about Daniel," he practically mumbled.

"Oh!" Mrs. Hall exclaimed, "He's good! He's studying hard – he's well into his sophomore year of college now. I barely see the kid, but he's supposed to come back home for Christmas this year. It would be great to have both of babies home this year," she finished as she looked to Jessica and smiled.

"–And football!" Mr. Hall said bluntly, "He's playing football." He smiled happily; obviously overjoyed by his son's college experience. "You know," he began as he leaned forward, "I think your brother is going to be in the NFL."

"–Oh, Pete!" Denise said as she dropped her napkin onto her finished plate, "I don't know about that!" she laughed.

"–No, I'm serious! You should see some of his snaps! I clocked it once – do you know how fast it was?" Mr. Hall asked. He, then, died down into a gloating whisper, "This thing was pushing forty-five miles per–"

"–Isn't he third string?" Jessica asked, causing her father to shut up completely, "He's a snapper, right? So, like, he only gives the ball to someone else and that's it? I mean, if they even put him in, right?" Jessica watched her father's proud expression fade into a hybrid of disbelief and annoyance before looking back down at her plate.

After the awkward altercation, it ceased to silverware clinks and holiday music.

While Jessica poked at her food and Mr. Hall continued to eat, Denise watched her family in silence.

...

'Have yourself a merry, little Christmas,

Make the Yuletide gay,

From now on, our troubles will be miles away,'

...

"You know, I think you are burdened by regret," Mr. Hall challenged – his comment a quiet attack.

"–Pete!" Mrs. Hall exclaimed, completely shocked by her husband's behavior.

"–What do you mean?" Jessica rushed, her voice a background to her mother's defense.

"No," Mr. Hall pressed as he looked to his wife – his silverware crashing roughly onto his plate, "Jessica is just jealous of her brother!" He continued as he gesture an arm over to his daughter, "She's starting to regret her choices!" Mr. Hall, then, looked to his daughter and pointed to her, "You could have been a great cheerleader–shit–you could be cheering on the sidelines for your brother right now!"

"–I didn't want to be a cheerleader," Jessica defended.

Mr. Hall slammed a flat hand on the table, causing all of the dishes and his family to shake, "–But you insist on tearing your brother down because he's at where you want to be!"

"Pete," Denise chimed as she placed a hand on Mr. Hall's shoulder.

"No! She needs to hear this!" Mr. Hall's harsh gaze went from his wife back to his daughter, "You wanted to be a cheerleader–"

"A model!" Jessica spat back sternly.

"Yeah, well, guess what?" Mr. Hall exclaimed; his voice boisterous and angered, "You would have been a damn-good model, but you screwed that up! Instead of pursuing anything, you'd rather fart around with your loser friends – and what good came from that? Now your body is scarred with stitches that could have been avoided!"

"–PETE!"

"–You lost that chance!" Mr. Hall finished, his voice shaky from all of the intensity.

Mrs. Hall looked to her husband, who looked to her in almost-apology, and then looked to Jessica. "Honey," she said softly, "Your father didn't mean that – what happened wasn't your fault."

Jessica sniffed, despite not wanting to show her parents how much her father's words hurt her, and bit the side of her lip. After a rather large gulp, Jessica stood up from her seat. "I'd like to be excused," Jessica said as she glanced over to her mother. Her eyes were wet with betrayal, but her face showed absolutely nothing.

"Yes," Denise said as she smiled with a nod, "Of course, honey." She spoke softly and with understanding.

Jessica said nothing; she turned and walked away from the table quickly; like she was fighting back her emotions. She ran up the stairs, while her hand slid against the wood of the banister. There was no hiding it anymore; the loud stomps of her escape couldn't have been more obvious.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Hall looked to the stairs silently. After they heard the slam of a door, Mrs. Hall looked to her husband sadly.

Jessica fell lazily onto her childhood bed. Quite surprised that she didn't break down, or feel like breaking down, Jessica took a deep breath. After she rolled her head back, she looked at the headboard of her bed – oak wood, painted white, with a translucent, cream canopy that swallowed her upper half. Jessica also noticed that her glittery butterflies were still attached to the canopy material; the butterflies she begged her mom to get from one the Pottery Barn catalogues. Her father had put them onto her canopy on her birthday.

She reached out and took one of the small, decorative butterflies off of her canopy. A black butterfly with silver glitter.

[A woman with shoulder-length, black hair, is sitting on the ground, facing a shattered window. Although she is sitting, she is not relaxed. The woman is wrapped in a white, silk robe that reaches her knees, but it is covered in blood. She is frantically scooting back, but finds it difficult from her injuries. The black-haired woman is surrounded by pieces of broken glass – some of it sticking out of her flesh, while some cracks underneath her as she moves].

Jessica groaned as she felt a sharp pain shoot through her head. Her vision was blurred and her blinks became longer, until everything was black. As Jessica fell asleep, her arm dropped over the side of her bed. Her fingers slowly became limp and the butterfly fell to the floor.

However, it was hard to get comfortable. Even though Jessica slept on a queen-sized bed, that donned sheets with a high thread count, she felt cold. With a sleepy groan, Jessica turned onto her right side; expecting better comfort. After becoming slightly agitated, Jessica turned onto her back. Finally, she was comfortable, but, unfortunately, still cold.

Drip.

Jessica felt a drop of liquid grace her right cheek. In response, she followed up with another groan.

Drip.

A bit annoyed, Jessica scrunched up her nose and mumbled, "Stop."

Drip. Drip. Drip.

"Oh, my god," Jessica whined quietly. With her eyes still closed, Jessica brought a hand up to her face to wipe whatever it was off of her face. After she ran two fingers down her cheek, she held them in within eyesight. Jessica fluttered her eyes open, but her fingertips caused her eyes to widened.

Jessica slowly sat up, her eyes still on her fingers.

Blood. There was no mistaking it.

Suddenly, another droplet fell onto her face, the angle causing it to streak over her eye. The abruptness made Jessica's eye blink repeatedly due to reflex, but the noise that followed shortly after froze her.

It was a quiet, throaty gargle, followed by a hiss.

Slowly, Jessica began to look up to the ceiling, her fingers still in front of her face.

Her eyebrows crinkled up, her eyes widened, and her mouth grew agape as she let out a bloodcurdling scream.

There it was.

It hung from all fours on the ceiling. The moonlight reflected in its murky, clouded eyes as it looked down at her. Its long limbs, both arms and legs, were sprawled above her like a spider in its web. It showed its rotten, jagged teeth as it opened its mouth, letting out a high-pitched shriek while blood continued to pour down at her.

Continuing to scream in terror while she kicked back her bedsheets, Jessica frantically went to run.

She couldn't.

Stuck in a laying position, Jessica lifted her head and looked down to her feet. Not only was she not in her bedroom, but she only wore her undergarments. Jessica began to hyperventilate as she stared at her bruised and bloody legs, knowing where she was. Jessica looked to her arm, that rested on dirty, rusted steel and tried to lift it. "No, no!" she cried, "This isn't happening! No!"

Another alarming screeched sounded from above her, but it echoed. Jessica frantically looked up to see a small square of light and a head that peered down on her. "PLEASE!" Jessica begged, "I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE! MIKE! PLEASE!"

"Jessica! I'm coming!"

"MIKE!"

"JESSICA!"

"MIKE, PLEASE HELP ME! PLEASE!"

"No, Jessica, no!"

"NO, MIKE! I'M ALIVE – DON'T LEAVE ME, PLEASE! I'M RIGHT HERE!"

"Jessica!"

"–Please!"

"JESSICA!"

"HELP, PLEASE, HELP ME!"

"HONEY!"

"JESSICA!"

Jessica opened her eyes.

Jessica's mother had her arms wrapped around, holding her closely as she swayed slowly. "Jessica," Mrs. Hall began, "We're right here, honey, you're okay."

Taupe eyes peered over her mother's shoulder to see her father who, despite earlier, stood still with a look of worry. In his hand, he held a rifle – if only that work.

Denise repeated, "You're okay now–"

"–No!" Jessica shouted as she backed away from her mother, only to have her mother grab her by her upper arms, "It's here! It's here! It's here to get me! IT'S IN MY ROOM–"

"Shh," Mrs. Hall soothed.

"–NO, MOM! IT'S HERE! IT'S GOING TO KILL ME–" Jessica persisted, while sobbing.

"–What's here to kill you, baby? Please, tell me!" Mrs. Hall held onto her daughter tightly, despite her daughter trying to frantically pull away.

Jessica stopped struggling and looked at her mom with red, glistening eyes. "...The monster, mom...it took me again–it, it...took me to the elevator again...it was above me, looking at me! There was blood dripping all over me!" Jessica that rubbed her fingers over the fresh blood on her face, "Look!"

Denise looked at Jessica's fingertips and then at her directly, "Baby, no.." she sighed.

"Just look!"

"Jessica, there's nothing there!"

Jessica withdrew her hand and looked to her fingers.

They were bare.

Jessica's expression darkened; her eyes in a daze and her face emotionless. With slight anger, Jessica stared into her mother's eyes. "You don't believe me..." Jessica, then, looked to her father, who avoided her gaze. "Neither of you do," she said as she backed away. As she continued to take steps back, she scoffed in disbelief, "I can't believe you guys."

As Jessica's mother tried to calm her, Mr. Hall walked into Jessica's room. Rifle still in hand, but not raised, he looked around the room. Then, he looked to the ceiling.

The shadow from the tree branches outside were mirrored on Jessica's ceiling, along with a line dark line above her bed. Mr. Hall walked to Jessica's bed and looked down at her sheets, where a patch of moisture sat fresh. When another droplet joined the patch, Mr. Hall looked back up at the ceiling just in time to see another water drop descend.

There was leak.

Mr. Hall's mouth curved downward into a sympathetic frown as he heard, 'You have to believe me!' shouted from the doorway.

– TWO WEEKS LATER –

'Well,' a woman with a black pixie-cut began as she sat on the couch, 'I think you should apologize.'

Jennifer sat far up on her bed, her back against the headboard, while she stuck her hand in a bag of Doritos. Her eyes were glued to the TV screen, which made her next handful of chips almost miss her mouth.

'For what?' a girl with long, black hair asked, 'Kim is be a drama queen, as usual.'

After poking her fingers inside the chip bag, Jennifer noticed that there were only a few chips left; she almost ate the whole bag in one sitting! Jen's eyes shifted from the screen and looked into the bag, only to groan at her appetite and set the chip bag next to her.

...

'C'mon, be the bigger person, Kourtney,' the short-haired woman said.

'–I always am! Maybe Kim should apologize,' the other woman said.

Then, awkward camera shots of the women staring at each other ensued.

Dramatic music also played.

'Well, Kardashians always make up, so,' the older woman said as she stood up, '–whatever.'

...

"Oh, muh goud!" Jen said, her mouth full of chips distorting her speech. As she raised the television remote, she chuckled under her breath, "So stupid." Jen flipped to another channel, where a MC logo took up the screen.

...

'Previously, on Master Chief:'

An angry Gordon Ramsey charged across the kitchen, 'What the *bleep* do you think you're doing?'

Ramsey pointed down at breast of chicken, 'Do you see this? It's *bleep* raw!'

He, then, flips the tray onto the floor, which is followed by suspenseful music...as always.

...

Jennifer's eyes widened, "Holy, shit," she chuckled. After repositioning herself, and watching a contestant glaze a ham, Jennifer eyed her bag of chips. "No," Jennifer said to herself as she closed her eyes.

...

'This, here, is my honey-glazed ham. I seared the tops for the crunch and added brown sugar for sweetness.'

'My side is sliced pineapple: made with Peruvian pepper, teriyaki, garlic, and red-pepper flakes.'

...

Without taking her eyes off of the TV, Jen quickly reached over and grabbed the bag of chips. This was too much!

Suddenly, Jennifer's phone rang.

Jennifer looked down at her phone, which sat next to her left leg, and found herself looking back and forth between the TV and her cell. Peering back down at her phone, she saw the name Chris. Jennifer want to pick up her phone, but noticed her fingers were sprinkled orange from the chips.

"Shit," she mumbled as she looked around. Finding no napkin or towel, Jennifer quickly rubbed her hands on her sweatpants and picked up the phone.

"Hello?" she asked.

'Hey, Jen, did'a get my text?' Chris asked, seemingly cheerful.

"Uh," Jennifer withdrew the phone and looked at the screen: 'new text message' sat as a notification at the top of her phone. Jennifer put the phone back to her ear. "Uh, yeah, I did! I haven't read it yet, why? What's going on?"

'I just thought it was something you should see,' Chris said smugly, 'Call me back after you read it.'

"Oh, okay," Jennifer said as she quietly sucked the leftover, nacho-cheesy-ness, from her fingers, "I'll call you back!"

'See ya!' Chris said.

Click.

Once against, Jennifer repositioned herself against her headboard – which, of course, – meant stuffing all of her lace, accent pillows behind her head. Jennifer opened her text messages and noticed that Chris didn't only send her a text, but he also sent her a link.

[7:32am; Chris] - I thought you should see this.

[7:32am; Chris] - Chris sent you a link.

[7:33am; Chris] - Crazy timing, right?

Jennifer pressed her thumb on the copied HTML and watched as the article slowly loaded.

With every loaded word, Jennifer's eyes narrowed even more. Her eyes scanned the article title:

BLACKWOOD SURVIVOR RETURNS HOME AFTER SIX YEARS, IMMEDIATELY PLACED IN MENTAL INSTITUTE

Jennifer heard high-pitched violins in her head as the image of her loaded. It obviously wasn't a recent picture; judging from her cheerleader getup, the picture was taken in high school. In the picture, she was leaning against the school mascot – it was a post-game picture, but the rest of the cheer team was messily cropped out.

After closing out of the article, Jennifer immediately called Chris back. He must have been waiting for her to call back, for he answered after one ring.

'Hey,' Chris said, 'Crazy, right?'

"–Chris, where did you find that article?" Jennifer asked quickly.

'Someone shared it on Facebook. I seriously can't believe it – do you think this is a sign?' Chris asked, curiosity in his tone.

"I don't know, Chris!" Jennifer said as she began to pace her bedroom, "Maybe! This is crazy!"

'Yeah, dude, this is nuts.' There was a pause. 'What do we do now?'

Jennifer stood quiet for a moment. "Shit, I don't know, uh, does it say which institute she's at?"

'Uh,' Chris harassed, 'Didn't you read it?'

"–Yes, I read it," Jennifer sighed as she clasped a hand over her eyes; she's been working with Chris for two weeks and he was as difficult as she remembered him, "Just, please, can you look over it again? Text me the name of it when you find it, please."

'Roger that!'

"Okay, by–"

Click.

Jennifer blinked as she looked at her phone. Well, at least Chris was invested. After letting a sigh escape, Jennifer tossed her phone onto her bed, only for it ding. Slightly confused, Jennifer walked over to her bed and picked up her phone.

[7:46am; Chris] - Seattle Metal Health Institute

[7:47am; Me] - That was fast. You meant *mental right?

[7:47am; Chris] - No, def metal institute. "lock me up I'm crazaaay!" *pig scream* *guitar solo*

[7:47am; Chris] - did you really doubt me, even for a second?

[7:47am; Me] LOL, no not really. Geez Chris, this is serious! haha

[7:48am; Chris] :D K. Going back to sleep. It's way too early, crazy.

A pair of plump, rosy lips hummed contently.

Along with the melody, a hand scribbled with black Sharpie.

With a grin, Jessica set her pen next to her as she admired her work.

In her hand, Jessica held a tag from a nearby florist. She bit her lip as she read it:

To: Jess

Love: Matt

It made her so, incredibly happy. Ever since she had been admitted to the institute, Matt visited a lot. He'd bring her flowers twice a week, but she never had the drive to keep them alive. Regardless, she appreciated the gesture. After Mike left her in the mines, Matt was there to protect her; to help her escape absolute terror. When the monster came after them, Matt told Jessica to run, while he distracted it. Sure, Mike came for her, but Matt protected her.

When she was rescued and taken to the police station, she asked about Mike, but she also asked about Matt.

They told her that he hadn't been found.

Matt came to her room, hugged her, kissed her, loved her!

Jessica stood up and walked over to her dresser, where a vase of white roses sat. She wrapped the tag around the vase, like it was when she first received them. Jessica ran her thumb over her savior's name, Matt. It didn't matter if he acted out; forgot who he was, she loved him and understood..

Matt smiled as he rested his forehead against Jessica's, "I love you, m'lady."

...

Matt paced in Jessica's room with his hands on his head.

Jessica stood up, "Matt, what's wrong–"

"–I'm not Matt! Jessica, look at me!" Matt exclaimed as he pointed at himself.

"Stop, you're acting strange!" Jessica said as she walked closer to him.

"I'm acting strange?! Matt's dead!" Matt exclaimed.

"Please, calm down. I understand.." Jessica said as she embraced him; smiling as she buried her head into his letterman jacket.

...

Jessica tilted her head as she continued to look at her flowers.

It was okay; she understood!

Jessica slowly removed her thumb and realized she had accidentally smeared Matt's name.

Underneath, another name was written in the same ballpoint pen her name was written in.

To: Jess

Love: Mike

The glass doors to Seattle's Institute opened.

A very nervous, but determined, Jennifer walked in slowly. Now in the lobby, Jennifer looked around. Not knowing what to do or where to go, Jennifer patted her hand on white, stuffed bear she had picked up on the way. Jennifer looked to the small, red tag that read, 'Get Well Soon.' She grimaced a bit, now wondering if that was appropriate. After taking a deep breath, Jennifer approached the front desk.

"Hello," the woman at the desk said, "Are you here to see someone?"

"Yes," Jennifer said as she unintentionally slammed the teddy bear face first into the counter, "Jessica? Jessica Hall?"

The woman looked uneasy as she watched the bear suffocate against the laminate counter, "Uh, yes," she said as she looked up with a fake smile, "Let me get you her room."

"Thank you." Jennifer glanced down at the bear and quickly picked it up off of the counter, noticing her heartless display.

"Jessica Hall," the woman recited as she browsed her computer. "Okay, it looks like she's in room 20B."

"Sweet! Thanks!" Jennifer rushed as she turned around, but the woman quickly had her back at the counter.

"You'll need to stop by the detectors. No weapons, no belts, no shoelaces..."

Jennifer nodded, despite the blast of information.

"They'll brief you there," she finished.

"Alright," Jennifer nodded, "Thank you."

If it weren't for the signs perfectly placed around the institute, Jennifer would have never found her way around. Clutching the bear tightly, Jennifer entered the very short line for the detectors. As the line moved forward, Jennifer listened to the replaying recording: 'If you refuse to part with your phone, belt, hairband, tobacco products, shoelaces, or laces of any kid, you will not be granted entry, for these items are strictly prohibited.'

"Ma'am," said a woman upfront. The woman's stature was short, her skin was fairly dark, and she was a bit hefty. She also wore a perfect face of makeup: fake eyelashes and a berry, pink lipstick. Jennifer tilted her head slightly to read her name tag, which read: Shantel. "Ma'am!"

"–Hm?" Jennifer asked, eyes wide in bewilderment.

"Your coat, please." The woman talked in a monotone voice; obviously peeved in some way. The recording's repetition distracted Jennifer; she hadn't realized that she already started handing the employee her belongings.

"Yeah...wait, my coat?" Jennifer asked.

"Yes, ma'am," the woman sighed, "Your coat has laces near the shoulder. The laces need to be removed or else you'll have to leave your coat here."

"Oh, okay, right," Jennifer said as she wrapped her fingers around the end of the lace. She pulled, thinking the lace would just feed through, but it didn't. She pulled, she pulled, she yanked: nothing. Jennifer chuckled, "One sec."

The lady at the detector chewed her gum loudly as she looked away. With a loud pop of her gum, the woman looked back to Jennifer, "I recommend you leave your coat here."

"–No, I got it, just one sec," Jennifer interjected as she rose a hand during her struggle.

"–Just hand over the coat, we ain't got all day," the woman said sternly, which made Jennifer stop mid-struggle and look to her.

"Uh," Jennifer stammered, "Sure." Jennifer quickly removed her coat and handed it to the employee. Then, she just stood there. What for? She didn't know.

"You can go now," the woman said.

"–Oh, right!" Jennifer spat bashfully as she walked through the detector. She walked down the hall and mentally cursed how absolutely awkward she was! Why? Why was she so nervous? Why!

Jennifer, who donned wide eyes from the confrontation earlier, sighed as she turned the corner, but ended up smacking her face directly into someone's shoulder.

"Oh, shit," the man began, "I'm sorr–"

With her back to the person she collided with, Jennifer let out an exaggerated groan as she bent down to pick up the bear.

"Do you need help–"

"–Nope, I don't need your help! I'm just fine," Jennifer said sarcastically as she turned to face her attacker. Instead of looking to the man, Jennifer blew a strand of hair out of her face as she readjusted the bear's tag.

"Jen?"

Slowly, Jennifer's eyes shifted upward.

"Jennifer Boothe?" The man repeated, but wore a smile; certain he wasn't mistaken.

The man that stood before Jennifer looked like he hadn't aged since high school. Just like he would back then, he wore a plaid button-up along with medium-wash, denim jeans and a belt. His coy smile was present, but even Jennifer knew he wasn't shy or reserved. When Jennifer studied his face, she did realize a slight difference. Before, Mike had a flawless complexion; no blemishes or scars. However, now, Mike had small scar, that was barely noticeable, at the corner of his mouth and a very thin scar that ran diagonal across his cheek. It was from that night, Jennifer knew it.

Jennifer stood quiet, but Mike didn't know she was mentally processing the reunion – if that's what it was.

"Jen," Mike said happily as he approached, "Oh, my god, Jen, no way!" Without invitation, Mike pulled Jennifer in a hug. "This is crazy, I haven't seen you in years!"

As Mike embraced her, Jessica's wide eyes peered over Mike's shoulder. Was this really happening?

With a content sigh, Mike pulled away, but kept his hands firmly on Jennifer's shoulders. "Man, what have you been up to?"

Jennifer smacked her lips and looked away, "Uh, just workin', hangin' out, you know..."

"Yeah," Mike said as he repositioned his footing – both hands in his jean pockets, "Me too."

Mike's look of joy, then, turned to curiosity. His eyes narrowed as he spoke, "Wait, what...what are you doing here? You got a relative here – a friend?" As Jennifer's mind began to turn; all of the gears turning until they started to spark, Mike looked to Jennifer's hands. "Cute bear, by the way," Mike said as he gestured a hand towards it.

Jennifer shared a look of uncertainty, but, thankfully, Mike was too oblivious to pick up on it. Jennifer looked to floor as she bit the inside of her cheek.

!(y/c)! Truth (I heard about Jess; I came to visit...) or Evade (I'm here for a friend. What are you doing here?)

A/N: Man, this turned out way longer than expected and revolved around Jessica way more than expected! Sorry that the part with Mike was short, but that's not all of that conversation. This is just a choice during the conversation that needs to be picked! The conversation will pick back up in the next chapter.

IEatBooksForTea: Right?! I think Chris and Ashley would be great parents, although I believe Ashley would be one of those paranoid moms. Thanks for telling me that the characters are in-character! I freak out sometimes thinking they're not! Yes! Chris and Ashley are married! In, I think it was the third chapter, when Chris is walking downtown, his wedding ring is mentioned. :) As you'll know now, this chapter features a lot of Jessica...a lot! I'm glad you understand Jessica – you'll see that she's a lot more screwed up than we think. Your reviews make my day, btw! I love them!

Leyshla Gisel: *is slowly lowered from the sky dressed as an angel. Hands you a card that says 'you're welcome' written on it. Blows you kisses as I ascend back into the heavens* Finally! Sorry I kept you waiting for so long! Also, that's something you have to think about. Notice that I only describe physical appearance, rather than their names. I want you to hypothesis! Who is it? It could be Jen, it could be Emily, it could be Beth, it could be Hannah, it could be Chris with a wig on. No one knoooows.

J. Devereaux: Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying all of the elements!

Artemis' hunters: Thanks so much! Yeah, the trauma is just the beginning, lol. My writing style can get pretty dark, so get ready! Haha. As you probably saw in this chapter. Yes, they have kiddos! Yay! I'm excited to see where I take this too. So far, this has all been improvised. The characters, literally, do what they want; just pure chaos. As usual, Matt is nowhere to be found. *tsk