Author's Note: psa- I am literal trash. Also the poem in this story does not belong to me it's just a cool poem written by Carol Ann Duffy. Enjoy the very last chapter :)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Spencer got off of the phone and looked over at Hanna. It was the first day they'd been back at their own apartment. It seemed that as soon as they walked into the apartment, the phone was ringing.

"Who was that?" Hanna asked.

"That was the police," Spencer responded. "It was the detective I spoke to last week." The day after Caleb had disclosed that he'd spoken to the police, Spencer and Hanna went to the police station to speak about what they knew. "They figured it all out."

Hanna could hardly believe it. "Really?"

Spencer nodded. "Kyle Johnson, as of an hour ago, is in police custody."

"Kyle?" Now, as Hanna thought about it, it seemed to make more sense. He was a very rich man who could easily have someone killed with the lift of a finger. It made her shiver to think she'd been with him several times. She'd been in bed with a murderer before. Well, he wasn't actually a murderer, but solicitation to commit murder was worse than carrying out the act.

Spencer looked at Hanna with concern. "Are you alright, Han?"

Hanna nodded a bit reluctantly. "I mean . . . I'm going to be. He's locked up now. He can't come back to get me . . . right?" she asked nervously.

Spencer frowned. They'd been living in fear for what felt like forever.

"Spencer?" Hanna asked a bit more firmly. "I need to tell you something," she announced. Spencer nodded, urging Hanna to go on. "I'm going to tell Caleb and Toby about it later but . . . I mean, you're my best friend, so you should know first." Hanna smoothed out her hair and took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm not going to work as a prostitute anymore. I'm not going to sleep with guys for money anymore, and I'm quitting my job at the club."

Spencer's whole face lit up. "Really?" She could hardly believe it. She'd been hoping Hanna would do this eventually, especially after she, herself, quit and after Jasmine's death; there was nothing more tying her to that place. "What are you planning on doing?" Spencer asked.

Hanna barely had to think about it. "I think I want to go back to college and decide there. I mean . . . I think we have enough money saved up for right now and . . . it just feels like the right thing to do," she responded with a shrug.

"That's awesome, Hanna," Spencer responded before giving Hanna a big hug. Hanna smiled—and it was a real smile, the first in what felt like years.

Several months later, things seemed to return to the status quo ante bellum, but they were entirely different at the same time. For one thing, neither of the girls was still working at the club, nor were they sleeping with men for money—they both had legitimate jobs. For another thing, they both had boyfriends—though one didn't care to admit it.

"So what are you doing for your date later?" Spencer asked as she ate breakfast with Hanna in the morning. Now that they were doing two entirely different things, they didn't see each other as often. Although it was admittedly difficult at first, both girls had grown to like their new ritual—every night they'd sit and tell each other all the highlights of their day. Both girls had regained their sense of humor which was lost so long ago. They both looked and felt a lot healthier.

"Spencer," Hanna began as she poured milk in her cocoa puffs, "for the last time, it's not a date—it's a dinner between two friends."

Spencer rolled her eyes as she sat next to Hanna with two cups of coffee in her hands. "Sure, it is. And I'm the Princess of Denmark," Spencer responded sarcastically as she spread jelly on her toast.

"I really don't appreciate your sarcasm," Hanna said as she stabbed her cereal with a spoon.

"Really? That's pretty hypocritical considering—"

"Okay, I appreciate it, but not at eight in the morning, Spence," Hanna interrupted as she took a bite of her sugary breakfast. Spencer shrugged as she took a sip of coffee. "So are you working today until you crash or do you actually have plans tonight?"

"Well, not that it matters to you—since you have a date—but Toby's coming over later and I'm cooking because we're celebrating," Spencer said.

"Of course it matters to me!" Hanna argued. "You're my best friend." She took a few more bites of cereal before initiating conversation again. "Hey, you work all the time. Isn't it about time he cooked for you?"

Spencer took a bite of her toast. "He cooks like all the time! Besides, we're celebrating that today he's taking that stupid architecture test—that one he's had to study for like a year now?"

Hanna nodded. "Okay. Fair enough."

There was a quiet knock at the door before the jingling of keys alerted them that it was someone they knew well.

"Speak of the devil," Hanna said with a small smile when she saw Toby walk in holding a small bag.

Toby raised an eyebrow before placing the back on the counter in front of Spencer.

"What's that?" Hanna inquired.

"Painkillers," Spencer responded as she looked in the bag and took out a bottle of ibuprofen and took two pills. "Thank you," she said to Toby with a small smile.

"Are you going to be ready soon, Hanna?" Toby asked.

Hanna nodded as she took her last spoonful of cocoa puffs. "I'll be ready in like fifteen minutes."

Spencer furrowed her eyebrows. "Ready for what?"

"Driving lessons," Toby responded simply.

"Driving lessons? Why are you giving her driving lessons?" Spencer asked as she took a bite of her toast.

Hanna rose with her dishes and walked over to the sink. "Because he has a car and actually has a life outside of his job, so he's the only one who can help me during the day," Hanna responded before Toby got a chance to answer.

"But you have your license. You already know how to drive," Spencer replied. "You passed your driver's test already."

"Yeah, like a billion years ago," Hanna responded as she took a final sip of Spencer's coffee. "I need a little bit of a refresher course before I go barreling into pedestrians." She shivered. "Jesus. Your coffee gives me the shakes."

"It does not!" Spencer responded. "You're just a wimp," she insisted. "Toby likes my coffee."

Hanna sighed. "That does not count; he's your boyfriend, so he's obligated to say that," Hanna said as she dumped the rest of the coffee in the sink. "I promise I will be back in five minutes, tops!"

Spencer frowned. "You like my coffee, don't you?" she asked as she turned towards Toby.

He nodded . . . but he wasn't very convincing.

"You're a terrible liar." She finished her breakfast and walked over to the sink with her empty and dirty dishes. "We're meeting tonight at seven, right?"

He nodded. "Do you know what you're doing today?"

Spencer sighed a little. "You know I'm not really supposed to talk about cases to people who aren't—"

He begged with his pale blue eyes and she had to give in. "They want my help with this prostitution bust."

His face blanched. "Are you sure you can do that?"

"Toby, I wouldn't have accepted it if I couldn't," she replied.

He trusted her judgment, but that didn't mean he wasn't still concerned about her. "Promise me you'll be careful?" Toby asked with a hint of apprehension in his voice.

Spencer smiled. "I promise . . . boyfriend," she said before kissing him on the lips.

Hanna was studying for some semester exams at a coffee shop near the college campus when she got a text message. It was from Caleb.

He was always sending her weird/funny things and Hanna sometimes wondered whether he actually ever did any work or not. Supposedly he was something of a white-hat hacker for the police and he did some other stuff involving technology, but based off of his text messages to Hanna, he was more like a guy who hunted down funny memes all day.

After she laughed at the latest slew of advice mallard memes he just sent her, she received a link from him, along with a text that said I saw this and it made me think of you.

Curious, she clicked on the link. It was a link to a poem called "Valentine" by Carol Ann Duffy. It read:

Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.

It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.

It promises light

Like the undressing of love.

Here.

It will blind you with tears

Like a lover.

It will make your reflection

A wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.

Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,

Possessive and faithful

As we are,

For as long as we are.

Take it.

Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,

If you like.

Lethal.

Its scent will cling to your fingers,

Cling to your knife.

She was trying to wrap her mind around it. It was sweet in a very strange way and Hanna didn't know if she was flattered or just confused.

Toby decided to get some flowers for Spencer. She wasn't really a flowers and chocolates kind of person, but he noticed that she had a weakness for tiger lilies. He stood in line behind a petite girl who was chatting with the woman behind the counter. When the woman who worked at the store walked away to get the girl's order, Toby got a better glimpse of her. Toby recognized the girl very faintly. After thinking about it for a few moments, he knew where he recognized her. She had been outside of a bar one day when he'd gone searching for Spencer. The girl was talking to her boyfriend and Spencer made a comment about the boyfriend's ex being a "bunny-boiler." He thought to himself that it was a bit funny how a city as big as Philadelphia still somehow managed to be so small.

His thoughts were interrupted by the girl herself. "That creep broke into my house," the woman said as she stared at the photos on the front page of the newspaper, which was sitting on the counter.

"Really?" Toby inquired incredulously.

The woman nodded. "Her best friend was my boyfriend's ex-fiancé. Both of them are crazy. Her best friend is also this guy's sister," she commented as she pointed at the photo of Kyle. "Thank God I didn't do anything to piss him off." The girl looked over at Toby for the first time. She was quite a bit shorter and had to look up. "Poor girls," she commented quietly. "He killed so many girls . . . who knows who could've been next?" The truth startled him and made him feel kind of uncomfortable. She picked up on his discomfort. "Sorry. My boyfriend says I talk to strangers too much," she apologized as the girl behind the counter gave the woman her order of flowers.

Philadelphia truly was a tiny little town.

Hanna still had a few scores to settle. The most important one was with Clara.

She'd known Clara was trouble from the start; she just had the most mischievous, malevolent glimmer in her eyes and in her smile. Spencer had told Hanna that she was ridiculous for being so adamant about her dislike for Clara. It just so happened that Hanna had been right all along.

Hanna waited for Clara in the back of the club. When Clara finally walked in the room, she came alone, and Hanna was glad for that.

"You were the one who was torturing us," Hanna said as she looked at Clara.

Clara hadn't noticed Hanna initially, but when she did, she scowled. "Does it even matter anymore?" she inquired desperately. "He's gone—he's locked up. Isn't that enough for you?"

"I want some answers first," Hanna responded tenaciously. "Why did you do it? What did you have against me and my friend?"

Clara sighed. "I didn't have anything against you! I just . . . I . . ." She reverted back to her native tongue. "Jeg elskede ham." Hanna wished she knew what that meant. "Love makes you do dumb things and I'd never felt like that before—"

"Men can be pigs," Hanna responded dismally.

"I know that now, but I trusted him at the time. I didn't think he would—"

"I know." In that moment, though Hanna was so unbelievably upset with Clara—and rightfully so—she began to feel bad for Clara, too. "I have to go, but don't ever let someone manipulate you like that again," Hanna said. "I guess I can forgive you."

Clara couldn't understand at all. Hanna didn't say another word as she left.

Spencer sat and waited for the John to come to the door. She had only spoken to him over the phone and he sounded exactly the same as all the others. There was a soft knock at the door and she got up quickly to answer. Spencer's heartbeat quickened when she saw who it was. It was a face that still haunted her dreams, though it looked slightly different each time.

"Do I know you?"

She tried to stay as calm as possible. "No, you don't, but you can," she responded as smoothly as possible as she let him in the room.

He flashed a sickening smile. Spencer took a deep breath as she thought of the fact that she had the police on her side now.

"How much?" he asked finally.

"It depends on what you want?"

He went on to list some sex acts—ones that he made her give him so long ago—and she tried the best to conceal her shudder. She thought he wasn't even done listing them by the time the police showed up to arrest him. Spencer smiled sincerely as she watched the officers handcuff him.

"So how exactly does it work? Am I allowed to ask that?" Toby asked as he sat with Spencer for dinner later that night.

Spencer shrugged as she thought about it. "I think I can tell you. So basically, there are two rooms—one of them is where the police generally stay with their surveillance equipment and everything like that, and then the other where the bait is—me, in this case."

"You calling yourself bait is in no way placating," Toby interrupted.

"After someone calls me to arrange a meeting, I get them into the room. After they make it explicitly clear that they want sex for money, the police come in and arrest them. It's kind of ridiculous and I feel like there are better things for the police to do all day—I mean, there's an unnecessary amount of police that just hang around the hotel room. I get maybe three or four people there at the hotel, but everyone else is kind of superfluous," Spencer said. "But I digress." She stayed silent for several moments and Toby could tell something strange happened today. Before he got a chance to ask, Spencer picked up on his suspicion. "Something huge happened today, and I don't know how to talk about it." They both waited for the other to say something. Spencer broke the silence again. "The guy who raped me, he was one of the men we arrested today."

"Spencer—"

"It was strange," Spencer interrupted before he could say anything more. "I was so happy to see him get arrested—and happier still when one of the guys down at the station told me he had contracted syphilis—but at the same time, it made me so upset to know that he didn't even recognize me. It didn't matter that he had raped me—he had no recollection of it. But I still think about it all the time . . . "

"Spencer, have you ever thought about seeing someone about this?" he asked.

Spencer thought for a moment. She shrugged. "I just don't know if it's that great of an idea—"

"Maybe seeing a therapist about this is a good idea. In the meantime, you can always talk to me about it," he assured her. She smiled in response.

Hanna smiled when she looked up to see Caleb walking through the door of the restaurant they had agreed on. This wasn't their first date—more like their sixth or seventh—but Hanna hadn't wanted to put labels on anything and would barely admit that they were dating. To Hanna, this was like a friendship date—despite the fact that everyone else could see otherwise.

"I got your text this afternoon," she said as soon as he sat down.

"I saw it and it made me think of you," Caleb repeated.

"I don't know if I should be flattered or offended that onions made you think of me," Hanna confessed.

"Did you even read the poem?" Caleb asked.

Hanna laughed. "I did, but I didn't think I understood it. Was the author seriously trying to compare an onion to love in a good way?"

He nodded and decided to change the subject; Hanna wasn't about to tell him how sweet she really thought he was for sending it to her. "How was school today?"

Hanna sighed. "Long and boring. My English professor is giving us another essay, even though the last one was due like two days ago," she said as she rolled her eyes. "The only interesting thing was my psychology class. At least that professor is sort of interesting." She reached out to hold his hand. "Let's not talk about that, though," she concluded as she avoided looking directly at him.

"What do you want to talk about, then?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I just want to sit here with you," she replied. "I don't feel like I need to say anything to you."

She could practically feel him smiling. After a few moments of silence, he said, "I love you."

Hanna couldn't help but smile. He'd said it before, but this was the first time Hanna truly believed it. She looked up at him sincerely with a smile on her face. She was betraying every single thing she had ever learned. "I love you, too."

I'm not responding to the reviews on this chapter because all my responses would basically say the same thing. This was the last chapter of the story and I hope this sort of wrapped stuff up nicely. Thank you, thank you, thank you to anyone who reviewed. I really appreciate it. Thank you all for sticking around during my infrequent updates and not nearly enough Haleb :) Really, thank you all so much for reading this. -Kayson