Get Out If You Can

Alison | Forget-Me-Not

I knew it.

Everything adds up now – at least, some part of everything. Enrique Torrez was most probably murdered. And I think I know who did it – or not? I'm not that sure. We haven't been given enough hard proof to figure anything out yet, but we've definitely got enough to show that everything is not what it seems.

I can't help but feel a tiny bit sorry for Diego, and a tiny bit mad at myself for pointing it out – though I'm not forgiving the way he thinks. Like nothing is worth considering unless it's approved by him.

The guy threatening Enrique – apparently him, that is – in the recording, the guy full-on boasting about what he did to him – what more proof does anyone need? I know it isn't much to go by, but all the arrows we're shown here point in this direction. He was killed. I know it's hard for Diego, with that perfect, no-crime-in-this-house reputation he and his family have been working forever to build.

"Diego?"

"Yeah." He says it too quickly, too soon.

"You okay?" Stupid question.

"Actually," he says, and I know he's ignoring my question, "there's something you – you all -," he gestures around to all of us, "– have got to know."

"What?" Hunter asks, still eyeing the computer warily. I wonder what else is packed in there – in that CD. So far, nothing's been reassuring.

"Ihavepeeteeesdee."

"What?" Matt asks, something like a grin spreading across his face. "Come again? You want to pee?"

Hunter laughs. I shake my head at him. I know there was a fair bit after 'pee' in that sentence, but evidently, many of us choose not to grow up at times.

"What?" Emilie asks, kindly, and I'm glad for her. All this while I'd thought she was another Kat – mean, snobby, way-too-fancy. But she's better, way better. She's my favorite person here.

"I, um," he starts, and I swear I've never seen – never guessed – that a Torrez could wear that sort of a look. All the nervous parts of his face are going off like war grenades.

"I have PTSD. Mild, but," he struggles with his words, not meeting our eyes, "but yeah."

There's a silence. I don't really know what to say to this.

"Okay," Matt says, and everyone turns to look at him. He winces, slightly, from the attention, but is back to being indifferent almost instantly. "So?"

The smile that paints Diego's lips is of a nature I never thought he could exhibit. He's grateful, and he isn't being shy about it.

"Um, I thought it'd be something of a problem," Diego says, still tensed, but visibly relaxed. "Because, well, my condition is mild, but..."

"But?" I could honestly hug Emilie right now. Hunter and me are simply standing here, playing spectator – while she and Matt and displaying faces I never could've imagined them to sport.

"...I-I've a tendency to, um, forget stuff." He finally meets our eyes, the emerald in them clearer than ever.

And so does his worry.

"You mean you might've..." Hunter starts, fiddling with his feet. I'm glad he started off with it. For the life of me, I couldn't have.

"No! No, no, nothing like – like that," he says, lowering his head once more. "I didn't kill her. As I said," he says, wringing his hands in some funny way, "it's not severe. I don't forget whole moments – at least not entirely. If I did something," he shrugs, "I'd remember."