Becca Reed lives in a society where they must always wear masks. White masks are the good and black masks are the impure, the criminals, the evil. She is stripped of her white mask and thrown into the world of the Dark Clan, where she is forced to b...
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B⃟ecca feels hot tears wedging in between the inside of her mask and the skin on her cheeks. Twitch's face stares up at her, his eyes shut and his hair askew. What had she done?
"I'm sorry..." She whispers through a sob. "I'm sorry..."
The color of white catches her eye. It sticks out from underneath his collar, caught between the fabric and the skin on his neck. Becca slowly reaches for it with a shaky hand, and hears the light scraping of the ridges on her fingertips as she touches it. It slides out easily, and as she brings it to her face, she catches sight of the black letters staring back at her.
You were alone. Have you found comfort yet?
The piece of paper floats back down to Twitch's still body as Becca lets go of it. What's happening? What's going on?
Becca's mind feels fried as she stands up shakily and presses the button on her earpiece.
"Eduard..." She chokes out, afraid of what will happen next. Another warm tear gets stuck between her face and her mask. "Eduard, I just shot Twitch..."
Dead silence is on the other line. Becca tries to hold in her sobs as she looks down at the boy. Why had he wanted her to kill him? To destroy him? What was he trying to say with his last breath? Who? Betrayed who?
"I'll find you," Eduard finally says, his voice strained. "Library, right? Stay there. I'm coming."
Becca nods as if he can see her and takes one last look at Twitch, whose body lies shockingly still. She waits for a breath, for a movement, just like she had when Victoria... But time, it's her doing. She's the one that pulled the trigger, and Twitch had been on the wrong side of the gun. But if she hadn't have pulled the trigger...
Becca tears herself away from him and glances at the gun on the floor, lying perfectly still, and looking wickedly innocent. It's not the gun that killed him. It's the one that held it in her hands. Such a deadly device, such a powerful item... Such great responsibility. Responsibility that Becca has learned she doesn't posses.
She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and takes a step forward, away from her friend behind her. She reaches down and grabs the thin book off the floor, hoping she can walk out without anyone noticing. Everyone had left when the lights had gone out. She should be alone.
Would be, if it weren't for Twitch lying dead in the back of the library.
She makes her way to the front door, now unguarded by a librarian and walks out. Little does she know about the coldness and hardness growing inside of her, growing inside of her heart. Little does she know about the truth eating away at her sanity.
Becca tries not to think about Twitch. About Victoria. Her fault. They're both dead because of her.
Banshee. She has to find Banshee. He knows what she wants to know. He has knowledge beyond her comprehension, and she wants to understand. He's the only one she can think of that will give her information, should he agree to. Should he decide not to kill her too.
