REAPING INNOCENCE ◦ STILINSKI [3]

xxx.

"I don't really know what to say," she whispered. She leaned over to place a purple impatiens blossom she'd picked along the way in front of the marker. Then she curled her legs under her and just sat.

She'd come here often after her death. It was pretty much the only place in town she could be alone. Carter couldn't help but think of what her friends thought of the "new" Carter. They acted as if they didn't really remember of who she was before she died. But Carter did. She felt trapped as she let her mind leaf back through memories, and the lump in her throat swelled, and the tears came easier. She never realized how much she missed the girl who was supposed to die on Dead Man's Bridge—the girl who had a semi-normal life.

Sometimes, right after the funeral, she had come out here for some sort of solitude. That was when she hadn't felt completely comfortable hiding in the shadows, trapped in her own body, and had felt there was nowhere on earth she belonged anymore. Where did she belong now? she wondered. The easy answer was, here, in Beacon Hills, where she'd been born and raised. But lately the easy answer seemed wrong. Lately she felt there must be something else out there for her, some place she would recognize at once and call home.

A shadow fell over her, and she looked up, startled. For an instant, the two figures standing over her were alien, unfamiliar, vaguely menacing. She stared, frozen.

"Carter," said the smaller figure fussily, hands on hips, "sometimes I worry about you, I really do. Why weren't you answering any of our texts, or our calls?"

Carter blinked and then laughed shortly. It was Logan and Malakai. "I must've dropped my phone when I stormed out of Scott's house and God, what does a girl have to do to get a little privacy around here?" she said as they sat down.

"Then, tell us to go away, Car," suggested Malakai, but Carter just shrugged. Malakai had often come out here to find her in the months after her death. Suddenly, she felt glad about that, and grateful to them both. If nowhere else, she belonged with the friends who cared about her. She didn't mind if they knew she'd been crying, and didn't push away when Malakai wiped the tears off her cheeks with his thumb—while discretely wiping the blood from the corner of her lips with his jacket sleeve. The three of them sat together in silence for a little while, watching the wind ruffle the stand of oak trees at the edge of the cemetery.

Malakai placed a hand on her knee. "Why are you bringing flowers to your own grave, Caterina?"

Carter sniffled. "I just, I don't know, thought that I'd feel some sort of relief coming here. For the past six months I've been trying to find the old me inside this..." she gestured to herself "...new me. That girl was ready to die and was supposed to die when her car went off Dead Man's Bridge."

"You're never going to be that girl again, Carter. The only way she'll be at rest is if you let her go and allow yourself to move on."

She sighed, thinking about what Logan had said. Maybe she wouldn't feel so stuck if she let that girl—that Caterina Hale go. "Mal, I know you know what happened." Carter said at last, in a soft voice, wanting to change the subject. "It was really terrible."

"Wait," Logan cut in, holding a hand up. "What happened?"

"Just know that it was really bad."

"And your middle name is 'Tact,'" Logan replied. "It couldn't have been that bad, Carter."

"You weren't there." Carter felt herself go hot all over again at the memory. "It was terrible. But talking about it isn't going to change anything."

Logan snorted a laugh. Carter wiped her nose and shook her head. "So," Logan said to her, determinedly changing the subject, "I found out something interesting about Malakai today."