Mia's POV:

"Ms. Clarke, we realize how hard this must be..." The police officer in front of me tries to bargain, but my mind was nowhere to be found. I couldn't even begin to comprehend this whole situation.

"Can I go home?" I suddenly ask, making the young officer smile sympathetically.

"As soon as your parents get here, yes. But in the meantime can you please try and talk with us to the best of your abilities?"

"I can try."

"Thank you." He smiles. "Do you have anyone that you suspect would do this?"

"No, I don't have a clue." I say, softly.

"How do you feel?"

My eyes don't leave my hands, "Numb."

Suddenly a knock erupts on the door, and in comes a female officer. "Sorry to cut your time short, Officer Christiansen. But Mr. and Mrs. Clarke are now here to pick up Mia."

"Okay, we'll be right out." He nods to her, and she backs out. "Remember to please contact us without hesitation if you have a reason to believe someone
in particular did this."

I stand up and shake his hand, "Will do."

As soon as I step out of the office, my mom runs up to me and throws her arms around me. "Oh Mia! How're you doing?"

I don't reply, I only shrug. The feeling of Delila's blood on my face still feels like it's on my face, even though I washed it off ages ago.

We exit the school building and get into my dad's car, pulling out of the parking lot. My parents talk in hushed whispers, but I know what they're talking about. It was going to be all they talked about for awhile.

Right as we get home, I jump out of the car and head inside. I couldn't wait to just be in my room, sleeping on my bed. Maybe it would get my mind off it all for a few hours.

I run up the stairs, ignoring my moms pleas to come back downstairs. As soon as I step foot in my room, I slam the door shut, locking it. I kick my shoes off and quickly change into an oversized sweater that goes to my mid-thigh before jumping into bed. I lay there for several minutes, thinking over everything.

What must've it felt like being in Delila's position? Just knowing you were going to die and having nothing else on your mind but that? What did it feel like when the person who killed her burst into the room, and she knew it was her time to go? How long was she alive before she finally died? Did she suffer? Did she feel fear course through her veins as she was being murdered? When the thought finally hit her that she wasn't going to live, did she wonder if the person who killed her would pay for it?

Tears fall down my cheeks and I don't stop them. My vision blurs and I finally let out the loud sobs begging me to let them be heard.

The next day, my parents don't make me go to school. I don't think I'd be able to handle it anyway. Just imagining all the people asking me questions about what I saw and what I felt made me anxious.

I log onto my Facebook only to see a message from Zayn pop up.

From: Zayn Malik

I heard about what happened at school yesterday...how are you?

From: Mia Clarke

I'm fine.

I close my eyes as I feel the tears welling up in my eyes, but I don't let them spill.

From: Zayn Malik

I know you aren't. You know I'm always here for you, right? I'll always be here to listen to anything that's bothering you.

A small smile appears on my lips, but I stop soon after. I couldn't help but feel selfish. Here I was talking to a boy I liked a lot, smiling without a care in
the world. But Delila would never get that chance again. She wouldn't be able to flirt or find true love ever again, because somebody took that right away from her.

From: Mia Clarke

Yes, I know. I really appreciate it also. I just don't feel like talking about it right now.

From: Zayn Malik

I understand. Just know I'm here, okay? Did you go to school today?

From: Mia Clarke

No, my parents didn't make me. You'll be back tomorrow, right?

I couldn't help but feel relieved at the thought of him being back tomorrow. I needed somebody to be able to be there with me, whispering me soothing words and telling me it was all going to be okay.

From: Zayn Malik

Yes, I will be. Are you going to?

From: Mia Clarke

Yes.

From: Zayn Malik

Are you sure you should?

I wasn't sure I should go. But I felt I needed to. I needed to see Zayn and have him wrap his comforting arms around my waist, protecting me from
everything that could harm us. I needed his lips, also. I needed everything to seem okay again, even if it was just for a split second.

From: Mia Clarke

Positive.

Thursday rolls around quickly, and I walk down the stairs only to see my mom standing at the bottom. "Mia, where do you think you're going?"

"School." I reply, picking my backpack up.

"Like hell you are."

"Mom, please. I will be all right, okay? Zayn will be there and he'll keep me company. If I don't get out of here, I'll go crazy."

Her eyes widen in consideration, and she sighs. "Okay, fine. Just message me if you go anywhere else."

I nod, smiling slightly. "I will, mom. And thank you. This means a lot to me."

The principal tells us all over the intercom to head straight to second period instead of first. Which was fine with me, I couldn't stand being in that classroom anytime soon.

I head to science class, and enter only to have many eyes follow my every move as I head to my seat. My teacher begins class, and he sighs. "We are going to talk about Ms. Delila Young before we go any further..."

My whole body tenses up, and my eyes snap up to look him in the eyes. A boy raises his hand, and he licks his lips. "Should we really be talking about this right now, sir? With all respect, I just don't think this is a good idea at the moment."

A rush of gratitude runs through me as I know he's doing this in my favor. "Mr. Matthews, we do not need your input today."

His face falls and I smile at him thankfully when we make eye contact. I look away from him as my teacher goes on with his talk.

"We all knew who Delila Young was, and it must be very shocking to have such a gruesome act happen." He sighs, taking a deep breath. "And it's okay
to feel sad about all of this, no matter who you are or how well you knew her. This kind of incident affects all of us in its own way. If any of you need to talk, the school counselor is available for anybody."

After his talk, the intercom in his class goes off. "Mr. Hadley?"

"Yes?" He asks, rolling his eyes.

"Is Mia Clarke in your classroom?" The lady asks.

Mr. Hadley's eyes wander a bit until he sees me. "Yes, she is."

"Will you please send her to the principal's office?"

"She'll be there soon."

Dozens of thoughts run through my mind as I knock on the door. The door opens, and the police officer urges me in. I walk in, and am genuinely surprised when I see Zayn sitting down with a solemn look on his face.

I sit down next to Zayn, and the police officer sits down a cross from us. "Glad you could join us."

"My pleasure." I smile slightly, trying my best to get Zayn's attention, but he doesn't do anything but glare at the cop in front of us. "Why am I here?"

"Ah, yes. You see, we have to confirm an alibi from Mr. Malik." He smirks, clicking his pen.

"Okay. What is it?"

"Mr. Malik says you were with him the day Delila Young went missing, is that true?"

My mind goes many places, and Zayn stares at me from the corner of his eye. "Yes."

Truth is, I wasn't with Zayn. So why did he use me as an alibi? And why did I lie for him?

Officer Brown's face falls, and he looks disappointed. "Thank you, Ms. Clarke. You and Zayn can both return to your classes."

We both stand up and exit the office, and continue to walk down the halls together. "Why did you use me as an alibi?"

He looks over at me, and smirks. "Why did you lie for me?"

"I honestly don't know." I reply, not meeting his eye.

"Well, thank you."

"Now you tell me why you lied. Did you..."

"No, I didn't kill her." Zayn replies, scoffing. "I was just meeting up with somebody. If I told him, it would've launched a whole investigation over something that was stupid."

"What was it?" I ask, rubbing my bottom lip.

"He was giving me a book is all."

"Oh."

"I didn't want to bring him in to it. He's a troubled boy, and I don't want him to loose trust in me." He shrugs, turning a corner.

I follow him, "You help him?"

"He talks to me about things that bother him is all."

After school gets out, I try my best to avoid Zayn. It's not that I didn't trust him, I really do. It's just that I don't really want to talk to anybody right now.

I put my earphones before sending my mom a quick text letting her know that I was heading into town for awhile. Soon after, I put on the news and listen closely.

"Is there anything you can tell us about this case?" A woman reporter asks.

"Delila's death seems to be related to the other serveral deaths in Wakesfield." The officer takes a deep breath. "We aren't positively sure, but we are talking with their officers and trying our best to find a connection."

Wakesfield is only about twenty miles from Longdale, that isn't too far. Could it be possible that the killer is going from town to town?

Overwhelmed, I rip my earphones out and look straight ahead as I walk through the town. Many eyes follow my strides, but I try not to pay attention to them.

Suddenly, my heart stops. Right in front of me stands Harry staring straight at me. We both stand still, not moving an inch. His eyes are cold and his face emotionless as he clenches his jaw. It takes everything in me not to run up to him and hug him.

He tears his eyes away from me when his mom comes out of the shop, carrying a bag full of food. "Come on, we need to get you back to the hospital."

As soon as he's gone, I turn away and head back to my house. I couldn't believe that I just saw him. Why was he out of the hospital? Maybe they allowed him to leave for awhile.

I enter my house, and my parents both stand up from the couch abruptly. "How're you feeling, honey?"

My face turns sour, "I'm fine."

"Sit down, Mia." My dad tells me.

"What? No. Tell me what's going on." I order, my heart beating faster.

"Mia, baby. Your dad and I talked and we think that maybe you should go see a therapist." My mom gives me a sympathetic smile.

"No, I don't need one." I tell them, anger rising in me slightly.

"Just consider..."

"No!" I raise my voice, making my mom jump. "I don't need one."

"Mia," My dad says sternly. "You experienced something very traumatic, we are thinking about what's best for you."

Shaking my head, I laugh unamused and spin around, walking out the front door. Many thoughts run through my mind, and I don't even notice Zayn standing in front of me. "Mia, are you alright?"

"Far from it."

"Is this about that Danny kid? I really think he'll be okay..." He murmurs, running a hand through his hair.

"What about Danny?" I ask, my eyes widening. Does he mean Danny as in Harry's friend?

"Did you not..."

"What about him?" I ask more sternly, making Zayn flinch slightly.

"He...went missing today." He tells me, rubbing his hands.

"Oh."

Another one, gone.

"Why were you so upset before?"

"My parents suggested a therapist." I scoff, trying my best to get my mind off Danny.

"Therapists suck." Zayn tells me, licking his lips.

"How do you know?"

"My mom made me see one when I was twelve. All they do is pretend to care and then throw a diagnosis at you with a prescription."

"I see..." I mumble, surprised.

"Yeah, but whatever." He shrugs, kicking at the rocks in my driveway.

I don't know what to say, so I say nothing. We stand in silence for a few minutes until Zayn straightens his posture. "It was nice talking to you, but I have some business to attend to."

My eyes snap up, and I nod. "What kind of business?"

He doesn't reply, all he does is look at me over his shoulder and smirk.

A few hours after Zayn leaves, my phone starts ringing. I answer it, "Hello?"

"Mia Clarke?"

"Yes?"

"Your friend, Harry Styles, is in critical condition at the moment." She tells me, sighing.

My eyes widen, "What happened?"

"His oxygen levels went dangerously low..."

"I'll be there as fast as I can." I tell her, hanging up.

I run into the hospital, and don't bother to stop at the front desk. I get up to Harry's room as fast as I can, and to my luck, the last doctor leaves his room.

"Harry?" I whisper, entering his room.

He looks up at me, "Mia."

"What the hell happened?"

"I can't tell you." Harry mumbles, tears falling down his cheeks.

I wipe them away, grabbing his hand. "Why not, Harry?"

"If I do, he'll kill me..."

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