CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

COGNITIVE DISSONANCE

( — discomfort or tension that arises from holding two or more psychologically incompatible thoughts at the same time. )

— ♡ —

          "FOR HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN GETTING THESE TEXTS?" Rhiannon questions, stumbling out of her seat, while Hailey throws her a purely incredulous look, frozen into place. It must be the exact same look Rhiannon herself flashed Matteo last night, sitting on the staircase, or so she's assuming.

          "For . . . two minutes," Hailey hesitantly replies, having to set her phone on the duvet so it won't fall from her trembling hands. "Rhiannon, what's going on? Had you been getting them for longer?"

          Rhiannon shakes her head, stuffing her phone back into her bag, and rummages through it to try to find her wallet. Her pack of cigarettes is still hiding in her sports bag in Stephanie's apartment and, knowing her sister like she does, she probably has already gone through her stuff to find it and throw it out.

          Her head is throbbing, an obvious consequence of the amount of time she has spent without smoking. It's been over twenty-four hours and Stephanie has been watching her like a hawk, both inside the apartment and outside, as she was the one driving her to the hospital. She's still around, just for precaution.

          Precaution. Rhiannon hates how ironic this whole situation is.

          "Rhiannon," Hailey insists, when Rhiannon swings her bag's strap over her shoulder, "talk to me. What the hell is this? Who is this person?"

          "Did you know Taylor had been getting anonymous texts before she went missing?" Hailey's startle when Rhiannon abruptly turns around, complete with the widening of her eyes, seems genuine enough to make the latter believe her. Frankly, she wants to know there's someone in the middle of this mess she can trust, but, then again, she also wanted to trust Connor back in the day. "I overheard Dimitri talk to Brooklyn about this on New Year's Eve. My own texts started coming a week later."

          Hailey lowers her head, chewing on her bottom lip. "Rhiannon . . . you have to remember Taylor and I . . . we stopped being friends. We weren't friends when she went missing and she made sure to let people know she wanted to have nothing to do with us."

          Inhaling sharply, Rhiannon swings back and forth on her heels. "Who was Taylor friends with? Was it just you? Because Laura said—"

          "It doesn't matter what Laura said," Hailey dryly interrupts. "Regardless of what Laura says, regardless of what happened, Taylor was one of us, ever since her freshman year. I tried to convince Taylor to come back to the group, but it's not like she ever listened to what we had to say when she had already made her mind up about it." She pauses, risking a brief glance up at Rhiannon, who's still standing by the door. "You remind me of her a little bit, you know?"

          Rhiannon's heart sinks down to her stomach. Even though she knows next to nothing about Taylor Morris, the way other people have described her has left Rhiannon slightly apprehensive; it's not that she thinks Taylor was a bad person or anything remotely similar to that, and what happened to her was awful, but she constantly made one mistake after another, regardless of her intentions.

          That's what scares Rhiannon the most. She sees the differences between them, but she sure as hell also sees the similarities; Taylor purposely went out of her way to get involved in matters that certainly didn't concern her and ended up getting her in serious trouble, whereas Rhiannon never meant to eavesdrop on those two serious conversations.

          The constant mistakes are one of said similarities. Both of them also got more than they had bargained for after finding out about things they shouldn't have; Taylor got killed and Rhiannon has found herself covering up for whoever killed Frances just because everyone thinks they need to stay together.

          "I have to go," Rhiannon eventually announces. "Get better soon."

          "I didn't hurt Taylor," Hailey confesses. "I would never do anything like that." Rhiannon, remembering Hailey's explosion from November 30th, the night they found Taylor's body washed up at the beach, simply nods. "And the girls, they . . . I trust Gabriella with my life. Laura and Sutton wouldn't hurt a fly. I don't know what's going on in your head right now, but I trust them and I know they'd never—"

          "I'm not the one who has to be convinced of anything. I just want to know why the hell I'm lying to protect someone whose identity I don't know after they killed a professor."

          Hailey sadly exhales. "I wish I had an answer for you, but I don't, much like I'm not enjoying this any more than you are. I know you're pissed off because you keep getting screwed over, because you think you can't trust barely anyone in that house and because Jude's in the hospital, but we're in the same boat."

          "Hailey . . ."

          "Jude's not the only person who got hurt last night. You're also not the only person who cares about him." She expels a dramatic sigh, falling back on the bed. "I actually like you, so, can you please be a darling and get over yourself, just this once? It's just that this literally isn't about you."

          Rhiannon huffs. "It starts being about me when I have to lie—"

          "Except you are not lying, since you claim to not have seen anything and there's footage proving it, so you're off the hook. Look, I'm not defending whoever killed McCall," she quickly adds, before Rhiannon can mention that hole in her speech, "but not everyone is as lucky as you are."

          "Try not killing someone the next time."

          Hailey doesn't bother answering and dives under the white sheets of her hospital bed, allowing Rhiannon to have the upper hand this time. Rhiannon knows she shouldn't get used to this, even if she doesn't tend to be a confrontational person, but this is still Hailey; even Isla is in constant competition with her, one neither of them will ever be able to win, and Rhiannon definitely should know better.

          Isla's judgment is the one that should be trusted, as she's right around ninety-nine percent of the time, which might be a consequence of her (almost) purely rational reasoning. Rhiannon, on the other hand, tries to be rational by distancing herself from any emotions she might associate to particular situations; once she's no longer emotionally connected to them, she can pretend she's keeping a cool head and thinking clearly.

          It's why she makes mistake after mistake and why Isla can't stand to not be right. She'll go to great lengths just to prove a point, often dismissing everything that goes against scientific evidence or what she has read in textbooks or articles, as evidenced by that argument she and Matteo had in the cafeteria, back when the list of participants was first released.

          Rhiannon hates to admit it, but Isla was right all along. They should have never joined the experiment in the first place, as it was bound to create some sort of rift between all of them; hell, if there had been an entirely different group of participants, Frances wouldn't have died and people wouldn't have gotten hurt.

          This entire situation is bitterly ironic, Rhiannon thinks. Frances, a man who hated liars, doesn't even get to have justice because his research's participants are all busy lying and covering up for each other, since he was awful enough to leave everyone in that house with a motive to push him off the top of the staircase.

          Rhiannon drags herself across the hospital hallways, with the smell of disinfectant making her nose burn, and the corners of her eyes sting. Hailey's words echo against the walls of her brain—I trust Gabriella with my life. Laura and Sutton wouldn't hurt a fly—and she wonders what it feels like to blindly trust so many people like that.

          She certainly knows she wouldn't leave her life on Hailey's hands.

          She doesn't know if she finds Matteo or if it's the other way around, but they run into one another at some point inside the building and she feels a wave of awkwardness washing over them. She can't lie and say she wasn't worried sick about him, especially since the experiment house burst into flames, but he was also the one to tell her they all had to tell the same story to the police—regardless if it was the truth for them or not.

          "Hey," he greets, his septum piercing glowing faintly. "Did you, by any chance . . ."

          "What?"

          Matteo raises his phone next to his shoulder and she gulps when the silver case of the device reflects the lights above them. "The text. Watch who you trust. One misstep and you're out." Rhiannon reluctantly nods, staring at the band-aid on his right cheekbone. "Did you get it too or am I the only one who's being messed with?"

          Rhiannon's shaky fingers brush back her still damp hair, a courtesy of the humid, frigid day. "No. No, you're not the only one. I've been getting those texts for a week now, and Hailey got this one as well. Have you talked to anyone else?"

          "Jude"—Rhiannon winces—"but his phone was in his bag when it vibrated. He got it too, so I'm assuming all of us . . ."

          Rhiannon doesn't have the heart to tell him it should be us and them, not a global us, that includes both the innocent participants and whoever killed Frances (and who set the house on fire, which is a variable no one seems to be considering, as people seem to be more concerned with who killed one person instead of who nearly killed eight others). It's also easy to remember he's not Hailey, he's not busy pointing fingers and arguing with people and he's, undoubtedly, one of the few people Rhiannon is entirely sure she trusts.

          "Is he alright?" she eventually inquires, fixing the lapels of Rowan's jacket, seeing as she couldn't be bothered with asking Isla to return it in her place. "Jude? We shouldn't be stressing him out."

          "Oh, he's pissed, alright"—Matteo's jaw is clenched tight as he speaks—"but I convinced him to turn his phone off just to help him fight against the urge of replying to any of those anonymous texts. Maybe it's best if we . . . if we ignore them. We have no idea what this person is referring to and anything we say might as well be something that can get all of us in serious trouble—"

          "Us?" Matteo looks away, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes, and Rhiannon attempts to resist the urge of stomping her feet like a child throwing a tantrum. "Matteo, do I have to remind you Jude, Zelda and I—"

          "If I knew who did it, trust me, I'd tell you." He lowers his voice to a whisper. "I don't know who we're supposed to trust or not, but I know there are people in that house I trust—that's who I'm protecting. You're not lying. Jude isn't either. Zelda is in the same situation. I'm just asking you to protect me."

          "'Teo," she whines, in a quavering voice. "I can't do this again. I can't go through emotional manipulation and be tricked into screwing myself and other people over for the sake of a greater good, whatever it is."

          Matteo takes a step forward, holding her shoulders, and Rhiannon's muscles instantly stiffen. "Rhea, that's literally not what this is about. You can't possibly think I'm like—"

          "No, I don't think you're like Connor. I think you're asking me to do exactly what I did with him, and that's not something I take lightly." Matteo huffs, exhaling through his nose. "You know I'd do anything for you, but, if you had anything to do with what happened last night, you better tell me right now."

          It lasts only for a fleeting moment, but there's hesitation plastered all over his face, especially when his eyes briefly dart away from hers. You can fake any facial expression you want, but your eyes will always give you away.

          "No," he confesses. "No, I didn't."

          Rhiannon doesn't know what to do with that information. Therefore she simply chooses to walk away, trying to ignore the heavy weight of her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. There are plenty of things she doesn't want to believe, and Matteo having had anything to do with Frances' demise and the house fire absolutely qualifies as one of them.

— ♡ —

          CHANGES BEGIN TO ARRIVE A WEEK LATER.

          It's when Jude is allowed to return to his regular life, even if he still has to avoid going through unnecessary efforts, the participants return to their dorm rooms and they're all assigned psychologists and advised to schedule appointments.

          Just in case.

          Rhiannon wouldn't say they've all suddenly turned into celebrities, but, if she was the talk of the campus before January 14, the events from that night have only made it worse. People love having something to whisper about in the hallways, but, this time, she's not alone, even if it's bittersweet.

          The resident conspiracy theorists think there was some sort of foul play involved in Frances' death and, truth be told, Rhiannon can't blame them, especially since that's what actually happened. Besides, she suspects she'd be thinking the exact same thing if she was standing on the outside, but she's almost as involved as the people who stayed in the house as it exploded into flames.

          That's not necessarily a good thing.

          She knows some people are dying to get an inside scoop, but, along with psychologists, the participants were all advised to find lawyers, just in case. Aaron immediately stepped forward, and Rhiannon never really had the time or the patience to complain, so she simply shrugged it off and let him handle everything.

          Stephanie isn't particularly thrilled that they still haven't made Rhiannon's clearance out of the suspect list official, seeing as there's concrete evidence that confirms her alibi, along with Jude's, but Aaron insists they can't and shouldn't rush things ("after all, they might think we're desperate to hide something"). It doesn't ease her concerns, though, but Rhiannon would like to excuse herself from the narrative, even if she's directly involved.

          She just wishes there was more stability in her life. Instead, she's torn between doing what's morally right by stepping away from the black hole of toxicity that is the group of participants instead of continuing to feed their lie and covering for Matteo, who's supposedly covering for someone else—someone whose identity he doesn't know.

          Supposedly.

          Going back to her dorm room after so much time had passed without her sleeping in that bed felt like coming home, especially with Isla sitting in her side of the room. They don't speak much, even though Isla wishes Rhiannon would open up and talk about her feelings a bit more, but that's exactly what she's supposed to do during her psychology appointments.

          It doesn't mean she's doing it as often as she should be. Rhiannon is obviously not stupid and knows she has to tell the truth, which she does, but she's not telling the full truth. It's not like she can say she suspects virtually everyone who was at the house that night or say that there's a possibility that one of her closest friends might have done it.

          She doesn't want to believe Matteo had anything to do with it and it's certainly not her job to try to figure it out, as she wants to keep her distance from anything associated to those events, but it gets hard to do when there's an anonymous person constantly taunting them about them via text messages.

          It turns out they're all getting those messages, even Roman.

          No one knows what to say when their phones vibrate or ring in unison, as they're aware who sent the text. They're still sarcastic in nature, but so were the ones Taylor was getting at the beginning and everyone saw how that worked out for her. Even if the person who's texting them isn't the same person who purposely went out of their way to threaten Taylor, force her to leave town and kill her, there are some similarities between the two (or, hell, even more) people.

          For starters, they have horrible timing. Secondly, their vigilante complex is getting worrying.

          "Guys," Matteo begins, on a foggy Wednesday afternoon, when they're coincidentally sitting in the common room of one of the dorms—all at the same time. It's not often they're all together. "I've been thinking . . . and there might be something really serious going on."

          "Wow, really?" Hailey sarcastically questions. "I can't imagine what that must feel like."

          Matteo throws her a deadpan look before continuing, "I've been thinking about the purpose of the experiment. Diffusion of responsibility. Bystander effect. They're really similar to one another, but doesn't it feel like it's exactly what we're doing? There's someone who can be blamed for what happened, but only they know who they are." Everyone exchanges a nervous glance. Jude's head lolls back until it softly hits the pillows of the couch. "Maybe there was something we could have done. Maybe we didn't because we thought someone else would."

          Sutton sighs, pressing her lips together. "And your point is?"

          "My point"—he deeply inhales—"is that there are plenty of things associated with those two concepts and the experiment itself that we might be doing. Groupthink—we're making decisions as a group and not as separate individuals. Cohesiveness—we need to stick together if we want things to go as smoothly as possible."

          "Deindividuation," Dimitri continues. "Loss of individuality. I know. I've noticed it too." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It feels like we've all merged together."

          "But we can't be dwelling on what-ifs," Gabriella intervenes. Her voice is still slightly raspy. "I don't care if it comforts you thinking about how things could have been worse, but, personally, I can't stop thinking about what I could have done. Maybe if I had gotten out of bed one minute earlier. Maybe if I had never signed up for this damn thing. It's exhausting."

          "Not to mention we're all conforming to norms that shouldn't even be here," Brooklyn states. "It's so morally wrong, isn't it? The norms we should be following . . . are exactly the ones we're ignoring. It feels like we're . . . playing God, or something. We shouldn't be creating new rules of conduct. We need to come clean and—"

          "Brooke, no offense," Hailey chimes in, "but all we're asking you to do is cooperate. I know it sucks and I hate that I'm doing this, but it's what we have to do and, as long as we stick together, nothing can hurt us. Think of the greater good, or whatever." Matteo mutters 'illusion of invulnerability, self-censorship, direct pressure on deviants' under his breath. "I don't know what's going to happen if one of us decides to turn into a black sheep, or something, but it won't be pretty—especially for them. The police will be all over them."

          "So, basically, the experiment is still going strong," Jude declares, and everyone turns their head to face him. "What if that's what was supposed to happen all along? What if we're still being tested?"

          "Jude," Matteo scolds. "You can't possibly think—"

          Unfortunately, no one ever gets to know what's on Jude's mind, even if Rhiannon knows what it is—and she's pretty certain Matteo does, too. Psychology students have a way of reading too much into things, and Matteo is no exception to that rule.

          They're interrupted by Isla, nonetheless, who barges into the room and stomps her feet as she crosses it to meet up with them.

          "Sorry to interrupt," she says, out of breath. "Actually, I'm not, but I'm just here to deliver a message and you can all go back to pretending I don't exist afterward. Rhea, my father asked me to come get you. It's an emergency."

          Rhiannon tightens the grip around her calf. "What's going on?"

          "Your parents are here. I'm pretty sure they're minutes away from suing this entire place."

— ♡ —

groupthink is a very very very dangerous thing, guys. everything they mentioned during the last part of the chapters are symptoms of groupthink. i'd advise you to read about it, even just for fun, as it's a really interesting concept, but, then again, social psychology is my LIFE

also: remember that painting i did for the love of my life ben barnes' birthday? WELL, HE SAW IT. AND LIKED IT. I'M—

(kyle maclachlan from twin peaks also saw my painting of dale cooper and posted it on his facebook page. it's no big deal.)