Know That All My Love Will Be Your Breath

Turner and Charlotte materialized suddenly in the penthouse suite, the sudden shift from a dark, charged atmosphere to a luxurious room proving extremely jarring. Turner's mind was a whirlwind of emotions; grief, anger, confusion, and more that he couldn't place. He looked at Charlotte, her face similarly etched with concern, but could hardly bring himself to speak.

"Turner," Charlotte began, speaking softly. "Are you alright?"

She knew it was a stupid question the moment it left her mouth. Of course he wasn't alright. His girlfriend had just been eliminated from the show, and now was essentially a broken person. What kind of psychopath would feel alright when that happened?

Unable to find the words to describe how he was feeling, he simply shook his head. "No," he finally managed, his voice extremely hoarse. "I'm not. Becca, she..."

"I know," Charlotte melancholily responded, her voice filled with empathy. "It's awful."

They stood in silence for a moment. Turner walked over to the panoramic windows. Just 24 hours ago, his biggest concern was making sure that Lauren was okay. That had felt like an entirely unsolvable problem. Now, it was small potatoes compared to the matter at hand.

"Why?" he simply asked, not expecting an answer. "Why did she do it?"

Charlotte sighed, joining him at the window. "She was hurting, Turner. More than any of us realized. She was losing herself."

"We could've helped her," Turner's voice rose in frustration. "We could've done something. Anything. To just prevent this from happening."

"She didn't believe that," Charlotte's voice was contrastingly gentle as she brought an arm around him to comfort him. "She felt like she was trapped here, and that this was the only way to escape."

He turned to her, his eyes raw with sadness. "But now...now she's..."

"She's still here," Charlotte interrupted firmly to prevent him from spiraling. "She's still tied to you. Kendra made that clear. You haven't lost her."

"But she's not the same," Turner responded, his voice breaking. "She's changed."

"We all have," Charlotte softly clarified. "This game has changed each and every one of us. Even those who don't seem like they have, like Mandy, are still different. The one thing that hasn't changed, though, is that we're not gonna give up on one another."

He looked at her, searching her face for some sort of hope, understanding, anything. "What do we do now?"

"Well, firstly, I think we need some sleep," Charlotte answered. "It's been a really draining night, and it's incredibly late."

"Sleep?" Turner scoffed, though the exhaustion was a heavy weight on his shoulders. "How can I sleep after what happened?"

"Because we need to be strong for her," Charlotte said, her voice firm. "We need to be strong for everyone. We can't let Kendra win, Turner. We can't let her break us."

Turner looked at her, a flicker of resolve igniting in his eyes. He knew she was right. He couldn't afford to fall apart. He had to be there for Becca, for the others.

"You're right," he said, his voice stronger now. "We need to figure out what to do next. We need to find a way to help her."

"Exactly," Charlotte nodded, her eyes filled with determination. "But we can't do that if we're running on empty. A clear head will help us more than anything right now."

They moved away from the window, the city lights twinkling below them, a stark contrast to the darkness that had settled over their hearts. Charlotte led him to the bedroom, the plush furnishings a stark reminder of the luxurious prison they were in.

"We'll talk more in the morning," she said, her voice soft. "For now, try to get some rest."

Turner nodded, his mind still reeling from the events of the night. He lay down on the bed, the soft sheets a small comfort in the midst of his turmoil. He closed his eyes, but sleep was elusive, his thoughts constantly returning to Becca, to her pain, to the emptiness he felt inside.

Charlotte lay beside him, her presence a silent comfort. She knew he wouldn't sleep easily, but she hoped that the quiet presence would help him find some semblance of peace.

---

Emma was the first to break the suffocating silence, dropping to her knees beside Becca. "Can you... can you stand?"

Becca nodded weakly, though the simple movement felt like wading through molasses. As she pushed herself up, supported by Emma and Lana, a strange sensation washed over her – an overwhelming feeling of inadequacy as she looked at her fellow contestants. They seemed to tower over her now, though their physical heights hadn't changed. Each of them radiated a confidence, a worthiness she suddenly felt she'd never possessed.

"I need to..." Becca's voice cracked, her eyes darting to the door. "I can't be here right now."

"You shouldn't be alone," Abby said, wiping tears from her cheeks. "Not after... not after what just happened."

"No," Sara interjected, her voice gentle but firm. "Give her space. We all saw what Kendra did. What she...changed." The last word came out as barely more than a whisper.

Becca felt her cheeks burn with shame. They knew. They all knew what she'd become, how she'd been diminished. The urge to flee intensified, but her legs wouldn't cooperate. She stumbled, catching herself against the wall.

"At least let us help you to your room," Lana offered, reaching for her arm.

"Don't!" Becca jerked away, immediately regretting the harshness in her voice. "I'm sorry, I just... I need to figure out how to exist like this. On my own."

As if to mock her declaration of independence, her gaze was drawn toward the penthouse where Turner and Charlotte were. A new, foreign impulse bloomed in her mind – a compulsion to find someone, anyone, who might catch Turner's eye. The thought brought both revulsion and a twisted sense of anticipation.

"I chose this. But I never imagined..." Becca's voice trailed off as she talked to herself, unable to articulate the profound wrongness she felt, the way her own desires seemed to have been rewired, redirected.

The sound of footsteps in the stairwell made them all tense. Kendra's heels clicked against the floor as she reappeared, that same unsettling smile playing at her lips.

"Still here? Tsk tsk. The show must go on, ladies. And our dear Becca has a new role to play now, don't you?" Her eyes gleamed with malicious delight. "Why don't you tell them what you're thinking about right now? About who might make a good match for Turner?"

Becca's mouth went dry as unwanted thoughts invaded her mind. She could see it so clearly – the possibilities, the potential pairings. Each scenario brought a ghost of pleasure, a pale imitation of what she used to feel, but it was the only pleasure available to her now.

"I won't," she whispered, but her eyes betrayed her, scanning the faces of her former competitors with new, calculating interest.

"Oh, but you will," Kendra purred. "It's who you are now. It's what you chose."

The worst part was, Becca could feel the truth in those words, feel herself changing with each passing moment. The person she had been was slipping away, replaced by something else – someone whose greatest joy would come from watching Turner find happiness with another.

---

Becca had barely made it back to their shared room when Paige slipped in behind her, closing the door with uncharacteristic gentleness. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched between them like a physical thing, heavy with all their past arguments and reconciliations.

"You know," Paige finally said, her voice lacking its usual sharp edge, "when I told you to get your head out of your ass all those years ago, this isn't exactly what I had in mind."

A strangled laugh escaped Becca's throat before she could stop it. She sank onto her bed, the familiar comfort of her blankets now feeling foreign against her changed self. "Guess I really showed you, huh?"

"Don't." Paige's voice cracked. "Don't try to joke about this. Not yet." She crossed the room and sat on the bed, facing Becca. "I know we've had our differences—"

"That's putting it mildly," Becca muttered.

"—but I never wanted this for you. Nobody did." Paige leaned forward, her hands gripping her knees. "When I saw you standing there with Kendra, looking like you were about to jump off a cliff... God, Becca, do you have any idea how fucking scared we all were?"

Becca looked away, unable to meet Paige's intense gaze. "I didn't think anyone would care that much. Especially not you. We've spent this competition, and the past several years, at each other's throats."

"Because you're so damn infuriating!" Paige threw up her hands. "You're stubborn and self-righteous and sometimes so dense I want to scream. But you're also..." She trailed off, struggling with the words. "You're real. You've always been real. Even when I wanted to strangle you, I knew exactly who you were."

"I don't know who I am anymore," Becca whispered, the admission burning her throat. A new thought surfaced, thinking about how perfect Paige would be for Turner, with her fierce loyalty and passionate nature. The compulsion to play matchmaker made her stomach turn, but she couldn't quite suppress it.

Paige must have seen something change in her expression. "What is it? What's happening?"

"I keep... I keep thinking about..." Becca pressed her hands to her temples. "About who would be good for him. Who I should encourage him to..." She couldn't finish the sentence.

"Oh, hell no." Paige stood up abruptly. "Look at me, Becca. Look at me right now."

Becca raised her head, meeting Paige's determined stare.

"Whatever Kendra did to you, whatever she put in your head – you fight it. You hear me? You've been fighting me since day one of this stupid show. You fought with Turner when he was being an idiot. You even fought with yourself. So you damn well better fight this too."

"I don't know if I can," Becca admitted. "It's like... it's like it's part of me now. The thoughts just come, and they feel natural, even though I know they shouldn't."

Paige sat down next to her, close enough that their shoulders touched. "Then we'll fight it together. Even if I have to remind you every single day who you really are."

"The girl who drove you crazy?"

"The girl who never backed down from what she believed in. Even when she probably should have." Paige bumped her shoulder gently. "The girl who threw a drink in my face after that night with Turner last week."

Despite everything, Becca felt her lips twitch. "You deserved that."

"Maybe." Paige was quiet for a moment. "You know what the worst part is? You were right about a lot of things. About the game, about Kendra, about how messed up this whole situation is. And now..."

"Now I'm part of the mess," Becca finished.

"Yeah." Paige reached over and squeezed her hand. "But you're not alone in it. And I swear to God, if you try to set me up with Turner, I will throw two drinks in your face."

The laugh that burst from Becca was genuine this time, even if it ended in something close to a sob. She squeezed Paige's hand back, anchoring herself in the moment, trying to hold onto who she was, who she had been, for just a little longer.

They sat there in companionable silence until the sun began to rise, casting long shadows across their room. Neither of them mentioned how Becca's gaze kept drifting toward the ceiling, toward the penthouse where Turner slept. Neither of them talked about how Becca's transformation had changed more than just her desires, it had changed the very fabric of who she was.

But Paige stayed, her presence a stubborn reminder that some things—like their complicated friendship—remained unchanged, even in a game designed to transform everything it touched.

---

"This is completely illogical," Kathryn muttered, pacing their shared room for what must have been the hundredth time. "There had to have been another solution. We could have—"

"Could have what?" Sara asked softly from her perch on her bed, watching her roommate wear a path in the floor. "Stopped her? Fought Kendra? We tried all of that."

"Not hard enough!" Kathryn's voice cracked as she spun around. "I mean, think about it. If we had just..." She trailed off, her analytical mind already racing through another dozen scenarios, each more impossible than the last.

Sara recognized the spiral starting. She'd seen it before, when Kathryn couldn't solve a problem, couldn't find the right answer. "Come sit," she patted the space next to her. "You're going to drive yourself crazy."

"I'm already crazy," Kathryn said, but she dropped onto the bed anyway, her shoulders slumping as Sara's transformation mildly started affecting her. "You didn't see her face when I saw her going back to her room with Paige. She looked at me like... like she was evaluating me. For him. Her boyfriend." The last words came out bitter and hollow.

"I know." Sara wrapped an arm around her roommate's shoulders. "But that's not Becca anymore. Not really."

"That's exactly my point!" Kathryn jerked away, standing again. "Kendra didn't just change her body or her feelings – she rewired her entire personality. Everything that made Becca... Becca. And we just stood there and watched it happen!"

Sara felt tears prick at her eyes. "Sometimes love means letting people make their own choices, even when—"

"Oh, don't start with the romance philosophy!" Kathryn snapped, then immediately looked contrite. "I'm sorry. That was... that was unfair."

"No, you're right." Sara wiped at her eyes. "I've been trying to see the romantic angle in all of this. The tragic beauty, the star-crossed lovers... but there's nothing beautiful about what happened tonight. It's just cruel."

Kathryn deflated, sitting back down. "You know what the worst part is? I keep thinking about how this could happen to any of us. One wrong move, one elimination..." She shuddered. "What if Kendra decides I'm not 'entertaining' enough because I'm one of the only people who was here willing to give a damn before she went too far? What if you get caught in some sort of VP-draining whirlpool that causes you to go into the red? What twisted thing would she turn you into?"

"Don't," Sara whispered, grabbing Kathryn's hand. "Please don't go down that road."

"Someone has to! We need to be prepared. We need contingencies, backup plans, escape routes—"

"What we need," Sara cut in gently, "is to be there for Becca. And for each other."

Kathryn laughed darkly. "You know, when we first became roommates, I thought you were going to drive me insane with all your talk about feelings and connection and the power of love."

"And now?"

"Now I think I'd go actually insane without it." Kathryn squeezed Sara's hand. "How do you do it? How do you stay... hopeful? Even after seeing something like this?"

Sara was quiet for a long moment, considering. "Because I have to believe there's still good here, somewhere. In the connections we've made, in the way we look out for each other. Even in the way you're driving yourself crazy trying to find a solution."

"That's not hope, that's just my control issues."

"Maybe. Or maybe it's love, just showing itself differently." Sara bumped her shoulder. "Not all love is romantic, you know. Sometimes it's staying up all night trying to figure out how to protect your friends."

Kathryn opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. They sat in silence for a while, both lost in thought, until Kathryn spoke again, her voice barely audible.

"I can't stop thinking about what she said right before... before it happened. About not knowing who she was anymore." She turned to Sara, her eyes haunted. "What if that happens to us? What if we lose ourselves in this game?"

"Then we'll find each other," Sara said firmly. "Just like we're going to help Becca find herself again, piece by piece if we have to."

"You really believe that's possible?"

"I have to." Sara managed a weak smile. "Otherwise my romance philosophy would be completely shot."

Kathryn rolled her eyes, but some of the tension had left her shoulders. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Says the woman who spent the last hour trying to solve mind control with logic."

They both laughed, though it was tinged with exhaustion and worry. Outside their window, the first hints of dawn were starting to color the sky. Another day in the game was beginning, whether they were ready for it or not.

"We should try to sleep," Sara suggested, though she made no move to let go of Kathryn's hand.

"Probably," Kathryn agreed, equally stationary. "But first, I had this thought about possible protective measures we could implement—"

"Tomorrow," Sara said firmly. "We'll figure it out tomorrow."

Kathryn nodded reluctantly, but her mind was already racing with plans and contingencies, lists and strategies, and Sara's constant reassurance didn't help, given the nature of her transformation. Sara could practically see the gears turning. in Kathryn's head, and she knew neither of them would sleep much. But at least they weren't facing this alone. In the end, that would have to be enough.

---

Abby sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at some pictures she'd managed to obtain, courtesy of Kendra. She'd been looking through old photos for the past hour – pictures of her and Becca from before all this started. Birthday parties, family vacations, stupid selfies where they made ridiculous faces. Her sister's smile was so genuine in each one, so uniquely Becca.

"She used to scrunch her nose when she really laughed," Abby said suddenly, breaking the heavy silence in the room, her voice breaking. "Like, properly laughed. Not the polite little chuckle she'd do at parties, but when something really got her going." She looked up at Lana, who had been quietly watching her from the bed. "Do you think she'll still do that?"

Lana shifted uncomfortably, more aware than anyone else in the house of how transformation could change the smallest things about a person. "I... I don't know."

"Right. Because you're different now too, aren't you?" Abby's voice had an edge to it that she immediately regretted. "Sorry. That wasn't fair."

"No, it's okay." Lana tucked her legs under her, still not quite used to how she felt, even after two weeks. "I am different. But not like... not like this."

"Tell me," Abby said, setting the pictures aside. "Tell me how it's different. Please. I need to understand what's happening to my sister."

Lana took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "When Kendra changed me, it was... physical, mostly. And yeah, some emotional stuff too; the way I process things, how I react. But my core personality, who I am inside? That stayed mostly the same. I'm still me, just... in a different package."

"But Becca..."

"What Kendra did to Becca..." Lana shuddered. "It's like she reached in and rewrote her basic programming. Changed her fundamental drives and desires."

Abby let out a sound that might have been a laugh or a sob. "You know what's really messed up? Part of me wants to go full prankster mode. Like, fill Kendra's room with rubber snakes or something equally stupid. As if that would fix anything."

"That's not stupid," Lana said softly. "That's you trying to be you. To hold onto who you are when everything's falling apart."

"Is that what you did? When you were changed?"

Lana nodded. "I tried to hold onto the things that made me feel like myself. Playing video games. Making terrible jokes. Being there for Turner, even if it was in a different way. I mean, you saw what happened on my date night with him last week, we went to the arcade and had a barrel of laughs."

"How is it?" Abby asked suddenly. "Being around Turner now? I mean, you were his best friend, and now you're..."

"Competing for his affection in a twisted reality show while dealing with an entirely new gender identity?" Lana's mouth quirked up in a slight smile. "It's complicated."

"Everything's complicated now." Abby flopped back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. "You know what Becca would say if she were here? The old Becca, I mean. She'd tell me to stop moping and figure out a way to win this thing."

"And what would you say back?"

"I'd tell her to stuff it and then probably put hair dye in her shampoo." Abby's voice cracked. "God, I miss her already. She's right down the hall but she's just... gone."

Lana moved to sit beside her, their shoulders touching. "Maybe not entirely gone. Maybe just... buried under whatever Kendra did to her. Like how I'm still Liam somewhere inside, even if I'm Lana now too."

"You really believe that?"

"I have to." Lana's voice was firm. "Otherwise, what's the point of any of this?"

Abby sat up suddenly, her eyes taking on that familiar competitive glint that had been missing since Becca's transformation. "You know what? You're right. If I can't prank my way out of this, maybe I can win my way out. For both of us."

"Both of us?"

"Yeah. My sister, and Turner's best friend. We're both trying to save someone we love, right?" Abby's jaw set in determination. "So let's do it. Let's win this thing and find a way to fix what Kendra broke."

Lana felt a familiar warmth in her chest – the same feeling she used to get when she and Turner would embark on some ridiculous adventure. "You know it's not that simple, right?"

"Nothing about this is simple," Abby agreed. "But I'm done letting Kendra call all the shots. She might have changed my sister, but she hasn't changed me on such a fundamental level. Not yet."

"And she won't," Lana said firmly, surprised by the protectiveness in her voice. "I won't let her."

Abby turned to look at her roommate, really look at her, seeing past the physical changes to the loyal friend underneath. "You know what, Lana? I think Liam would be proud of who you've become."

Lana felt tears prick at her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And when we figure out how to help Becca, I think she'll be proud of us too." Abby stood up, pacing the room with renewed energy. "So, partner in crime, want to help me come up with a plan that doesn't involve rubber snakes?"

"Only if we can still use the rubber snakes as Plan B."

For the first time since watching her sister collapse, Abby felt a genuine smile cross her face. "Deal."

They stayed up late into the night, planning and strategizing, each finding strength in the other's determination. And if they both noticed how Abby's suggestions got progressively more outlandish as she fought against her exhaustion and grief, neither mentioned it. Sometimes, they both knew, the only way to face darkness was to light your own fire – even if that fire came in the form of ridiculous schemes and rubber snakes.

---

Lauren sat alone in the darkness of her room, the empty bed across from hers a stark reminder of where Charlotte was spending the night. The silence pressed in around her, heavy and familiar, like an old friend she'd never quite learned to trust.

Her fingers traced the familiar patterns of her arm – a habit she'd developed years ago when the world felt too sharp, too real. Tonight, everything felt razor-edged.

"Get it together," she whispered to herself, the words barely disturbing the stillness. But the image of Becca's transformation kept playing behind her eyes, a horror show on repeat. The way she'd crumpled, the way she'd changed, the way something fundamental had been stripped away and replaced.

Lauren knew about replacement. About having pieces of yourself carved away and filled with something else. She'd lived it, survived it, built walls around the hollow parts until they became fortresses. But this was different. This was watching someone else be unmade, right in front of her, and being powerless to stop it.

A laugh bubbled up in her throat, slightly hysterical. She swallowed it back down.

"Focus," she commanded herself, falling back on old coping mechanisms. "List five things you can see."

The moonlight through the window. Charlotte's messily-made bed. The stupid inspirational poster they'd all been given and was hung up in all their rooms like it was mocking them ("Dreams Come True at Harem Hotel!"). Her reflection in the mirror, pale and drawn. The door, firmly locked – she'd checked three times already.

Four things you can feel.

The carpet beneath her feet. The cool air from the vent. The cotton of her shirt. The rapid beating of her heart.

Three things you can hear.

The hum of the air conditioning. The distant sound of waves from the beach. And... something else. Footsteps on the boardwalk?

Lauren went still, her body tensing automatically. The footsteps paused, and for a moment she thought she heard breathing. Then they moved on, fading away into the night.

Kendra, probably, doing her rounds like some twisted guardian angel. Or maybe it was Becca, wandering the halls, trying to find pieces of herself in the shadows.

"Stop it," Lauren hissed, pressing her palms against her forehead until she saw spots. She was spiraling, she knew she was spiraling, but knowing didn't make it any easier to stop.

Because the truth was, she understood exactly why Becca had chosen to leave. Sometimes the pressure of being yourself, of maintaining the person you're supposed to be, became too much. Sometimes you'd do anything to escape it, even if that meant becoming someone – something – else entirely.

Lauren had done it before, after all. Rebuilt herself from the ground up, created a new person from the ashes of the old. But she'd done it on her own terms, fought for every inch of her new identity. What Kendra had done to Becca... that was violation masked as choice, destruction disguised as transformation.

"List three things you can hear," she whispered again, but this time all she could hear was Becca's voice from earlier: "I don't know who I am anymore."

Lauren closed her eyes, trying to block out the memory, but it clung to her like smoke. Because that was the real horror, wasn't it? Not the transformation itself, but the recognition. The understanding that sometimes the person in the mirror becomes a stranger, and all the walls you've built can't protect you from yourself.

She must have dozed off at some point, because when she opened her eyes again, the moon had shifted position. The room felt different in this new light – less threatening, but somehow more surreal. Like a photograph slightly out of focus.

Lauren sat up, running a hand through her tangled hair. She hadn't changed for bed, hadn't even gotten under the covers. But she felt changed somehow, as if witnessing Becca's transformation had shifted something inside her too.

"List one thing you know is true," she whispered to the empty room.

The answer came immediately, unwanted but undeniable: No one in this game was safe. Not from Kendra, not from the audience, and especially not from themselves.

She got up and walked to the window, pressing her forehead against the cool glass. Somewhere nearby, Becca was living her first night as someone new. Somewhere else, Charlotte was with Turner, probably trying to forget what they'd all witnessed. And here she was, alone with her thoughts and her carefully constructed walls.

Tomorrow, she would put on her mask again. It likely would be stoic, controlled Lauren, the one who watched and waited and never let anyone see the cracks. But for now, in the darkness of her room, she allowed herself to feel the full weight of her fear.

Because if Becca—strong, certain Becca—could be unmade so completely, what hope did any of them have?

The night offered no answer, and Lauren didn't expect one. She'd learned long ago that some questions were meant to haunt you, not to be answered. So she stood at the window and watched the moon cross the sky, counting her breaths, listing her truths, and waiting for morning to come and make the world seem solid again.

---

"I don't understand," Mandy said for what felt like the hundredth time, sitting on the edge of her bed as Emma paced their shared room. "Becca just... quit? Just like that?"

"It wasn't 'just like that,'" Emma replied, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke. "You should have seen it, Mandy. It was horrible. Like watching someone just... just..." She struggled to find the words, her usual scattered thoughts even more chaotic than normal.

"Get transformed?" Mandy supplied quietly, her hand unconsciously touching her chest where a locket used to hang – one with a picture of Liam, now Lana, inside. She'd stopped wearing it after their fight, but she couldn't bring herself to throw it away.

Emma stopped pacing, turning to face her older roommate. "No, it was worse than that. When Lana was changed, she was still... her. Inside, I mean. But Becca..." She shuddered. "It's like Kendra reached inside and just... rewired everything."

"And everyone just watched it happen?" There was an edge to Mandy's voice, the same protective instinct that had caused so much trouble with Lana surfacing again.

"We tried to stop it!" Emma's voice cracked. "But Kendra... she just..." Tears welled up in her eyes. "I should have done more. Maybe if I'd gotten there sooner, or if I'd said something different..."

"Hey now," Mandy said, her maternal instincts kicking in despite herself. "Come sit down before you drive yourself insane."

Emma collapsed onto the bed, drawing her knees up to her chest. "I keep thinking about what Turner must be feeling right now. He's up there with Charlotte, but his girlfriend just...and I can't even imagine what Abby's going through, watching her sister..."

"Breathe," Mandy instructed, falling easily into the mom role she'd been trying so hard to suppress since her fallout with Lana. "You're going to make yourself sick."

"How are you so calm about this?" Emma asked, wiping at her eyes. "After everything with Lana..."

Mandy's face tightened slightly. "Maybe because I've already seen what this game can do. What Kendra is capable of." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "When Liam—Lana—was changed, I thought I could protect... her. Control the situation. Make it better somehow. All I did was push her away."

"But you were trying to help!"

"Sometimes helping means stepping back," Mandy said softly. "Something I learned too late."

Emma was quiet for a moment, processing this. "Is that why you've been keeping your distance from everyone? Because you're afraid of making things worse?"

Mandy smiled sadly. "That, and the fact that I'm old enough to be everyone's mother. It's not exactly conducive to forming friendships."

"That's stupid," Emma declared with the blunt honesty of youth. "Age doesn't matter here. Nothing normal matters here. I mean, look at what just happened to Becca! We need all the friends we can get."

"Even old, overprotective ones who mess everything up?"

"Even those." Emma's face suddenly lit up with that familiar, slightly manic energy that often preceded her more impulsive ideas. "You know what? We should go talk to Lana."

Mandy stiffened. "Emma..."

"No, listen! After what happened to Becca, everyone's scared. Including Lana. And maybe... maybe she needs her mom right now, even if she won't admit it."

"It's not that simple."

"Nothing about this is simple!" Emma jumped up, her earlier distress transforming into determination. "But we can't just sit here in our room while everything falls apart. We have to do something!"

"And what exactly do you propose we do?"

"First, we're going to go find your daughter. Then we're going to figure out how to help Becca. And then..." Emma's voice took on a harder edge, "we're going to find a way to stop Kendra from doing this to anyone else."

Mandy looked at her young roommate, really looked at her, and saw past the scattered energy and naive enthusiasm to the steel underneath. "You really believe we can change things?"

"I have to," Emma said simply. "Otherwise, what's the point of any of this?"

Mandy moved slowly, smoothing down her shirt in a nervous gesture. "You know Lana might not want to see me."

"Maybe not," Emma agreed. "But she needs to know you're there if she does."

"We should wait until the morning though," Mandy said. "It's way too late for this, and Lana's probably trying to sleep."

"Are you just trying to get out of this?" Emma questioned.

"No, I'm just trying to be reasonable," Mandy countered.

Emma accepted that as a reasonable answer and joined her roommate back on the bed, before Mandy spoke again.

"Emma?" she said, likely interrupting a particularly elaborate scheme involving group therapy sessions and cookie baking.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For not letting me hide anymore."

Emma's smile was bright enough to chase away some of the night's shadows. "That's what friends are for, right?"

And despite everything – despite the horror of what had happened to Becca, despite her own fears and regrets, despite the weight of all her maternal failures – Mandy found herself smiling back. Because maybe, just maybe, this scattered, fiery young woman was right.

Maybe friendship, in all its messy, complicated forms, was exactly what they needed to survive this game.