i'll follow you into the dark .

[Deleted]

"You have plans tonight?" Neal asked. Tiffany raised her brow. "At least buy me dinner first," she teased, earning a firm shake of Neal's head. "You have the strangest mind," he insisted. Tiffany giggled. "Well, considering I'm just your go-to gal, I think it's safe to assume you don't have plans." Neal gave her a look. "I asked first." By that, Tiffany knew that he hadn't made any plans for the night. Neal was too proud to admit no one wanted to spend time with him, though. Tiffany knew her brother almost better than she knew herself. "No, Neal, I do not have any plans." His face fell, suddenly serious. "Wrong answer." Tiffany raised a brow. What? "You and me are going to the Daniels party." The Daniels party? That was probably the most rowdy, talked-about event of the entire high school year. The Daniels brothers used to rule the school. Neal wasn't very fond of Alex, the brother his age. They had some weird rivalry or something. Tiffany tried her best to avoid beef that Neal had with people. Doing so made her life tolerable. "You hate the Daniels," she pointed out. He nodded. "True, but their cousin is in town. She's hot." I facepalmed, nearly gagged. "You're pathetic," she sighed. Neal shot her yet another signature grin. "Be ready in ten!" he called, jumping the couch to get his car keys. 

Tiffany withdrew a sigh and stood on her feet. Ten minutes? There was no way! She tore through he closet like a hurricane. She'd never been to a Daniels party before. Usually only juniors and seniors were permitted. Neal went last year and ended up coming home totally smashed. Luckily, Tiffany had been up watching a movie. She saved him from a stern lecture from their parents. That was only one of the many times Tiffany preserved his skin. He had yet to totally make up for all the times she had to lie for him, but Tiff didn't mind. She loved Neal, and she figured taking her to the Daniels party was his way of beginning to even the score. She emerged from her bedroom in distressed skinnies and a white tank that exposed her midriff. Neal nearly had a cow when she came down. "If I'm going to the biggest party of the year, I want to look good," she told him, leaving him in the dust. He was sour as he hopped into the car. He was sporting a bro-tank and shorts. "It's not like you look any better!" she whined. "I'll behave, I promise." She had more self-control than Neal gave her credit for. Her brother glanced in her direction once and returned his gaze to the road. "It's not you I'm worried about," he muttered irritably. High school boys only wanted one thing. Tiffany knew how that spiel went. Secretly, she felt victorious. Neal always had girls hanging off his arms. Now it was her turn to play the field of men. 

When they arrived, the party was already in full swing. Neal found a group of his friends crowded on the couch. Tiffany instantly searched the crowd for one person: Hayden. She was shocked to find he wasn't there. Her hopes fell, an outfit wasted. Neal patted her on the back, introducing each of his friends to his "little" sister. Tiffany smiled flirtatiously. "If any of you so much as look at her, I will kick your ass," he warned. Tiffany frowned. So much for that. "Alright, momma bear," the one named Dylan teased. Tiffany liked Dylan already. Unlike the rest of Neal's friends, he didn't seem to take Neal so seriously. "How about we skip the heavy and party?" Tiffany glanced at Neal then, awaiting his verdict. "Hell yeah!" he exclaimed, taking a look around. Tiffany didn't know what her purpose for sticking around was. Neal set a death mark on whoever so much as looked at her. All of the men at the party were at least two years older than her. The Daniels party was looking grim for the naive sophomore. She sat on the couch, keeping her eye out for her brother. He was dancing with a couple of girls from his grade. Rebecca and Stacey, she thought. Tiffany hadn't expected Dylan to come and sit next to her. She gave him a quizzical look. "Hey," he greeted. "You look like you're having the time of your life. Beer?" Tiffany eyed the golden liquid. "No, thanks." 

Dylan chuckled. "Are you sure you're Neal's sister?" he inquired. Tiffany's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" she challenged. Another chuckle. "Let's be real here, right? Your brother is a beast. I kind of figured you'd be just as much fun." Smirk. Shrug. "I'm fun," she insisted. "I don't think so," he replied casually, drawing out the "o". Tiffany snapped. "Dylan, right?" she asked. He nodded. "Want to dance?" Her face was expectant. "With you?" Tiff nodded. "Unless you're scared," she teased, smiling flirtatiously. "That's more like it!" he exclaimed, leading her into the mass of bodies. They danced close, laughing and joking until Dylan was suddenly shoved to the side. "What the fuck, Neal!" Tiffany heard Dylan question. Tiffany looked at her brother. His gaze met hers, too. "We're leaving," he huffed. "This was a bad idea." Eyes from all around had turned to them. Neal's breath stank of beer. "Let me drive," Tiffany insisted as they reached his car. Neal was hesitant to hand over his keys. "I'm not letting you drive me home drunk. Give me the keys." 

[/justify]

[Deleted]

Tiffany's head was still in a whirl from the previous days' events. Although she managed to stifle her tears for now, she was far from okay. Her heart ached with the loss of her best friend and brother. There really weren't two siblings closer than Neal and Tiffany Prescott. There were secrets that the two hid from each other, sure. All siblings kept a few secrets under lock and key. Tiff didn't know every little thing about Neal, that's for sure. She'd never know anything. Neal was dead, and she was technically very much alive. Her heart beat. Blood circulated through her veins. Without make-up for the time being, she didn't look the part. Her appearance gave off the same aura a zombie might, undead but not entirely living, either. No one in the Prescott looked particularly lively for what seemed like years.

Currently, Tiffany was sitting on the couch staring at a blank television screen. Everything about the media found a way to remind her of her deceased kin. She couldn't handle the local news covering her brother's story any longer. Some suspected suicide. Others had firm beliefs in murder. There was only one other person who knew just as much as she did. Hayden Scott. Right now, he'd be the only person who'd be able to console her to an extent. To be fair, however, there wasn't much anyone could say or do to make the situation seem peppy and free. Losing her brother so traumatically wasn't remedied by a corny joke. No, she needed time and lots of it. Months, maybe. Years? How does someone forgive themselves for murdering their kin? How could Tiffany Elaine Prescott continue hiding the truth?

"So you weren't there?" the police officer asked. His eyes bore into her cheek. She wished he'd stop staring.

"No, I wasn't there," she replied. The lie came easier from her lips now. After the umpteenth time being asked the same question, a lie was easier believed by the police as well as herself. Knives pierced her heart as she declined her presence once more. Tiffany wanted justice for her brother, but she was afraid of the consequences. Chantilly was her hometown. The Prescott family was well-known around town. If Tiffany revealed the truth, she'd be putting herself, Hayden, his family, and more importantly, her own family on thin ice. She'd done something terribly wrong three days ago. Tiff wasn't about to let her repercussions impact her family's reputation as well. Neal wouldn't have wanted that, she reassured herself.

"We found some prints on the bottle found at the crime scene. Your prints," he continued.

Tiffany's heart raced. No one had fired this information at her before. "What bottle?" Tiffany asked, playing dumb. The officer pulled out a couple pictures. He slid them across the table. The bottle he was speaking of had been touched last by Neal. They'd been taking rounds. In her rush to flee the scene, Tiffany left the bottle in a crevice on the roof. "That was from my parent's liquor cabinet," she confirmed. "I've poured a few glasses for my dad..." And herself. Neal, too, when they were feeling frisky. "The prints are probably old." She stared right at the officer as she spoke a story unrehearsed. Her voice was surprisingly steady despite the uncanny racing of her heart.

"You were with Neal yesterday, correct?" Tiff nodded. "Me and my brother were hanging out yesterday." They'd gone to breakfast at a diner they loved. Afterwards, they spent the day with a few friends, Hayden included. Once the evening set upon them, Neal, Tiffany, and Hayden escaped to the confines of an abandoned roof to fool around. Tiffany brought the liquor. Neal would have if she hadn't. All three of them had a bit of an alcohol problem, especially Neal. The officer inhaled a sharp breath as his interrogation wore on. He asked the basic questions all the other cops had. She guessed they were trying to see if she could keep her story straight. So far, she had, and she didn't plan on slipping up anytime soon. Jail wasn't a healthy place for a sixteen year old girl.

"That's all for now," the officer finally declared. Tiffany withheld the relieved sigh that threatened to escape her. She'd made it through another skeptical interview. She'd be unwise to blow her cover now. The officer stood and made his way into the foyer. That's where Mr. and Mrs. Prescott were waiting. Their faces were tainted with anger and grief. How an officer could accuse their little girl of doing something like this to Neal of all people upset them. Tiffany was a good kid, they insisted. She had a good head set on her shoulders, they said. She'd never toy with alcohol. Once again, Tiffany heard one of the officers murmur, "I'm sorry for your loss," before the tears finally broke the surface. Now that the authorities were gone, her strong front had tumbled into the abyss.

[Deleted]

Neal Kenneth Prescott was eighteen when he saw his life flash before his eyes. He'd be twenty-four today, probably making his mark on the world one smile, laugh, or corny joke at a time. Instead, he was buried under a ton's worth of dirt, decomposing in a hand-crafted box made just for him. Twenty-four years ago on February twenty-fifth, Mr. and Mrs. Prescott were the happiest people in the world, fore their first child had been born. Little did they know his life would be stolen from him eighteen years later at the hands of intoxication. There wasn't anyone who was more moved by the outgoing teenager than his baby sister, Tiffany. She watched Neal religiously. To her, there was no better role-model.

On his birthday, Tiffany always made an effort to return home in order to visit him. She could be halfway across the world come February twenty-fifth, and she'd somehow find a way to come to him. She figured she owed him that considering she was behind his demise. Every year, she trekked between the graves to beg for his forgiveness. She hadn't sipped an alcoholic beverage since that Summer night for six years ago. Her actions were thought out before being implemented, and she promised herself a future for both of them. Acting was always Neal's gig. Tiff couldn't compare. Instead, she dove headfirst into her writing. Princeton had a superb English program. Tiffany made sure to take advantage of her education, striving to make her deceased brother smile down on her from the heavens.

Tiffany knelt at his headstone when she finally approached. There were already flowers from other visitors. Neal hadn't been Tiffany's role model alone. Many people looked up to him because there was really nothing wrong with him. He'd been on the football team, a team sport at heart. Neal liked to challenge himself with higher-level classes, too. "Might as well get the hard stuff out of the way now, right?" he used to say. The boy had potential to go far in life. There really wasn't anything he couldn't execute if he put his mind to it. He'd taught himself how to play the guitar, and singing, dancing, and acting came as the summer follows spring. Tiffany made many of her friends by association. Never did the fact bother her. Many of Neal's female friends were first Tiff's friends to begin with. They helped each other out.

"Happy birthday, Neal," Tiff whispered. A tear fell from her eyes and traveled over the bridge of her nose. She placed a bouquet of flowers near the rest of them. The ground was damp, but that didn't stop her from sitting flat on her bum to talk to him. She talked to him as she had when he was alive and well. The only piece missing was his responses, and there wasn't anything Tiff wouldn't give to hear his laugh once more. "The spring semester started last month. I have this teacher that reminds me of Ms. York. Remember, your chemistry teacher? You hated her..." A small, sad smile broke Tiffany's lips as she recalled the names Neal made up for her. None of them were very appropriate, to say the least. "I'm learning a lot from her, though."

"I wish you were still around..." Tiffany continued after a long moment of silence. The breeze tickled her face then. She knew he was with her. At least for the moment. "After all this time, I thought I'd be able to accept that you're gone, but I can't." She wiped away an ambush of tears from her cheeks. "Every day, I walk on campus wishing that you'd be walking beside me, guiding me like you used to." Her shoulders sagged, and the sobs continued to shake her petite figure. "If you were here right now, we'd probably go down to the diner and grab you a celebratory milk shake like we used to. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Silence. "I remember the last time we ate there together. You'd just finished reiterating just how our lives would be. According to you, you'd be an a-list actor by now. We'd be running from the paparazzi and hiding out in your beachside mansion..."

Thinking about his plans left a bittersweet taste in Tiffany's mouth. On one hand, she was glad six years hadn't tarnished her memory of him. On the other, she felt remorse because she knew that he'd never fulfill his elaborate plans. Coming to his grave every year comforted her somehow. Tears always fell, but she always felt closest to him there. She'd read the message encrypted on his gravestone a thousand times, if not more. When she finally ran out of words to say, Tiffany simply sat adjacent to his grave and cried silently. She was probably there for an hour before she finally stirred once again. She grabbed the pile of growth she'd been collecting and stood up. Her hand traced the smooth surface of the headstone momentarily. "I love you, Neal," she murmured, heading in the direction of her parked car.

[Deleted]

January 2005, three years after Neal's passing. Tiffany frowned. Time seemed to be dominated by that one night and everything it stood for. Personally, there wasn't an hour of any given day that her brother passed through her mind. Even during her slumber, Neal was there. He wanted her subconscious just as much, actually. The nightmares had been kinder to her these days. Rather than visiting her every night, she might wake up screaming biweekly. She'd prefer to rid herself of the nightmares once and for all, but beggars really couldn't be choosers. Her guilt was immense as the days passed in a passive blur. Tiffany lost time to pondering her brother's fate. Some of the townsfolk suspected Tiffany died with Neal that night. Honestly, she wouldn't be surprised if the rumors were true. Tiff sure did miss feeling effortlessly happy. She hadn't felt that way in a long, long time. Could she ever be truly happy after murdering her brother?

"Tiff?" her mother repeated. Concern was written all over Mrs. Prescott's face. "Tiff, you're doing it again." A hand. A touch. A sensation. Tiffany glanced at her mother, breaking her intense gaze out the window. "You should really get rid of that tire swing," Tiffany said. The swing, sometimes utilized by the neighborhood children, had been hung at Neal's request. He and Tiffany used to pretend the swing was an alien spacecraft. Sure, the game was a little masculine for Tiffany's tastes, but she wasn't able to know better way back when. Spending time with Neal had been golden, no matter what he coaxed her into playing. Mrs. Prescott's frown deepened. She'd grown so old over the span of three years regardless of her youth. She'd given birth to Neal at the age of twenty-three, Tiffany at twenty-five. These days, she was nearing her fiftieth birthday. As far as Tiffany was concerned, she was healthy.

"When are you going to put the past where it belongs, sweetheart?" she asked earnestly. Tiffany felt her motherly hand rest on hers. They were currently sitting at the kitchen table. If Tiffany had her way, the table would be long gone, too. Neal left his imprint everywhere in the house. Tiffany couldn't stomach venturing into his old bedroom, left exactly the way he'd left that morning... "How could you forget about your oldest son like that?" Tiffany retorted, voice raised. Mrs. Prescott expected her to react this way. Each time Tiffany came to visit from college, she was always met with the same shadows that accompanied her. No one could drill inside her head, not even her father. "Honey, I know how much you miss your brother, but he'd hate to see you this way." This way. Her words were generous.

"Mom, I could be a lot worse," Tiffany pointed out. At twenty, there were so many wrongs she could commit. Fake I.D.'s were gaining popularity, and she was well-aware of her appeal. Instead of drinking away her problems and allowing random men violate her, Tiffany sat secluded in herself. College life wasn't extraordinary as movies advertised. She had a total of one friend, and that's only because they were forced to share a dorm room together at Princeton. "Besides, I'm going to college. What more could you possibly ask for?" Mrs. Prescott withdrew a sigh. Her tolerance for Tiffany's sour attitude further depleted with each argument. "That isn't living!" she bellowed. Tiffany cast her a poisonous glare, enough to make Mrs. Prescott ashamed of her lack of control. "That isn't living, baby," she repeated softly. "You're twenty years old. Date around, party a bit, and just enjoy your youth before it's too late..." Her eyes were pleading, her heart on her sleeve.

"I don't want to talk about this," Tiffany muttered. Denial was supposedly normal in the grief cycle, but somewhere along the line, Tiffany's treatment had malfunctioned. Only Tiffany knew why. Therapists tried to crack her, but their efforts were naturally in vain. Opening her up was an impossible feat not even the best therapy in Philadelphia could offer. And, without fail, Mrs. Prescott moved onto an equally intrusive topic-- Hayden Scott. Way back when Tiff's world was bound by one boy in particular, Tiffany made the mistake of confiding in her mother. Ever since, she'd mentioned him each time they were in town simultaneously. "The judge's son is in town," Mrs. Prescott cooed. Tiffany rolled her eyes and scooted out of her chair. This piece of gossip she already knew. "Cool," Tiff replied, crossing her arms. "You should go talk to him." Tiff shook her head. "No, thanks. I'm good." With that, she walked out the door, crossed the hall, and slammed the door of her room.

[Deleted]

"Hi Tiffany, welcome back. Are you ready?"

Not really. "Sure."

"Come on in. How have you been?"

Peachy. Just peachy. "Great," she replied with a smile. "You?"

"It's been a long day, but I'm looking forward to today's session."

I'm not. "Me too," Tiffany replied, smile intact.

"Great, great!" Her optimism was unnerving. "Well, how's this week been? Is there anything that you want to kind of just... get off your conscience before we start?"

I killed my dead brother. "It's been good... Really busy. My classes are really testing my study habits."

"I'm not going to lie, I wouldn't want to go back to my college days. Are you still enjoying your classes?"

For Neal, yes. "Mhm." She repositioned herself, left leg over the right.

"Learning some new stuff?"

Duh. "Yup." Why was she here again? Oh, right. Her mom insisted she talked to someone.

"That's great, dear."

Tiffany. She chuckled.

Dr. Ross cleared her throat. "I know it's sometimes difficult to open up to a stranger, but as I mentioned before, it's good to kinda talk out what's bothering you, y'know?"

Not really. "Yeah, I know," she said instead.

"I take it you and your brother were closed-- Neal, right?"

"Yeah, Neal, and we were." Our chemistry was to die for. Literally.

"Tell me about him."

Wow, this bitch meant business. "Um..."

"Did he play sports or sing? What did you enjoy about spending time with him?"

Everything. Neal was perfect. "... I don't understand how these questions are supposed to help."

Busted.

"For some people, reminiscing about someone who'd passed on helps them accept their death."

"I don't really see how," Tiffany replied, not bothering to hide her distaste, eyebrows raised.

"Well, some methods aren't for everyone."

"You've got that right," she replied, smug. The wall was invisible. No matter composed it, but Dr. Ross was aware of the barricade she'd constructed. She'd been aware of the mental block since they're first session, eight weeks previous. Now on their ninth, Tiffany hadn't made any improvement. If anything, her condition worsened.

"Tiffany," Dr. Ross began slowly. "You told me in our first session that your brother fell off a roof, correct?"

Tiffany flinched, a bullet to the stomach. "Yes..."

"Were you there by any chance?" Ross pressed.

Eyes wide, heart racing, Tiffany shook her head. "A jogger called the case in the next morning."

"I see," Ross replied. She wrote a note on her pad, a note Tiffany wasn't allowed to see. "Do you blame yourself for what happened to him?"

Ouch. She played dirty. "It was an accident," Tiffany replied. She could feel her throat constricting.

"I'm not saying it wasn't, dear. Sometimes people wonder if there was anything they could have done to prevent deaths such as his. It's perfectly normal."

"Oh." Her muscles relaxed. Not all, but some.

"My job isn't to make you feel uncomfortable. If you're uncomfortable answering something, you don't have to. Our conversations are completely confidential unless your health is involved. You haven't tried harming yourself over this, have you?"

Not yet. "No! Of course not." Stay tuned.

"Good, I'm happy to hear that. Tiffany, I've never lost a sibling because I'm an only child, so I'm not going to lie and say that I know how you feel. I am here for you, though. I work solely with the intent of making you better."

"I know."

The clock was ticking. It looked like it was time for Tiffany to go.

"It looks like our time is up." She waved through the window. A burly man was awaiting his turn with the therapist. The end couldn't have come sooner. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

"Nope. I'm good"

"I'll see you next week?

Eh, maybe.

[/justify]

[Deleted]

Early in the Virginian morning, a miracle occurred, at least for the Prescott family. Mrs. Prescott went into labor at approximately twelve that night. Mr. Prescott hurried to collect the hospital bag. Tiffany wasn't their first child, but the chaos equally matched their trip with Neal. Mrs. Prescott was a sweet lady when she wasn't pregnant. Otherwise, her personal necessities quadrupled, and Mr. Prescott was forced to wait on her hand and foot. She sure was lucky he loved her. At this rate, they'd already been married for two years. Everyone in their gorgeous town of Chantilly knew that they'd have many more years together. Neal, their first child, was well-known among the community. His vivacious personality never failed to bring a smile to the grumpiest citizens' faces. Tiffany had a great big brother to protect her from all the evils in the world.

Tiffany was born the most natural of ways. Mrs. Prescott dug her nails into Mr. Prescott's wrist, yelling and screaming about how much she hated what he'd done to her. Meanwhile, he grimaced in pain and tried to soothe his laboring wife. A new, bald baby was presented to her arms an hour later. She'd been a stubborn young child, but Tiffany was beautiful. Mrs. Prescott gazed into her young child's face, her hazel eyes sparkling with pride. Mr. Prescott looked on his child in awe. This perfect creation had been made possible by the purest love he upheld for his wife. At twenty-six, he truly had everything he could ask for. He had been blessed by a stable job, an ideal wife, and now two wonderful children. He vowed that he'd never allow anyone to hurt his little girl the moment he held her in his shaky arms. His baby girl was so small.

Eventually, family members and close friends crowded into the room to see the newest addition to the Prescott family. Little James, the five year old son of the Kraft family next door, seemed astonished by the new life nestled in Mrs. Prescott's arms. "Baby! he exclaimed. A grin spread over the new mother's face. "It is a baby!" she grinned, stroking Tiffany's soft head gently. Tiffany wiggled at her touch, and everyone held their breath instinctively. Some feared she might burst into tears. Only when she remained quiet and still did their muscles contract and relax. "She's so beautiful," Lynn, Mrs. Prescott's best friend at the time, whispered. "Did you two decide on a name?" One in the same, the married couple exchanged a sheepish glance. "Tiffany Elaine," Mr. Prescott purred, falling deeper in love with his baby girl. Murmurs of agreement spanned through the small crowd that had the bed surrounded. Two year old Neal was held fast in his grandmother's arms.

He was struggling to break through, his green eyes clouded with grief. Mrs. Prescott opened her arms and reassured her mother-in-law that she was strong enough to hold her eldest child. She passed him off hesitantly, and Mr. Prescott sat down on the bed as well. This was the first time Neal and Tiffany were together, and their chemistry was obvious straightaway. "Dah!" Neal squealed happily. The room filled with hushed chuckles, though Neal had no idea he'd been the object of their laughter. "This is your baby sister, Neal!" Mrs. Prescott cooed. Neal's unfocused gaze set on his mother's face. He was much too young to comprehend her words, but he seemed to accept the fact nonetheless. "This is your baby sister!" she repeated. This time, Neal crawled over his mother's lap and brought his little fingers to Tiff's face. A small, astonished laugh escaped from his system. "Oooh," he spoke. Neal continued to poke around his little sister curiously. People grew tired of watching her uneventful slumber, and Neal continued to make illiterate ooh's and ahh's. Only when the doctor ordered everyone to give the new baby a break did Neal leave her side. As the nurse took Tiffany to the nursery, Neal's unhappy cries lingered in the halls.

[/justify]

[Deleted]

Early afternoon, maybe twelve or one o'clock, Tiffany finally rose from a long night's sleep. She'd fallen into her sheets around three in the morning. She and Neal had been up watching a plethora of horror films, most of which she had her head shoved under a pillow for. Sleep was exactly what she needed after a night of ghosts, mass-murderers, and shark attacks. There had been no limits set for the occasion. Technically, she wasn't even allowed to see rated R films yet. She was only fifteen years old, but she'd be sixteen in October. Neal let her drive to the rental place even though he wasn't allowed to. "Just don't crash, okay?" he said right before handing her the keys. "I won't," she promised.

The afternoon light streamed through her cracked blinds beautifully. The light danced across her bedroom floor and proceeded to slice her bed with sunshine. Tiffany needed to blink back the rays as she sat in her bed. Her eyes had yet to adjust to the room's atmosphere. After almost ten hours of darkness, she needed more than a couple minutes to transition into the world of the wide awake. "Yeah, feel free to come over whenever," she heard from across the hall. "Yeah... Uh huh... Nah, it's just me and Tiff... Okay, bye." Click. "Neal?" Tiffany called. She heard the papasan chair creak. "Yeah?" he called. "Come here!"

His friendly face appeared in the doorway. He looked amused, though Tiffany didn't know why. "Nice hair," he finally commented. Tiff narrowed her eyes, slapping a palm down on her rugrat-inspired hairdo. "Oh, shut up," she cried, throwing a pillow at him. He dodged it easily. The throw was weak, anyways. "What do you want?" he finally asked. Tiff sat straighter in her bed. "Who was that?" she wondered. Neal chuckled, shaking his head. "Who do you think?" he countered. Well, normally Tiffany would guess a girlfriend, but she happened to know Neal was very single at the moment. He'd never speak to their parents like he had, either. Truly, that only left one choice: Hayden. She voiced her guess aloud, feeling anxious as well as excited. By his face, Tiffany knew she was correct.

"Gee, how'd you guess?" Neal teased her. "Is that okay with you?" Yes, she thought. Of course Hayden was more than welcome to stick around. He could stay forever, if he'd like. "Yeah, that's cool," she replied instead. Tiffany wasn't sure if Neal had caught onto her little crush by now. If he had, he made no notion of it, which was probably best on all of their accounts. Best friends weren't supposed to date their best friend's sisters or something along those lines. Personally, Tiffany thought that rule in the "bro code" needed to be repealed. The heart wanted what the heart wanted, after all. If Hayden wanted to date someone two years younger than him, she couldn't see why he couldn't. Then again, he'd have to want to date her in order to do that, she realized.

Older boys liked pretty girls, Tiffany remembered. Looking in her vanity mirror, pretty wasn't what she'd describe her unkempt appearance. "I'm getting in the shower, Neal!" she cried. Tiffany tore open her drawers, retrieved underwear, a bra (the one that made her breasts look bigger), socks, a cute tanktop, and some shorts that were probably too short for Neal's tastes. Oh well! "Trying to impress someone?" Neal teased. Tiffany halted in front of his door. "What? No!" Her denial was obvious. Questioning who was coming over and just so happening to decide to hop in the shower seemed somewhat fishy, though Tiffany tried her best to deny it. In reality, Hayden Scott was on her mind on a loop. All the time.

[Deleted]

Hayden came over today.

I know that he hadn't come over for me, but the fact that he came over at all was pretty cool. There are days when I think he might like me back. I mean, I know it's a long shot and I shouldn't get my hopes up... Either way, today was a great day. I woke up late, and Neal basically hogged him all day. I was able to hang out with them later on. Neal and Hayden were playing the PlayStation, so I decided to go downstairs and see them. It took awhile, but Hayden finally invited me to join. HAYDEN, not Neal. If it wasn't so dramatic to say so, I'd say I almost died. He's so hot...

Whenever I write about him, I feel paranoid that Neal's going to find this one day and read everything. I'd be so embarrassed if he did. These are supposed to be MY private thoughts. I don't even let Amanda read this. I tell her pretty much everything she needs to know, anyways. Anyways, I really do think Hayden might be into me. Maybe. With him, there's always a bunch of mixed signals that I'm never sure how to read. He's my brother's best friend, so most of the time he just treats me as such. The best friend's little sister. Woopie. Sometimes he doesn't treat me as just as the kid sister, though. There's times like today when he'll actually invite me to hang out with him. With Neal around, of course.

I wonder if he ever mentions me to Neal. I wonder what he thinks when he looks at me. Does he think I'm pretty? Am I crazy? Ugh. It's insane how much I like him. I've had a crush on him since like the second grade. Yeah, it was a little crush back then. And yeah, it's nothing more than a crush now. I'm a freshman, though. He's a junior. Juniors date freshmen. Seniors even date freshmen. There's still some kind of hope, right? I mean, we're not even regular freshman/junior thing. We'd work because we know each other pretty well. I know that he likes pizza. I think. Well, who doesn't like pizza, right? Right. Ha. I'm absolutely, positively doomed.

Me and Hayden have never been romantically linked. I have Neal to thank for that. He's hugged me a couple times, though. He's a good hugger... I really wish I could hug him again. Or kiss him. That'd be cool, too. It'd be so romantic if things worked out between us, don't you think? The brother's best friend falls for his sister despite the brother's objections, they date, and in the end, it's happily ever after. I wish that could happen to me. Tiffany Scott. Prescott sounds better, but I think all maiden names sound better because that's what your parents named you. I wouldn't mind signing Tiffany Scott for the rest of my life, though. Here I go again, getting my hopes all high. I should really stop doing that. I don't think I'd be able to bear the heartbreak of rejection. Sometimes I wonder if I should tell him how I feel. I could corner him or something and just kiss him... Or just tell him. I mean, the worst thing he could do is say no, right? Gah. I'm so conflicted. Maybe I'll be able to think clearer after a good night's sleep. Night, diary.

[Deleted]

Tiffany eagerly unraveled the braids Mrs. Prescott had intertwined the night before. The end result was absolutely marvelous. Her hair fell a few inches passed her shoulders, hovering over her tiny waist. Her cheeky smile was crooked because she'd recently lost one of her front teeth, and the floral dress her mother chose for her stopped abruptly before her knobbly, seven year old knees. "Can we go to school yet, mommy?" she asked once again. Her kitty backpack was already strapped securely onto her back. She'd been surprisingly enthusiastic about school that year. In first grade, she'd throw a tantrum every time Mr. Prescott strapped her into her booster seat. No one really knew why she'd been so eager this year. No one really cared about why her flame for school finally ignited. In the end, it was better not to question the hand that fed them.

Tiffany knew exactly why the second grade was better than the first. Mrs. Keller was much nicer than Miss Welch, for example. She made arithmetic fun, and students were given candy if they scored well on tests. Personally, Tiffany disliked tests. Candy encouraged her to perform her very best. So far, she'd been given three pieces of candy, and they had only taken four tests. Three! The first was a Kit Kat. The second was Laffy Taffy. Unfortunately, she couldn't remember what her last piece was. Her best friend, Amanda, had only earned two pieces of candy, which made Tiffany absolutely berserk. Everyone knew two was greater than three; therefore, she was smarter than her other half. She'd actually shared her Kit Kat with Amanda the first time. After that, Tiffany told her she needed to score higher in order to have candy because she wasn't sharing "no more." Mrs. Keller also read them fantastical stories with dragons and princesses with pretty dresses. Tiffany enjoyed listening to stories with knights in shining silver armor and extravagant castles.

Sometimes, Tiffany pretended that she was a princess, too. Neal often told her that she wasn't one, but she pretended to be royal anyways. From the bottom of her heart, Tiffany even invited Neal to be the king. Hayden was the knight most of the time, though he didn't really ever play with them. He'd much rather play with Hot Wheels with Neal. She didn't really need him to play the role of prince, anyways. Henry, her stuffed bear, stepped in for him whenever he wasn't up for playing make-believe with her. She preferred Hayden over a stuffed animal, but she'd never let Henry know that. Henry was a good bear, but he wasn't a cute nine year old boy with scruffy black hair. Yes, Hayden was yet another reason why second grade outshined the first. Beforehand, Tiff had never realized how dreamy boys could actually be. Most boys had cooties. Hayden didn't, though. She'd asked him about it last week, and he told her, "No, I don't have cooties!"

Cassius Taylor had cooties. Brandon Miller had cooties. Mr. C, the gym teacher, even had cooties! "Can we go yet?" she asked again, more impatient than the first time. "Hold on, baby. I'm almost done." Tiffany withdrew an agitated sigh. "I'm going to be late for recess!" she said matter-of-factly. Neal came into the room, tousled hair and bored expression written all over his face. "Neal! Tell mom we have to go to school," Tiffany demanded. Meanwhile, Mrs. Prescott was chuckling behind the counter. "Here's your lunch, sweetheart," Mrs. Prescott said, handing Tiff her pink lunchbox. Tiffany snatched her meal and marched to the door. "Come on! Come on!" she squealed. "We're going to be late!" Neal looked at the clock and looked at his sister. "School doesn't start for an hour!" he argued, scooping cereal into his mouth. Tiffany's noticeably fell. "What's the rush, sweetheart?" Mrs. Prescott asked. Tiffany held her breath, shrugging. "Nothing!" she spluttered out quickly. She retreated to the table. After only a few moments of silence, she asked, "Can we go yet?" Mrs. Prescott simply laughed.

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Down the hallways and to the right, there was a door. Without peeking inside, the door looked identical to the others. White wood. Antiquated crystal doorknobs. Tiffany distinctly remembered the golden bulbs they used to be. The passage of time had evolved Chantilly, her ancient childhood home included. An office was currently occupied the space, but Tiffany’s memory of a messy teenage boy’s room replaced the scene. To her, the room would always smell of sweat and pepperoni. No amount of wallpaper or Febreze could erase Neal’s imprint. Not for her.

She cautiously stepped forward, as if a misplaced step might activate unseen mines. Visiting the room gashed open old wounds. There wasn’t a specific reason why Tiffany decided to evoke such grief. Moving on required mercy. No one earned redemption after their hands were marked with blood, but goddamnit, she hadn’t meant to kill her brother. All the same, here she was, paying her dues to his old bedroom. Pathetic. She was utterly pathetic.

Her trembling hands reached up to wipe tears from her eyes. Every time she returned to Virginia, her emotions became a time bomb. Every second threatened to drive her over the edge. Why had they been up on that roof? Why had they been drinking? Better yet, why Neal? Tiffany lowered her shaking body into a nearby office chair. Mrs. Prescott was out shopping for dinner, so that left Tiffany with approximately thirty minutes to purge her system of grief. Shedding tears in Neal’s bedroom-turned-office was almost a ritual now.

Aristotle was a bright fellow in his archaic age. Purging of emotions happened to be one of his major philosophies. Catharsis worked outside of tragic plays, Tiffany discovered. One long look at her mother’s yellowing scrapbooks stimulated the waterworks. Neal’s death had stopped her scrapbooking days in their tracks. Apparently recording the past wasn’t rewarding after someone lost their son to “suicide.” Happy memories curdled under the impression a son had taken his own life. Tiffany once overheard her parents discussing their childrearing techniques. From her perch behind the door, a courageous slice of Tiffany wanted to spill the beans to them. Coming clean was a frequent but dangerous thought. Who knew what her parents might say when they learn of her secrets?

Mascara more than likely caked her face with the onslaught of tears. The error was all her own. Manning up to the room hadn’t been spontaneous in the least. Sitting across the hallway, Tiffany had stared at the closed door, tormented by the thoughts of that night. Flipping through scrapbooks was her therapy. The goofy snippets of her brother made her laugh. Serious photographs including Neal Prescott were unheard of. Tiffany was often surprised by the profanity featured in her mom’s sacred works. Perhaps Mrs. Prescott wanted to capture Neal’s essence. Whatever the reason, Tiffany was grateful. Someone was smart enough to enjoy her brother while he still, well, existed.

Halfway through the second scrapbook, Tiffany brushed her thumb across a family portrait. The backdrop was completely computer-generated, but the human beings within the frame were authentic enough. She and Neal were kneeling down in front of their parents. She remembered the photographer coaxing Neal to smile like a normal person should, but the end result was a lost cause. A handful of shots later, Mr. Prescott decided the strife wasn’t worth the effort. Four wacky faces were chosen as the final edition. The Christmas cards that year were a huge hit. In fact, Tiffany was one hundred percent sure Mrs. Prescott had taped a copy on the next page.

Not a soul knew about Tiffany’s compulsive need to flip through her childhood. Seeing the photographs helped keep Neal’s memory fresh in her mind. That was the most important thing to Tiffany. Few Chantilly residents could recall him from their memory. Tiffany didn’t want to be among them. Alas, her eyeballs poured over the designed pages of each scrapbook for as long as possible. She’d return to Chantilly in a month to commemorate Neal’s birthday, but memorizing every crevice of his face was essential. She vowed she’d never forget about him. Neal was her brother, dead or alive.

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