Hayley hadn't expected
a visitor, let alone Roy Harper. The words he'd said stung in her head. Bianca wasn't a killer... but she was. She couldn't reconcile what he'd said with what she believed, and yet she couldn't shake off his words, either
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She needed to cheer up, she really did. So she figured she'd go to one of the few friends she'd made. Something had her going to Hayley rather than the other Elle, though. She knocked at Hayley's door and waited.
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"Oh, hi Elle," she said.
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"What's wrong?" Elle asked, worried.
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Over Hayley's bed was a few tattered remains of photos and newspaper clippings, her bedside trashcan filled with crumpled paper.
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Hayley kept frowning, looking down at the picture.
"I don't know," she said again. "I just want it all to make sense."
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She hated seeing her friend in pain like this, positively hated it.
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She crumpled up the picture and threw it across the room. "He said some things, and I want to say he was lying but I don't know."
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"I just don't want to lose anyone else," she said.
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A beat.
"And at least you had a visitor. I got nobody."
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"You've got me," she said.
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