The roar of the Friday night crowd at Mariner's Rest High School vibrated in Maya's chest. She stood alone in the parking lot, a solitary figure amidst the sea of cheering fans. The strong smell of deep-fried food, hot dogs, and soft pretzels suffocated the warm late-summer air. Ethan had just waved goodbye to Maya and, before he disappeared into the bowels of the team bus, he gave her a concerned look and warned her to be careful. The exchanged a look, both of them determined in their individual causes. Ethan carried his helmet in his hands and joined Alex and the other teammates by the bus. The football coach was shouting something to them, getting them psyched up and ready to conquer.

Behind the bleachers, and behind the concession stands, four sets of double-doors painted the school colors, black and crimson red, led into narrow carpeted hallways, each joining the locker rooms. She saw some of Mariner's Rest football players lingering on the inside of the hall on the other side of the door.

Then, she saw him. Mark, with his tousled dark brown hair, and lines of crimson and black paint smeared beneath his eyes, slipping into the shadows near the school's locker room. Curiosity, laced with a touch of trepidation, propelled her forward.

"Mark?" she called out softly, her voice barely audible over the cheers.

He turned, his face a mask of anger that morphed into surprise as he recognized her. "Maya? What are you doing here?"

His voice was laced with an edge of hostility that sent shivers down her spine.

"I needed to talk to you," Maya said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hand. He didn't respond, just stared at her with a cold intensity.

Sensing her discomfort, Maya blurted out, "It was you, wasn't it? At Cairo's party. You were the one arguing with Arilla."

Mark's jaw clenched, and his voice rose an octave. "Yeah, I was there! But only for a minute! You can't just-"

He stopped abruptly, as if realizing how his outburst sounded. Suddenly his voice cracked. His shoulders slumped, and his anger dissolved into a look of raw pain that took Maya aback.

"I was in love with her, Maya," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "And I was stupid. I just wanted to see her, talk to her. I fucking miss her like I've never missed anyone before."

His words spilled out in a torrent of regret, his voice raw, pausing to take calm breaths. "I was at Cairo's party," he admitted. He had been consumed by a desperate hope of rekindling what he and Arilla had lost and had waited for her outside, where nobody could see him, hoping to talk to her. When he found Arilla, she confirmed his worst fears.

"She told me she was seeing someone else," Mark continued, wiping a tear from his cheek. "Said they'd been dating for two weeks."

His voice broke, filled with a despair that resonated within Maya. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Even when she was dating me, she didn't even want a boyfriend," he said, sobbing, "That's what she told everyone. She was the one who asked me, and then told everyone I had asked her, and then just wouldn't leave. She made me sound crazy."

Two weeks. Maya's mind raced. The timeline fit perfectly with the gossip she'd heard in Bridgeport.

"Who was she seeing?" she pressed, urgency fueling her question. "Was it Cairo?"

Mark shook his head, his denial tinged with a bitter sadness. "I don't know. I didn't want to know. It was like my world collapsed."

He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "I loved her," he whispered, his voice raw with pain. "Still do. Even through the hell she put me and everyone else through."

His words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the tragedy that had shattered their lives.

For the first time, Maya saw Mark not as a potential suspect, but as a grieving boy who'd lost the love of his life. There was no malice in his tear-streaked face, only a profound sense of loss. He lowered his eyes, tears flooding down his face.

"People in Bridgeport said you were stalking her," Maya said gently, the accusation sounding hollow in the face of his genuine heartbreak.

Mark scoffed, a flicker of anger returning to his brown eyes. "Of course they did! A loving gesture like that easily misinterpreted by miserable people who only see the negative. If someone hurt me like that, I'd be grateful for the apology, and give them another chance. That's what good people do. If a person says they accept your apology, but still cut you out, they don't really accept your apology. Real forgiveness is demonstrated through action."

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

His words were laced with a self-righteousness that jarred Maya. But beneath it, she saw a glimmer of truth.

"Why apologize so profusely, then?" she pressed, trying to navigate the emotional minefield of his grief.

Mark let out a shaky breath. "Jealousy. She always wanted to be with everyone else, even other guys. But me? Never seemed interested. I liked going out and doing things. Getting ice cream, going to the beach, long hikes through the woods, Frisbee golf. She never wanted to do anything like that with me, no matter how often I invited her, but when one of her friends invited her to do those very same things, she'd blow off plans with me to be with them. Even sex she treated like an obligatory chore with me. The only time she ever seemed enthusiastic was when she had any number of her fuck boys over."

Then Mark admitted something Maya didn't expect.

He admitted to a drinking problem, and how the alcohol fueled his accusatory outbursts. However, beneath his anger, Maya sensed a genuine love for Arilla, a love twisted by insecurity and fueled by alcohol. He looked at her directly in the eyes and swore he was never violent. He would never hurt anyone. Especially not the people he loved.

"She gaslighted me, Maya," he said, his voice thick with a pain that resonated with her own confused memories of Arilla. "Made me question my own sanity. I know how this is going to sound, Maya, but I have never asked anyone out before. I never think I'm good enough. My parents always telling me I need to do better, even when I'm doing my best, anyone I've ever dated has always cheated on me or left me for another guy. I just don't ask because I know how it always ends. Arilla invited me over. And when it was time for me to leave, she asked me to stay. And even before we discussed it, she introduced me to her friends as her boyfriend. I remember it perfectly. It was one of the happiest moments of my life, even better than wining the big game, or getting that football scholarship. I looked at her next to me and she said, 'well, you've been around enough.'"

Not the most re-assuring way to ask someone out. Though Maya was trying to remain impartial and non-judgmental, that should've been a huge red flag for Mark, but love makes us ignore what we don't want to see. And Mark was definitely in love, deeper than any common school crush.

His words were a chilling echo of Arilla's manipulations, a revelation that painted Arilla in a far more complex light than Maya had initially imagined.

The finality of Mark's words hung heavy in the air. "I would've done anything for her," he whispered, his voice cracking. "When she broke up with me, I immediately got help with my drinking. I thought it would show her how serious I was, and if she truly loved me like she said she did, then she'd appreciate my efforts and see how much she meant to me. But it wasn't really the drinking. She was just exploiting it as an excuse to leave me, to sleep around with other guys."

They stood in silence for a moment, two souls bound by a shared loss. Maya knew what it was like to be rejected, but she couldn't say she had ever felt love for anyone as deeply as Mark felt for Arilla. Maya found it romantic and wondered if anyone would ever love her like that, or if she was even capable of that depth of love.

Maya only had a few questions left and knew Mark needed to get ready for the game. So for now, Maya knew pushing Mark further wouldn't yield any new information.

"Who else was she seeing at the party?" she asked finally, her voice laced with a newfound empathy. She even felt her own eyes starting to dampen.

Mark shook his head with a weary defeat. "Who wasn't she seeing? Everyone who wanted a piece of Arilla, men or women, they got her. The ones who were smart enough knew to stay away."

His cynicism cut deep, a stark contrast to the heartbroken boy sobbing moments ago. He glanced at the locker room, a flicker of urgency replacing the despair in his eyes. "Look, I gotta go get ready for the game." He wiped his eyes, and doing so smeared his makeup.

Maya knew she had learned as much as she could for now. "About the necklace," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Was it yours? One of your apology gifts?"

"Nah," he scoffed. "Arilla didn't wear stuff like that. Earrings, maybe. Whatever this necklace is, if she was wearing it, she must've really cared about them. More than she had cared about me."

With a curt nod, Maya turned away. Her investigation was taking on new layers of complexities she hadn't anticipated. As she walked toward the football field, a final image burned in her memory – Mark huddled in the corner, hidden from public eyes, his body wracked with heavy, continuous sobs.

The cheers and pre-game music suddenly felt like a jarring mockery of the pain hidden just offstage. Was Mark a killer, a brokenhearted boy, or both? Maya couldn't say. But beneath the façade of the familiar, the shadows of Bridgeport and Mariner's Rest were deepening, and the secrets they held threatened to consume them all.

Seeing Mark suffering like that had brought tears to her own eyes. She sniffled and rubbed them dry remembering she had to stay focused. There was still one more person she needed to talk to in Mariner's Rest and she had less than thirty minutes to get there.

The sky had grown dark, the last sliver of orange dipping into the foggy horizon beyond the crashing Pacific waves. She walked away from the high school field, away from the throng of cheering friends and family of the two football teams. Away from the lights and the smell of fried foods. Away from everyone, until she was walking alone down dark streets. The sidewalks were empty.

Everyone must be at the game. Most of the shops were still open, but a few had already closed. Feeling nervous, she glanced over her shoulder half-expecting to see a dark figure following her, but there was no one. Screams erupted from the bleachers. The game was about to begin.

Suddenly feeling alone and vulnerable away from everyone, in an unfamiliar town, with someone out there trying to hurt her. Maybe even kill her. Maya felt her throat run dry as she quickened her pace. Worry grew in the pit of her stomach.

Maybe exploring Mariner's Rest alone in the dark wasn't such a good idea, she thought.