A/N: The last and concluding chapter of Secrets is finally out, after 3 months. xD. I hope you enjoy it, because I really did put in effort for this chapter, seeing that my exams are over and all. I do apologise about the visual scene of cutting which I was about to put in here; then decided that I couldn’t cope with writing about it.

If you have any queries about the story, please feel free to email me. All other attempts to befriend me (hurh, hurh.) are very welcome. ^^;;

Pluggage! Listen to Evanescence - Going Under / Great Expectations OST – Life in Mono, 2 of my favourite angst tracks. They kept me through writing this, and the both of them happen to fit this last chapter very well.

And lastly, here’s a note to those who stuck with me, ghost-read, or had reviewed this story. Thank you so much. Me loves you, and please do review this chapter, as well as check out my new story Don’t Dream It’s Over.

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Secrets: Le Mystère est Unravelled … [epilogue]

*

Switchblade in hand, Ezra climbs out of her room through the fully open window. Carefully, she puts her foot on the window ledge, testing its steadiness. It doesn’t give way or crack, to her tremendous relief. Smiling, Ezra puts both legs on the ledge and climb out.

She looks down. It’s a long way before ground. Taking in deep breaths, Ezra embarks on her most, perhaps, adventurous adventure. Before her, she hears the sound of the door breaking open, and screams and shouts.

“Ezra!”

Ezra looks up for a moment, her palms closely clasped onto the ledge, her two feet dangling. For some reason, she turns around to take one last look at those people she calls her parents. Her parents. What a laugh, she thinks.

Her mum looks sad now. Ezra cannot help but feel a wave of pity rise in her; for this woman who had to raise her despite being beaten by her husband. Tears form in her eyes. If they didn’t want her, why didn’t they abort her years back? Ezra would be so much happier if she didn’t come into existence, she reckons.

“Ezra, please don’t run.” Her mum edges closer to her. Ezra grips the edge of the window.

“What do you know about running?” Ezra says softly to herself. She takes a look down. 14 whole storeys down. The joy from living in an apartment, she grins.

“You bitch! Come right up this instance!” Her father’s voice thunders through the room. Don’t worry, Dad. Soon, you won’t even need to worry about me.

Ironically, she starts to sing. A song that she learnt a long time ago, when her family was still a picture of perfect-ness. Before she found out that she came about through an affair, one that her mother never broke off. She was a bastard, as those books often said. She smiles again.

Suddenly, her life flashes in bits and pieces, in her mind. Ezra once read, that when someone was about to die, their lives would be played like an old movie, in black and white tones, in their mind. Ezra sees the day she made it into the cheerleading squad. The day where she became friends with Dyane. How she has always liked Dylan. How her heart broke when she realised that Dylan was in love with Dyane. And so on, and so on.

Lost in the moment, the switchblade slips from her grasp. Ezra panics, and wakes up from her little daydream. Her switchblade falls, and lies on the ground. She grins. Perhaps, this is a sign, that she no longer needs to escape from her life.

“GET BACK HERE!” Her parents are reaching. Uh-oh, she thinks. Bad Ezra. The game wasn’t supposed to be like this. The hero should never let the evil villains catch them. Ezra releases her grip from the windows, and stand on the ledge. In the background, she hears a scream. Presumably her mum.

And they never will catch me, will they?

Of course, they won’t. Smiling, Ezra takes a step out of the window ledge. One step at a time.

The next thing she knows, she’s falling.

*

Fuck.

He knows he’s too late, even before he has reached there. He feels it, somehow. That it’s game over for Ezra.

Dylan swears as he stops running. He raises his eyes to heaven. Is there even a God, he wonders?

Perhaps there is, he thinks, but God sure isn’t fair to Ezra. He just closes his eyes and prays that Ezra would be happier.

Wherever she is, or was, right now.

*

Dyane stares at the printout in her hand. She stares and stares, wishing that, for once, she did have to wear contacts or glasses.

There must be a reasonable explanation for this. Why is he here?

Dyane looks at the picture again. In all of the hype surrounding her parents’ and sister’s death, which had been touted one of the most serious accidents in the state, never was a small boy mentioned.

It could be just a coincidence. Maybe he just happened to be around there, and was photographed as well.

But the familiar chill that runs up Dyane’s spine tells her that there’s more than this. She’s seen him too many times, in her dreams. The picture only proves that he’s involved in this somehow.

But why haven’t I seen him before? He’s just around my age, I suppose. Someone must know of this; why hasn’t anyone tell me about it?

“Miss, the library is closing. Perhaps you can come tomorrow?”

“Just, please spare me a few minutes!” Dyane practically begs. No. Not now, when I’m one step closer to the truth. The librarian, on her part, shakes her head firmly.

“I’m sorry, but we have our rules.” Dyane feels the tears coming, but she has to be strong. She nods and grab her bag, then proceeds to run home. Maybe, someone at home can tell her something.

*

There’s nothing. A wave of disappointment scours over her. There must be something.

Dyane furiously drags out all the boxes in her aunt’s cupboard, which were supposed to be memorabilia of her family. She opens them one by one, and feels the sadness stir up in her again.

Sarah. She looks at her older sister’s belongings. How she missed Sarah, who was 2 years older than she was. Even though she was just 8 when the accident happened, Dyane remembers how much she and her older sister loved each other. There were no fights, only fun.

Mum. Sweet, perfect Mum. How Dyane misses her; all those nights where her aunt read a story to her, how she wished her mum was still alive.

Daddy. More than anything, Dyane loves her father. Her dad was always fair and just, and it didn’t seem right that his death was just classified as accident. None of her family’s death should be classified in that way. Dyane closes her eyes, and tries to relieve the scene.

It was a happy outing, that day was, she remembers. They were just returning home from a celebration of Dyane turning eight. She still remembers how happy she was when her parents brought her to ‘Happy House’, a bright and colourful restaurant which existed solely for kids, as her mum used to say.

Then the accident replays itself in her mind. Her dad suddenly yelling, “and swerving dangerously to the side. 8-year-old Dyane screams, so does her family. But before she closes her eyes, she sees someone running into the forest. Then she hears a loud bang, and before she knows it, her pretty colourful world turns as dark as onyx.

Dyane opens her eyes. Someone running.

Oh my god.

Her breathing grows shallow and uneven. Her blood races. Dyane takes in a deep breath. How could she have failed to see it all these years? She runs to her room, opens the wardrobe, and digs under her seemingly endless pile of clothes to retrieve a box. The memoirs of the accident, she thinks bitterly. She throws open the cover and feels her head spin as she sees her blood-stained clothes, of which she had clamored years back to keep them, because it was her ‘favourite-dest’ dress.

She picks up the exact dress she wore when she was eight and feels the memories rush to her head. Trembling ever so slightly, Dyane reaches into the little pocket that was stitched into the pretty dress, and remove a piece of paper, stained dark red.

She reads the scribbly handwriting. Damien, she realises. Yes, this was the very note she forgot about. Damien and Dylan had invited her to play in the forest, on that very night, to celebrate her birthday. She can still bring up the image of Dylan blushing as he handed her the note, and ran away.

Dyane knows something is very wrong. And she needs to complete the picture.

With Dylan and Damien’s help.

*

‘Damien.

           

            Meet me at the forest. – Dyane.’

Damien laughs; a cold and bitter laugh. Why wasn’t he scared, he wondered? Maybe he had envisioned this day a long time ago. He knew things would end up like this, somehow. Dyane was no woman to trifle with.

Over the years, his parents had done so much, to protect him. To make sure that Dyane would not uncover anything, especially the truth. Over the years, he had even duped himself into believing that all would be ok, that the past could be forgotten, and he could lead a new life.

He had even fallen in love with Dyane.

And the nightmares had came back. Recurring nightmares, flashbacks of the past. Always serving as a painful memory, and refuting his claim that his life was perfect.

The time is here, he thinks. He picks up his bag and leaves a note for his parents.

Perhaps he was right after all.

He had been living in a deluded fantasy.

*

Dyane stands in the forest, clutching her bloodstained dress. The faded red colour had somehow smudged onto her palms; yet, she was calm and collected.

Nothing else matters more than getting down to the bottom of this matter. She knows that the incident had happened a long time ago; and sometimes, it wasn’t worth to dig past issues up.

But the feeling that Dylan and Damien had been hiding something from her, for all these years, had been eating into her for these past days. She involuntarily shivered.

The blowing wind causes the leaves of the trees to rustle. One by one, the maple-shaped leaves fall from the trees; each a magnificent shade of red or brown. Dyane picks one up and stares at it.

“Dyane.” It is more like a statement, than a greeting. Dyane looks up to see Damien.

Or is it Dylan?

What lies have they been telling her all this time? What have they kept from her? Someone steps out from the dark. Dyane shifts her gaze to this other person; Dylan. Damien smirks, in spite of the situation.

Or is it Damien?

“Damien. Dylan.” Dyane holds out the bloodstained dress, and removes her treasure family photo from her journal.

“Tell me. How were you guys involved in the accident?” Dylan starts to protest; but somehow, Dyane’s cold eyes shut him up. He’s afraid. He’s never seen Dyane that way before. There’s something in her gaze that makes him want to reach out to her, yet at the same time run from her.

The photo and dress slips from her hands and falls onto the ground. The three of them stare at the ground in silence as the maple leaves quickly cover up any trace of the dress and photo.

A tear falls. “Tell me now.”

Damien starts to speak. It’s all over, he thinks. Game over.

“Dylan and I found out about this forest clearing. We loved it very much, and wanted to share this place with you; you being our best friend. The day before you turned eight, we came to visit here in the night.”

“There were fireflies in the clearing. Kind of magical, huh? And perfect for your birthday.

Dyane looks pointedly at Dylan, who remains silent. He finally breaks under the tension.

“We wanted to show it to you. We wrote you a note, but we realised that you would never be able to make it. You see, our mum told us that you were going to ‘Happy House’ to celebrate your birthday. If we asked you out after then, your parents would have freaked.”

Dyane looks away; she knows what is going to come next. Damien continues. “And so, we devised a plan. A rather clever one for eight-year-olds like us. We would go to the clearing and wait for your dad to drive past on the way home, then stop him.”

“That way, you could have a parent chaperon and I could see the fireflies, eh?” Dyane spits bitterly. She starts to tremble. Her family was dead. Dead. No longer alive, no longer in existence. Just because of a few fireflies.

Damien nods. “We were so absorbed. We didn’t realise that you were arriving soon. Dylan suddenly screamed that he saw your car number.”

“Without thinking, Damien dashed in front of your Dad’s car to stop you guys. He didn’t think that your father would swerve unexpectedly; we both thought that your father would stop. But he didn’t.”

The tears fall freely now. “So the boy that ran away, he was you, Damien? You caused my family to die; just because of a few fucking fireflies.”

“Did you even realise how dangerous it was?” Dyane chokes and falls to the ground. Unbelievable. All these years, the two people that she had treasured the most had hid the truth from her.

“He was just eight --”

“Shut the fuck up, Dylan. You guys have messed up my lives, regardless of whether you were eight or not. Did you really think you can run from the blame yourself? You’re as much to blame as Damien is.”

With a shock, Dylan realises every word that Dyane had said was right. I can’t run away from this anymore. It’s as much a burden to Damien as it is to me. I played a part in the accident.

I’m not innocent.

 Silence ensues in the clearing. Dylan looks away uncomfortably.

“Did you think I’ve never regretted that day, Dyane? Your family is as close to me as they are to you. Don’t you think, every time I saw you, how much pain I’ve felt? Did you ever realise how you look so much like your mother, Clarise?” Damien pauses, “Don’t you think I’ve felt the pain? Especially when my parents tried to cover up the whole incident, making it seem like a harmless accident that happened?”

Fuck. Dylan curses. Damien should have never brought in their parents into this. He watches, rather helplessly as Dyane’s brown eyes grow wider and wider in shock and half-fright. Dyane struggles to stand up.

“Your parents tried to cover up the accident?” Each word is spat out in disdain. “And I thought that your parents were the next best thing I could have to my family,” Dyane wipes her tears away, “Boy, was I wrong.”

“So wrong to trust any of you Windsors. You’re a bunch of lying cheats. Messed up assholes. Damien; boy, am I so relieved that I’m no longer yours. I regret falling in love with you, I really did. You never had a bit of time for me.” Damien’s too tired to protest.

“Dylan. I’m just sorry I ever knew you. For a moment, I thought I really could bring myself to love you, after Damien. But now I see, it’s impossible.” Hurt. Pain. Hatred. He sees it clearly now; how Dyane can never return his love. Even without the truth spilling out.

Dyane bents down and removes the maple leaves on the pile, one by one. Finally she sees her dress and the photo. Nearly weeping, she picks them up. Goodbye, she whispers. She knows it’s impossible to forget the whole incident; nor can she bring herself to forgive the both of them; and the whole family.

Her whole life had been an entire lie, Dyane realises. Walking away, she lets the tears consume her.

Dylan and Damien watch quietly as the one girl they both love walks away from them; from their lives, to disappear in the darkness.

Game over.

***

A/N: That’s the end! Yeah, for real. xD. Can’t believe it? Grins. That was really the longest chapter I’ve ever written for Secrets. Honestly, I hate doing real endings. I love mysterious and cryptic endings like that. ^______^;; Anyway, you might ask, how about the other characters? What happened to them? Of course, I didn’t forget them, even though everyone must remember that this story revolves around the 3 of them.

Anyway, if you MUST know what happened to the rest, I won’t disappoint you! Although this is the ending that concludes Secrets, there’s another filler right at the bottom after this note, which will basically describe things 5 years from now. Honestly I don’t recommend reading the ‘5-years-later’ ending, since it might spoil the whole story, and it’s a rather hasty filler. But if you must …

It’s written in Dyane’s POV by the way. Thought I’ll try something different. And basically, it’s just her retelling what happened.

Pluggage: Dido – Here With Me (Roswell OST)

So here’s it!

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Secrets: Going Under [Filler]

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[Dyane’s POV]

5 years down the road, the place hasn’t changed a bit. I kneel down and place the flowers; chrysanthemums, on Ezra’s grave, then trace my fingers over the lettering.

Ezra Gray. 1988 – 2003. Much loved daughter and friend to all. We will keep you in our hearts. Bile rises in my throat. Much loved daughter? I wonder how much Ezra’s parents must have paid the people who did engraving to write that on.

Looking back, I do regret not paying attention to Ezra. If I knew she was in such pain, I swear I would have shared her troubles. Instead of thinking that she was chirpy and fine, and leaving her alone. The pain still stabs at my heart, when I received her farewell letter to me in my first year at Harvard. But as they often say, no use crying over spilt milk. It was just foolish to regret what I’ve done two years ago.

Ezra, thank you. I kissed my fingers, and put them to her grave. No matter what, she will always remain in my heart. I stand up and gather the rest of the flowers.

I was moving on. Better than I thought I would be able to. After that night, I thought my world was irreparable. But I kept the secret of what happened that night to myself. No use kicking up such a fuss over something that happened almost 10 years ago, I told myself. After graduation, I applied for Harvard, and I got in. 5 years of studying and graduating with top honours later, I decided to return back to where I came from.

“Mum, I’m here to see you. And everyone else.” I smile as I put tulips on my mother’s grave. I had never been able to visit her grave back when I was in high school. I even went as far as to create excuses to avoid visiting the grave with my aunt. But somehow, now that the truth is out, I can accept their deaths better.

I put roses on Sarah’s grave and stargazers on Dad’s grave. “It must be hard for you; not seeing me for so many years. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t forgive myself for living on. It was much too hard.” Over the years, there wasn’t a night where I could sleep soundly, or close my eyes without shedding a tear.

“Dyane Mitchell?” A voice calls out. I look up, in surprise, and stare at someone who looks almost foreign. The person grins.

“Christ, it’s me! Lara. McWilliams. Classic goth and aspiring actress.” She smiles as my eyes give away the shock I was trying to keep hidden. I embrace her gently.

“What’s up with you? You look the part of an actress.” I smile and make small talk. Lara grins her familiar cat-ate-the-canary smile. It was really good to see her without her smirk and thick make-up, although I missed the smirk.

“Gosh, where have you been? Lostville?” She shrugs. “I’m ok. I doubt you know; years ago, some stupid tabloids found out that I was the daughter of the famous McWilliams actors. And my sister is Cleo McWilliams, something I was always very happy to hide from everyone at school.”

Now I can feel my eyes really widen, and my mouth forms a little O. “Cleo McWilliams? Darn, I knew there was something familiar about your family name. I used to love her movies!”

Lara chuckles. “Not me. Anyway, someone called me up and wanted to ask me whether was I interested in doing advertising his product. Naturally, I agreed. Remember Mrs. Flaunders? Turns out that she put in my resume that I was a good actress. Things kind of happened after that.”

“Enough about me, what about you?” I tell her about my 5 years in Harvard and how I graduated from there a week ago, and now I was back to visit the graves of Ezra and my family. Lara in turn tells me about Carlos and Roxanne, who were the most unlikely couple in high school.

“Turns out, they’ve gotten married! I was so envious when I visited them the other day on the way to the studio. Their son, Dylan, is uberly cute! You just got to love that guy --” Lara shuts up for a while as she watches my expression changes.

“Seriously, what’s up with the 3 of you? I thought you guys used to be best friends. Then all of a sudden, weeks before Grad Night, you guys split up.”

“It’s nothing.” Yeah, right, Dyane. I try to convince myself that I meant what I said. “How’s Damien?” Lara pauses for a while. “Damien?”

I nod, knowing that all she was about to tell me was bad news. It was evident from her facial expression. She sighs. “Last we heard of Damien was after Grad Night. He disappeared after graduation. His parents have entirely given up hope on finding him or waiting for him to return. Apparently, however, someone from our year said that she saw Damien in Switzerland.”

I try to stop the tears that were going to come. Damien. God. Just thinking about the name makes me remember the words I’ve said that night. I say a silent prayer for him, hoping that he is happy in wherever he is.

Lara hands me a tissue. “As for Dylan,” she continues, “he’s a major great cook now!” Lara allows herself a little smile before she continues. “He’s head of this rather huge food chain, which he developed after 2 years in studying food sciences in the local university. Right now, he’s off filming his new cooking series in some place.” I had to grin at this. Dylan always wanted to be a coo.

A familiar tone plays; I realise it’s the tone of Dylan’s phone. Half in shock, I look around, waiting for Dylan to appear. Lara turns sheepish as she pulls out her phone. She speaks in a foreign language, which I suppose, was French, and puts the phone into her bag.

“Sorry, Dyane, I really have to go. A last minute meeting and all, you see. Mind if I ask you out for coffee tonight?” She takes out a piece of paper and scribbles something on it. “Don’t be late!” Winking, Lara leaves the cemetery.

-

I sit down in the café, sipping a cup of tea. Where’s Lara?

“Dyane.” The voice shocks me. I haven’t heard it for years; and it brings chills to me.

“Dylan.” I watch as Dylan pulls up a chair and sit opposite me. He orders a coffee and looks at me. I try to make myself feel angry, feel the strong hatred I had for him 5 years ago; but surprisingly, I find that I can only muster a weak smile.

“It’s been a long time, Dyane. Why didn’t you tell me you were back?”

“Like you want to know.” I stir my cup of tea absent-mindedly. Dylan looks amused. “I would, Dyane. Do you still hate Damien and I? Damien’s missing, you know.”

“I do.”

“So don’t hate him. For all we know, he might be dead or alive in some region of the world.” I watch as sadness glaze over his eyes. The spell is finally broken. I smile and put my hand over his.

“We might not be as close as we were previously, Dylan. I don’t ever think I can bring myself to fully forgive the Windsor family. You guys practically killed my family, indirectly or not. You cannot deny it.”

Dylan looks at me, with a look of hope in his eyes.

“But can we be friends, at least?” The way he says it, I find myself remembering the days when we were young and played in the mud.

I smile at him. Finally, the knot in my heart has been untied.

“Friends.” Dylan smiles.

*

A/N: Blah, thanks for sticking with me, blah, I hoped you enjoy the filler, if not, I warned you that it would spoil the story, didn’t I? Ok. That’s all. Now push that little button below … and yeah. REVIEW! Thank you. ^_________^