guinegreer | inbox for saltburnt;

Greer - it's Hawk.

I know there aren't any words right now to make it hurt less, and you're probably sick of people asking how you're doing, but I just wanted to say hello anyway.

That...and I've got to ask you something. I hate to bring it up now, but it's important. People are dying, and it doesn't look like it's slowing down any time soon. I want to make sure you're safe, first and foremost, okay?

But I need to know how well you know Betty Cooper. Have you seen this?

[ when greer's reply comes, it mostly just sounds tired — like she's been trying and failing to get any sleep (true) and keeping confined to her room (also true). most of the breakfast trays left outside her door (by giles, most likely) have gone untouched. ]

What? You're saying — more people now, not just — ? [ she can't really bring herself to say his name right now, for obvious reasons. but it does prompt her to sit up in bed, looking over betty's profile more thoroughly. ]

I... I didn't see this before. I wasn't really looking at anyone else's — but Betty's never been anything but kind to me, anything but a friend from the beginning of us all being here.

This place makes us do things all the time, things we'd never do if we were in our right mind. So what if she was manipulated somehow, compelled? [ it's the only way she can make sense of it in her mind, especially because she could never imagine betty would be capable of murder. ]

Six more.

[there's a heavy pause, an exhale that's equally exhausted.]

I don't think they're connected to - to him. I'm fairly sure this one is the house putting us in some fucked up game again.

One of the victims was found with a blonde hair - past shoulder length. You can imagine how well that's going.

I've been keeping your name out of it, but another friend of mine - she's being accused by more than one person. The evidence they have...it's pretty sound, but I don't think she'd do this.

[there's a noise like hawk's run an exasperated hand over his face.]

Got a pretty good feeling if you're anything like me, sleep isn't coming so easy these days. Do you know...was she here the night it happened? Did you hear her leave at all, come back? Anything would help Greer. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't...this bad.

And I wouldn't have thought anything of it if the crimes didn't line up with a self-declared murderer.

How — ?

[ it doesn't matter how, she thinks, when it won't change the fact that they're dead, just like embry. that embry is still dead, and there's nothing that can be done about that either. there's nothing that is going to be able to bring him back.

but now he's asking her to remember, to think back to a specific time, and greer closes her eyes, pushes out a breath, tries to think through the fresh wave of emotion. ]

... no. I don't remember. I don't know if she would have come in. I wasn't listening out that closely for her — for anyone, really.

[ and maybe she would have, if she'd known she needed to be listening out — if she'd known it might be the difference between betty being accused of something she didn't do and maybe looking more suspicious in hindsight. ]

I wish I could be more help. To you, to her... for all of it. I just haven't really — [ she hasn't been able to think about anything else, since learning about embry, moving like a ghost, rarely leaving her room. she bites off the rest of her sentence then, before her voice damns her by wavering. ]

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