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Her face grows flabbergasted at the sound of the name I just called her. "Oh, you must be mistaking me for someone else. I'm Lana."

Lana? Who the fuck is Lana? My subconscious flickers through the notes of her lifetime. No Lana. She shakes her head. You shouldn't trust her.

I agree with her. For what I know, Beverly was an astounding manipulator. She might be disguising as someone else. She might know that me and Connor are friends. She might have found out who Will is, but if this is Beverly, then how the fuck did she get scraped off that road and then escape her own grave? Has she become another Uma Thurman when she played the Bride in Kill Bill and used her hands to break through the coffin? What. Is. Going. On?

You're nuts. My subconscious says. There's no other explanation for this.

I shake my head, stirring myself out of my musing. "Okay. . ." I mutter, blanched. "How can I help you?"

She tucks a strand of her long, silky her behind her ear, making a tiny diamond come to sight and sparkle in the sunlight. "This might sound a little crazy but. . ." She pauses. "Are you their daughter?"

A frown of concern crosses my forehead. She doesn't know my parents are dead. "I was," I say, flint.

Something in her eyes changes. It's like all the light that they withheld a second ago has suddenly dissolved into oblivion.

I watch her face and arms fall. "Oh." Is all she says. "Are they. . ?"

"Dead?" I help harshly, but then something within me softens because no matter what, I do miss my parents. "Yes, they are," I say, less bluntly. "They died a few months ago."

"Oh." She scratches her head and makes a grimace that tells me she's deciding on whether she should talk to me or turn around and be gone.

"Why?" I ask quickly, still bewildered by the fact that a real living form of Beverly is standing right in front of me.

"I. . ." She scrambles to form a sentence, but then she lifts up a note that she's been holding in her hand this whole time. "I found this address a long while ago, but I wasn't sure whether I should. . . I guess I should have. . . I wasn't expecting them to be. . . dead." She gives a loud sigh. "I'm. . . I was. . ." She takes a brief second to collect herself fully, then she speaks with confidence," I'm their daughter."

My mind becomes alert. Beverly was adopted, yes. But Lana? For what I know, Lana never existed. Lana has never been mentioned before or even speculated about. She can't be real. This must be Beverly, playing her tricks on me.

This conclusion and uncertainty makes me go blanched. The fact that I don't know what's true causes my legs to feel shaky and weak, or maybe it's the fact that my parents could have had twins and never told me. In this moment, I don't know what to believe, and unfortunately, the only thing I know is or was true is the existence of Beverly.

"How?" I ask. "How did you get out of that damn coffin?"

She blinks, stupefied. "Sorry?"

"I saw your grave. You're supposed to be dead. Why are you here?"

Her face grows even more flabbergasted. "I don't understand."

"Beverly Hamilton. Your name is Beverly Hamilton, and yes, you were adopted, and yes, my parents are also your parents, which makes you my sister, but why on earth are you here and why did you fake your own death and how did you do it and what the fuck do I do with all this!?" I point at her with my hands, absolutely clueless and short of breath.