Playing with Fire

e p i s o d e | t w e n t y - f i v e (pt. 1)

Rowan's house looks so much different without all of the scattered people and the messy red cups thrown on the ground. It's just a normal, comfortable home – the kind that any family would want to live in. It's the kind of coziness that I'd wanted ever since I was a child. It makes me feel like I'm finally home.

Sawyer hadn't intended on coming inside, so I just leave the front door unlocked for Rowan and head upstairs. I have bad memories of this floor – the first time I was here, a drunk guy had bumped into me, and the second time, Henri Chevalier had forced me into Rowan's room. But now, I don't feel anything dangerous.

I head into the first door, which appears to be a small study of some sort. There's a large, clean wooden table sitting there that doesn't look like it's been used. Large bookshelves line the walls.

A particular shelf of binders catches my eye, and I curiously walk up to it. Rows of differently-labeled binders are stacked against one another. One of the spines reads "Andrea Hawthorne." I remember Rowan telling me that that was his mother's name.

I hesitantly take the binder down and glance inside. An array of photos lines the protective sheets inside. Rowan looks exactly like the woman in the picture – black hair, green eyes. They even have that same rebellious vibe exuding from them. I smile to myself at the pictures for a while, until suddenly feeling bad for having taken such an intimate thing off the shelf. Quickly replacing the binder where it had been, I move my eyes along the row again. There's another binder labeled "Rowan."

Feeling a little better about this one, I take it off the shelf and open the dusty cover amiably. Inside are various pictures of baby Rowan. They're all so adorable. I admire them for a moment, before closing the binder and lifting it up to replace it again.

Something falls out of it before it touches the shelf. A folded piece of paper lands on the ground next to my feet. I curiously place the binder back and then pick up the paper. It doesn't look like scrap paper; it's made out of pretty sturdy cardstock-like material.

I start unfolding the piece of paper, when I hear the front door swing open. Rowan must be back. I hastily glance down at the words lining the top of the crumpled paper. Certificate of Birth. But why is it folded?

Pushing Rowan's entrance into the house to the back of my mind, I keep reading.

This certifies that Rowan White –

Rowan White? I blink at the name. Well, he did say that his mother changed their names back to her maiden name before she had left the house. But then, his father must be ...

My heartbeat nearly doubles when I take another look at his last name. White. Rowan White. But that's a fairly common last name. It couldn't be who I think it is.

– was born to Andrea and Kane White –

The door to the study bursts open, and Rowan stands breathlessly at the entrance, staring at me. My hands immediately drop the piece of paper. A second later, Kai runs up to Rowan and stares over his shoulder at me.

My mind is absolutely numb. Rowan Hawthorne is actually Rowan White – the son of the man who killed my parents.

And I was in love with him.

"Anna," Kai says, breaking the silence. "Anna, you should come out of this room right now."

I don't even comprehend his words. I just stare at Rowan with a dulled expression on my face for a while, neither of us saying anything. So, all this time that I thought I finally knew who he was ... everything else was just half of him. But he was always Rowan White – not Rowan Hawthorne.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I finally manage to choke out. I can't tell if my vision is just starting to get foggy, or if I'm tearing up from my newfound realization.

"I couldn't," is all he says.

He's not going to deny it. Of course not; I found out about it myself. At the same time, I just want him to do so. To say that it's not true, and that everything is a complete misunderstanding, and that I'm misinterpreting the situation again. Just tell me it's not true.

"I'll be outside in the car," Kai says, turning away from the room. He has the biggest opportunity to tell me "I told you so" right now. He told me that I'd get hurt. He knew this all along. And yet, I'd had no idea. The two people whom I trusted the most in the world had kept this secret away from me.

But if they had told me ... what would have happened? Would I have believed them? Would I have felt this same way? Or would I have brushed it aside, saying that the past is in the past, like I tried to do with myself?

All I know is that, right now, I feel as though the whole world just collapsed underneath my feet.

"I'm sorry," Rowan finally says. "I thought that I would have the courage to eventually say something to you. But the more I found myself falling, the more I realized that I couldn't do it."

I'm reminded of my situation with Valentine. For a moment, I consider to myself that it simply wouldn't be fair of me to be hurt by something that I'd done myself. I open my mouth to say something like "I forgive you" or "I'll forget about it, eventually." But the words don't come out. Instead, an image of the man flashes in my head and I have to squeeze my eyes shut to make it disappear. That's when I realize that the blurriness in my gaze had been tears. They roll silently down the side of my face as I look on at Rowan. Now that I know, I can finally see some resemblance between him and the man on the television screen. They both have green eyes. They share the same, tall height. The more I look at him now, the less he starts to look like his mother, and the more I see Kane White.

"No," I whisper to myself. "Don't do that, Anna."

"Anna," Rowan says to me, still locked in place in front of the door. "Let's talk about this."

I quickly wipe the tears off my face and blink several times to regain my composure. "Sorry," I say hurriedly, heading for the exit. "I need to go."

Rowan's hand grabs my wrist as I head out the door, and I flinch at his touch. He notices this, and immediately lets go of me. "Anna, I told you everything about me except for this. I just didn't know how to say it. I was afraid that I wouldn't be by your side anymore."

I let my hair fall over the side of my face to block my vision. I'm afraid that if I look at him, I'll lose my mind. "Either way," I say quietly, "I don't know you anymore, do I?"

"Anna," he pleads. "I'm still the same person. He's not my father anymore. In fact, he never was. So, please." The pain in his voice sends a rush of guilt into my heart. A moment later, I feel arms wrap around me from behind. "Please don't walk out of here like that."

My arms reach up towards his instinctively, but I just remove his grip from my shoulders.

And I ignore everything else as I head out of the house, closing the door firmly behind me.