[ The detonator is in her pocket. It's in her pocket and she doesn't know why—

No, she knows exactly why. She knows exactly why things have been feeling so strange for her, why everything's been disjointed and out of place. What did she do after she played with Missile? What has she done between breakfast and finding bodies? She can't remember. She can't remember and that only means one thing.

After Anise explodes into a million pieces just like the fireworks behind her, Clash has to run back to her room and hope that she can make it to the bathroom in time. She vomits up what little she's eaten and dry heaves for another five minutes until she knows she has nothing else in her.

Where does she go from here? Who is she doing this for and why? When she goes back, she won't be seen as someone special... she'll be seen as a monster. She'll be seen as someone who is ruthless and someone who doesn't care. All her life she's fought to be on top, to be someone who's adored like Pizzazz and lauded like the rest of the Misfits.

No, she can still have that. All of that, just as long as she's in control.

Once Clash calms down, she brushes her teeth to get the disgusting taste of vomit out of her mouth. It still lingers there and reminds her of how weak and feeble she is, how easy she's taken advantage of... but that's why she's killed these people. Isn't it?

She takes one good look in the mirror for what seems like minutes or hours... she's not sure, but she finally sees who she is now. Clash is not a mask — Constance is, the friend of a friend of Jem is, the reporter is — but Clash? No. She's a Misfit, born a Misfit and there's nothing here to convince her otherwise. ]

I'm sorry, Daddy... I'll miss you.

[ When she turns away, she pulls out a piece of paper and begins making the preparations for tomorrow. ]