Thanksgiving is a time for sharing.

What better thing to do with the people you love? Sharing in the joys of the year, the feeling of being surrounded by family and friends...that is, if it's something you possess.

For me, I have none of that.

I started out with family, started out with friends...but now, on this day of celebration, I feel nothing but alone. Nothing but emptiness.

And so I say goodbye.

If anyone cares...I'm sorry.

The man stops scribbling the note on the piece of parchment. He sets down his pen and reaches for the gun on the edge of the desk, feeling the cold steel freeze his warm palms.

He aims the gun at his forehead, index finger firmly on the trigger.

"Here goes nothing..."

HANLEY HOME

Leslie Hanley furiously beats cake batter by hand as she paces back and forth in the kitchen. Her children, Vincent and Akilah sit at the table, working on their on projects. Every so often, her husband Michael enters the kitchen and is met with the dirtiest of glares.

"What did I do?!" Michael asks finally, stopping in his tracks.

"This Thanksgiving is going to be awful, and it's entirely your fault," Leslie says.

"My fault?"

"Thanksgiving is about family. Not...the people on the guest list. That Denise woman? It's bad enough trying to get Sean adjusted during Thanksgiving, but I certainly don't want to deal with that crazy snake wrangling bitch!" Leslie snaps. "Do you know that she accused me of sending her that snake?"

"Leslie, try to calm down —"

"Oh, I'm not even done. What about Felicia and her wife-beating son? I swear, Simon and Darren are the only people in that family that I can stand."

"Felicia is our family," Michael insists. "She's my sister. And frankly, she's your ex-sister-in-law."

"Current," Leslie says. "I'm still married to Sean."

Michael resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Be that as it may. Thanksgiving will be just fine."

"While we're talking about people who shouldn't be on the guest list, why the hell is Blake here?" Vince interjects.

"Because he's your best friend?" Akilah says. "And he's dating Eric?"

"I just think there are too many people here in this house. You don't get that mansion feel when it's overflowing with all these damn people. And shouldn't he be with the Andersons? They don't have anyone else to spend time with."

"He said they're in Atlanta."

"Why have you been talking to him?"

Akilah narrows her eyes at her brother. "What in the hell is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with you?" Vince snaps. "You're the one who was the vampire bride this summer! And he all but stole your part on The Blackthornes!"

"I got something better!"

"Oh what, producer's assistant? Big whoop!"

"Stop arguing you two," Leslie says. "You're giving me a headache."

Michael nods, joining the kids at the table. "Your mother is right. Let's just finishing doing this menial labor that could have been finished already if we'd allowed the staff to do their jobs."

"I heard that," Leslie mutters.

Before Michael can formulate an exasperated response, Blake Thomas hurries into the kitchen, wearing his jacket. Everyone looks at him in surprise.

"Blake, what's wrong?" Leslie asks.

"I...I have to go," Blake says. "I'm sorry. But I need to talk to Vince first."

"I'm busy," Vince says, glaring at Blake.

"It's important."

"You can send me a text message."

Blake throws his hands up in the air, clearly fed up with Vince, but upset from something else entirely. "Whatever. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone else."

Blake storms out of the kitchen.



MINUTES EARLIER

Blake emerges from the bathroom in Eric Hanley's room, drying his hair with a towel. He goes toward the bed where he's laid out his clothes and begins to get dressed. As he dresses, he accidentally knocks his socks off the bed, causing them to roll toward the television set.

Blake goes to the socks and picks them up, noticing the cabinet below the television is slightly ajar. His curiosity getting the better of him, he opens the cabinet to judge his boyfriend's film collection.

Or, more probably, Eric's porn collection.

Instead, Blake finds a large stack of DVDs with dates and times written on them. "Huh?"

He turns on the television, ready to put one of the DVDs in, but he is instead shocked to find someone familiar on the television set. It's Vince. Or rather, a recording of Vince lying in his bed.

"What in the hell?"

When he sees Vince's hands go beneath his bed covers in order to pleasure himself, Blake cries out in horror and stumbles back, nearly falling over.

"Blake!"

Blake spins around to find Eric standing in the doorway.

"Eric...what the hell is this?"

"I can explain," Eric says, hurrying to shut the television off. "It's not what you think."

"Really? Because it kinda looks like you've been recording Vince in his bedroom! For God knows how long!"

"Look, just sit down and we can —"

"Get away from me!" Blake cries. "You're disgusting, Eric! I should have listened to Vince when he told me what a fucking creep you were, but I just...I thought he was acting jealous."

"Because he's gay?"

"Vince isn't gay," Blake snaps.

"I've seen him jerking off to gay porn in his room," Eric insists.

"This is sick! I have to...I have to get the hell out of here."

Blake tries to leave, but Eric violently grabs his arm. "Where are you going to go? The Andersons are gone! Your brother is dead and so is your ex-boyfriend. You and Vince are on the outs. You don't have anybody but me! You'd have probably killed yourself if it weren't for —"

Blake punches Eric in the face, then recoils his hand in pain. "You're fucking insane!"

He rushes out of the bedroom, leaving Eric alone, glaring at the television set.



THE PRESENT

Aaron Maddock carries a pot roast in his hands as he approaches the front door to the Hanley mansion, Felicia trailing behind him. "Thanks again for inviting me, Felicia. Are you sure Michael won't mind?"

"No, of course not," Felicia insists. "The more the merrier."

"I'm just glad I won't have to be alone," Aaron says. "Thinking about Melissa."

"Don't worry about it," Simon Holden says, coming up behind them. "You can never impose on the Hanleys as much as they've imposed on everyone else in town."

"Simon, not today," Felicia says. "Don't get into an argument with Michael."

"Fine. I'll only talk you then."

Felicia smiles. "Thank you. Does Darren need any help?"

"No, I'm good!" Darren shouts from the car. "Just make sure someone holds the door for me."

Almost in response to Darren's comment, the front door flies open as Eric bounds out the house.

"Did you all see Blake?" Eric asks.

"No, we haven't," Aaron says. "Why?"

"He's...it's not important," Eric says. "Then he has to still..."

"I was just leaving," Blake says, breezing past Eric. He ignores everyone else as he goes toward the end of the driveway, tears in his eyes.

"Blake!"

"Leave me alone, Eric," Blake snaps.

"Let's get inside," Simon whispers to Felicia and Aaron.

Felicia nods, following Simon. Aaron remains, glaring at Eric, then turning his gaze to Darren as he stops Blake from running past him.

"Blake, what's wrong?" Darren demands.

"I need to get out of here," Blake says. "Can you...can you take me somewhere?"

Darren nods. "Of course. Where?"

"Anywhere but here."



HOURS EARLIER

Aaron closes the door to his office, moving toward the couch where Alec Bale lies in distress. Alec glances up at Aaron. "Thanks for seeing me, Dr. Maddock. I started having these awful nightmares last night. I think they were about my dad."

"It's not a problem," Aaron says. "I'm just sorry that you're having these nightmares on Thanksgiving of all days."

Alec sighs. "Don't I know it. But I think I have a solution."

Aaron raises an eyebrow, leaning forward. "Yes?"

"Put me under."

"Alec, no. There's...there's no way."

"But I don't remember anything! Why the hell can't I remember anything about Robert molesting me?" Alec says. "My murder trial is coming up, and unless I find some way to prove that I was under stress from remembering what my Dad did to me, I'm going up the river. And you know what, maybe I deserve it. For what I did to your cousin."

"You don't deserve to locked away, Alec," Aaron says softly. "You're not a monster. Your father is. And the jury will understand..."

"But I need to understand!" Alec cries. "So make it happen!"

"I'm sorry, but the last time...I have no idea what would happen if I brought you out from under," Aaron says. "I'm sorry."

"You should be!" Alec shouts, rising up from the couch. "Fuck you, Aaron. I hope you rot in hell like your slut of a cousin."



THE PRESENT

Kyle Maddock acknowledges Darren and Eric with a nod as he climbs out of his car and walks up the driveway. He smiles at Aaron, embracing him. "Hey cousin."

"Hey...hey Kyle," Aaron says, still unsure how to react to conversations with his recently returned cousin. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"It's definitely going to be that," Kyle agrees. "But let's get inside! It's freezing out here."

"Yes, of course," Aaron agrees.

Aaron goes to the door and opens it, allowing Kyle to enter first. But Kyle's smile quickly fades when he hears the argument occurring in the living room. He immediately recognizes the voices as belonging to his son, Matt, and the Simon, the man masquerading as his son's father.

"There's no fucking way I'm spending Thanksgiving with that freak!" Matt shouts. "First he goes around town without telling anyone he's alive, and then he just fucking shows up and expects us all to care?"

"He's your father," Simon says. "You should try and get to know him."

"I already have a father," Matt insists. "I have you! Not the sick bastard that had sex with his own sister."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Kyle says, entering the living room. "I'll just leave then."

"Good," Matt says, not bothering to look at Kyle.

Simon takes Matt's arm and glares at him. "Matthew, apologize to —"

Matt pulls his arm away and stalks over to Kyle, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You are not my father."



ONE HOUR EARLIER

"Someone help me!" Kyle knocks on the door to Rebecca Li's motel room and waits patiently, holding a pan with a large, cooked turkey in his arms. When the door opens, he barges inside and sets the turkey down on the edge of the bed.

"Happy Thanksgiving," Kyle says. "Where's your son?"

"He's at work," Rebecca says.

"Oh?" Kyle says. "Good for him. Getting a honest day's work in."

Rebecca rolls her eyes. "I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about that."

"Must we be hostile today?"

"I'm not being hostile," Rebecca snaps, clearly lying. "Now, if you're done delivering your blackmail turkey, you can leave and rest assured that I'm going to keep your little secret."

Kyle laughs. "My secret? You're the one who committed murder."

Rebecca tenses up, moving away from Kyle. "Let's not talk about that."

"No," Kyle insists. "You're the one who wants to keep throwing my secrets in my face. What about yours? You drunk bitch. Let's talk about the man you killed in Jersey. All because you had to get behind the wheel of your car drunk!"

"Stop it," Rebecca says. "Stop bringing that up!"

"You're lucky that all I'm asking you to do is cozy up to Aaron Maddock! I have the surveillance tape, Rebecca. I could have your ass locked up and fried on the electric chair!"

"You know, I own you just as much as you own me," Rebecca says, narrowing her eyes at Kyle. "I can't exactly be arrested for a crime if there was never a body!"

"I'm leaving."

"Oh, that's right," Rebecca says. "Run away, Kyle Maddock. Except we both know that the man I hit and killed was Kyle Maddock. And if he's dead, how exactly is he standing in front of me?"

Kyle flies into a rage, punching Rebecca in the face and sending her crashing into the dresser. She cries out in pain, sliding onto the floor in tears.

"You killed my husband, you bitch!" Kyle snarls. "You killed Elan! You didn't kill me, you understand? You killed my lover and you're never going to be free from me until you've done everything I've asked of you!"

"Okay!" Rebecca cries. "I'm sorry!"

"Sorry, who?"

"Sorry...Kyle."



THE PRESENT

You spend your entire life in search of some type of magic bullet, something that will fixing all of your problems in one single shot...

Eric slowly descends the steps, finding Aaron sitting alone in the living room. He approaches him, allowing the frown on his face to turn into a smile. "Looks like we have a problem."

"One that's all your doing," Aaron snaps. "You were supposed to be keeping Blake and Darren apart, and all you've succeeded in doing now is putting them back together."

"Don't worry, baby," Eric says, sitting on Aaron's lap and playfully kissing him. "I've always got a plan."

Aaron shoves Eric off him. "Oh, really?"

Eric reaches into his sweater's pocket and removes a DVD, waving it in Aaron's face. "I do. And it's right here."



Whereas some people sink to the lowest depths and find that an actual bullet is the only way to take care of all their problems...

"Kyle, are you in the bathroom?"

"I'll be out in a moment," Kyle says, calling out whomever is on the other side of the door.

He keeps the water running in the sink as he slides a gun from his waistband, aiming it at his reflection in the mirror and smiling.

"You do only have one father, Matt. And when this day is over, that father will be me."



But you shouldn't feel sorry for the ones who use the bullet to fix everyone else's problems.

Some call suicide selfish. But I'd like to think of it as the ultimate gift to the people whose lives I've made miserable for the past year. But today? On Thanksgiving of all days?

Thanksgiving is a time for sharing...

Billy stands amongst the row of shelves in the Marquette Cove Police Department's evidence room, gripping the plastic bag in his hand. He stares at the gun inside, allowing everything to sink in.

The same gun he used to murder Melissa Bale. That bitch who'd caused countless problems for his family. Sure, it was an accident. He'd actually meant to kill Robert.

But that didn't change anything. Not for him, at least. He picks up the suicide note on the end of the table and frowns. He snuck into the evidence room to keep himself out of jail, and Alec...Alec wants to go ahead and kill himself.

What a winy little bitch.



YEARS EARLIER

Rain pelts against the boy's bedroom window as he crawls into his bed. He hides his head underneath the covers and prays that the man who comes to his room every night isn't coming upstairs this time. But all of his praying can't help him when he hears the doorknob turning.

"Please...please...don't hurt me."

The door creaks open slowly and the boy can see the angry man — Clyde — standing before him. Clyde slips into the room and closes the door, locking it.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Billy. It won't hurt."

"I don't want to be Billy tonight."

"You'll be Billy, and I'll be Clyde. Like always."



THE PRESENT

"You're pathetic, Alec. Do you know that?"

Billy rips the suicide note into pieces.

"Help me, I can't remember! Of course you don't remember. They're not your memories to remember. They're mine."

He takes the pieces of the notes and discards them in a wastepaper bin, then he shoves the gun into the back of his waistband and goes to the door.

"If you didn't even have the guts to kill Robert, then how the hell are you going to kill Clyde you little fag?" Billy says aloud, even knowing that Alec can't hear him. "But don't worry. I'm going to kill the only person that knows about me. The person who created me. The person who's tried keeping me locked away in your mind like some fucking caged dog."

Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But someday soon, Billy knows he is going to kill Clyde. And when he does, he'll break Alec's silence and call the bastard by his real name.

Aaron Maddock.

He's interrupted as Alec's cell phone rings. He answers it, putting a smile on his face. "Hey Mom. I'm on my way to Michael's right now...I wouldn't miss Thanksgiving for the world…and by the way, is Aaron going to be there? Oh! He is? Great."

Maybe today will work out just fine.