She likes to go to the beach. The beach always reminds her of Nan. Her apple pie, her smile, her old fashioned apron. It always feels bittersweet, to remember Nan.

10 years ago, when Saskia arrived on that beach, she thougt it was the end of her journey. She had never seen the ocean, and she thought it would be a nice place to put the final point to her story. She still had a few bullets in her gun and she was tired of running. She had just turned 16 but she felt like an old, very old woman. She sat on the cold sand, it was the end of October, and she closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the waves, and the wind, trying to catch the perfect moment to shut down her life for good. She thought about her mother.

She died when she was only ten years old, and her features were blurry in her memory. Her name was Ellen, and she was always scared. Ellen ran away from Europe – which country, she never said, it was the country of "back then" – pregnant with Saskia. Running away from what ? « A very bad man ». Who was the man ? « Someone who wants to hurt us, someone who wants to find you ». Why ? « Because you're special ». Saskia always thought her mom was slightly deranged. Especially when she reached 8 years old and her mom said she had found a way to protect her forever from the bad man. She had to write something on her skin, but she would make it pretty. She didn't say it would hurt like hell and that it would take months to cover her back with runes and strange scribbles. Ellen made it look like a cherry tree branch, with pink blossoms. It was indeed pretty. But she couldn't forget all those nights spent crying with Ellen repeating it's for your own good.

The night Ellen died, when everything caugh on fire, Saskia began to consider maybe her mother was right. Maybe something was after them, but not after her. Or maybe, as Logan said "your stupid mother fell asleep with a cigarette".

All the bad things happened after that. And then she ran away, arrived on that beach and heard "What are you doing here all alone sweetheart?". An sweet, elderly voice. It was how she met Nan. Nan invited her in her house, to drink a hot cup of cocoa, "just a few minutes". And then it was, "you can use the bathroom if you want" and then, "maybe you should sleep here just for tonight", and then "if you have nowhere to go maybe you should stay here with me". And then she had a home for the first time.

Nan never asked any question about the weird book, the hunting knife and the gun in her backpack. She never asked about the tattoo. She never said anything about the 5 or 6 fake Ids she was carrying, and never asked if Saskia Jager was her real name. She didn't even know that herself.

Nan never questioned her choice when she decided to be home-schooled. She never called the social services. It was a small community, and Saskia had been introduced as old Nan niece, and as everybody loved old Nan, nobody said otherwise.

Well there was that one time, when the doctor said her tattoo seemed old, that she had old scars, cigarette burns and fractures all over her body, things got tense. Nan managed to make up a story, but was troubled for days. She asked Saskia what happened to her, and she had to lie about it. That's when she invented the Lie. The Lie was she ran away from an abusive foster family, and that she didn't want at any cost to go back in the system. She felt bad about lying to Nan, but how could she had crushed her world?

She was such a sweet person. Saskia had always wondered why she had no family, except that brother she hadn't seen in years. But she wasn't the kind to ask questions about people's private lives. If Nan hadn't any husband or kids, it wasn't her business. She was a damn good grandma, and that was what was important.

Saskia is burying her feet in the sand, thinking about all the good times they had. When she started helping Nan at the antique shop, "Nan's treasures". how she loved every object, because it felt like everyone had kind of a little soul. She was running it on her own now, and after 3 years it still felt lonely. When Nan died in her sleep, Saskia was 23 years old and her world was shattered again. Even if she found out Nan left her the shop and her house, she felt insecure, helpless and terrified about the future. The day of the funeral, a lot of people came to the house, bringing her food, telling her stories about Nan, how nice she was, how appreciated she was. To Saskia, who almost hadn't talk to anyone except Nan in 7 years, the kindness of those strangers felt nice, and weird. From that day on she decided she would be a real member of the community and forgot about her plans to sell everything and run away.

She even met a boy, from an old family of fishermen. Michael Dervaux was the typical popular smalltown boy. He thought she was kind and pretty. She told him the Lie. And within 6 months they were engaged. Being with Michael made her feel normal, being with Michael made her almost popular. Suddenly there were more people at the shop, people were visiting her, inviting her. People thought they made a cute couple. She knew people were a little bit pitying her. Even Michael. He had that painful expression when she told him the Lie, that was yet way less shocking that the truth. But thinking that, that "poor Saskia" had had to lie until she was 21 to escape the system which put her in an abusive family was enough for the sheltered people of North Kingston.

What would they have thought if they knew Saskia's mother was a powerful witch, that Saskia could kill demons just by wishing it, and that the abusive family she ran away from was a group of supernatural creatures hunters?

What would Michael think?

The wedding is in 3 months, and Saskia feels more and more anxious about the Lie. What is she going to tell her children when they're scare of something in their closet? Grab a shotgun and pour salt around your bed?

And what if she gets angry and the Thing happens again?

What if the Bad Man was real?

What if?

For now she can just lie on Point Judith's beach and try to empty her head, listening to the sound of the waves.