I Would Kill For You

38. The Rising Of The Moon

❝ as soon as healing takes place, go out and heal somebody else. ❞

maya angelou

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This chapter is dedicated to aestheticjailbait ! Thank you so much for your support c; Reading 37 chapters in one sitting is such dedication. 

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3 weeks later

Repeating and retelling what had happened to the police was like twisting a knife with my own hands into my heart. But I had no other choice. Once the shock wore off, I was questioned meticulously by detective Carter and Nichole, whilst two other officers monitored the interrogation and wrote down some of my words. At first, I couldn't even get to Joseph pointing the gun at me without bursting into tears, but as days passed, I developed some sort of immunity, and I was able to maintain a stiff upper lip throughout the whole interview, no matter how much it hurt.

Things were much more complicated than I'd expected. I was forbidden to leave the country and I had to get a criminal defence lawyer who could prove that I killed Joseph in self-defence, whilst the police struggled to garner enough evidence that tied him to Monica's and Ellie's murder. If they wouldn't succeed, the course of my life would change forever.

I'd have to spend a decade of my life in prison. Maybe more, maybe less. The mere thought made my stomach churn. I had a full-blown panic attack when detective Nichole told me, and after that incident, Damian and I were practically forced to go to a therapist, since we were both susceptible to stress-related disorders. I was reticent at first because I didn't find the prospect of opening up to a stranger appealing, but after waking up crying for six days in a row, after sleepless nights and depressive thoughts, I decided to give it a try. 

Today was going to be the fourth session with doctor Olivia, the same mental health professional that diagnosed Gabrielle's disorders.

If I was going to prison, at least I'd go with a healthy and happy mind, right? 

Such backhanded positivity.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Devon asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

He was driving me to my psychotherapist because my dad was busy with work. I pulled on the hem of my black skirt. Ever since I had killed Joseph, black was the only colour that I could wear. I supposed it represented the darkness I felt inside me, a darkness that drained any other colour in my life, that made me think, late at night, that maybe I deserve to go to prison. 

It also represented the constant state of mourning I was in. For Avery, Ellie, and Joseph. For me. Because it wasn't only them I'd lost. I had lost parts of myself too, parts I could never get back.

You have a good sense of self. You know who you are. I admire that.

Damian's words at the party echoed in the back of my head, and I wanted to laugh despondently at that. I had no idea who I was anymore. I wondered if he'd notice that, if he saw me now. We hadn't seen each other since his brother's demise. If I were him, I wouldn't want to see me either.

"It's nothing important. Did therapy really help you?" I diverted, because I'm just thinking about the boy I love and dreading the fact that he might not want to see me ever again was a little too much emotional baggage to drop on him.