Twenty-Three

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I found myself, along with Stiles, in Ms. Morrell's office. I hated shrinks, but everyone thought it would be a good idea to talk to her since the whole Psycho Master incident.

Ms. Morrell smiled softly at us. "I know you've been forced to come here, but due to the fact that we allowed you two to come at the same time, I'd appreciate it if one of you began talking."

My eyes met Stiles' for a second, and I looked away as I played with the end of my dress. I'd rather not talk first for fear of having a breakdown or worse, a panic attack. The nightmares and not being able to focus were bad enough. I looked in surprise at Stiles as he opened his mouth and spoke. He was focused on tightening the string of his lacrosse stick. "You know when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out. It's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. But then when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's--it's actually kind of peaceful."

Ms. Morrell's eyes bore into his. "Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments?"

I scoffed. "No way I could feel sorry for that psychopath."

Stiles took my hand as he shook his head a few times. "I don't feel sorry for him. We were held hostage and he pointed a gun at us. At all of us. I refuse to feel sorry for someone who threatens the lives of those closest to me. Especially one who held a gun to Ally most of the night. So no; I don't care if he felt peace or not."

Ms. Morrell threw another curveball. "Can you feel sorry for the nine-year-old Matt who drowned?"

I pursed my lips and glanced at Stiles to answer. He tended to be better with words. "Just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim doesn't really give him the right to go off killing them one by one. And by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of photos of Allison on Matt's computer. And not just of her, though. I mean, he photoshopped himself into these pictures. Stuff like them holding hands and kissing. You know, like he had built this whole fake relationship. So yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what sent him off the rails, but the dude was definitely riding the crazy train."

Ms. Morrell gave a small smile. "One positive thing came out of this, though. Right?"

I rubbed Stiles' arm as I leaned my head on his shoulder. "Your dad's the sheriff again."

Stiles nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, but I still feel like there's something wrong between us. I don't know. It's just like tension when we talk. Same thing with Scott."

I gave a light scoff. "You're telling me. My dad and Jackie were barely willing to let me come to school. They don't want me out of their sight."

Ms. Morrell looked between the two of us. "Have you talked to him since that night?"

Stiles shook his head. "No, not really. I mean, he's got his own problems to deal with though."

I crossed my legs on my chair as I finally spoke more than a sentence or two. "I don't think he's talked to Allison either. But, I'm guessing more of that is her choice. She took her mom's death pretty hard. But I suppose it brought her and her dad closer. And Jackson, well, Jackson hasn't been himself lately. The crazy thing is that currently, Lydia is the one who appears to be the most normal."

Ms. Morrell nodded and turned her attention back to my Stiles, who was concentrated on his lacrosse stick. "And what about you, Stiles? Feeling some anxiety about that championship game tomorrow night?"

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