sympathy

Chapter Nineteen

There are a lot more moments I could add to our story, but I can't bring myself to write about them.

        My letter to you is not going to be as long or as meaningful. I can't put myself through writing about each tiny moment that only made me fall in love with you more.

        I won't do that to you.

        Instead I'll talk about the trial.

        I got there before you. I was in handcuffs like you predicted. I had chains around my wrists and my feet. You walked in wearing a white button down with a pair nice skinny jeans. Your hair was shorter than before, hinting you got a haircut. You walked to your side without making eye contact with me. 

        After everything was done and prepared, you were called to the witness box to testify. That's when you made eye contact with me. Your eyes had a conflicting look. You weren't happy to see me, but you weren't upset either. You weren't scared or anything. You were just you.

        You spoke about how I scared you at first, your suicide attempt, everything else. You told them how you did see the beauty I wanted you to see. You told them everything. Then with the very last question, you shocked them.

"Mr. Davidson. Isn't it true that he planned on holding you there against your will for the rest of your life? That he was so psychotic he thought you would stay willingly?"

"No. That's not true."

        Your lawyer looked pissed. You were defending me in a way. 

"Let me rephrase the ques-"

"No. I said no. At first he did, but once he saw that he was hurting me by keeping me there, he made an agreement. He said after three months he would take me back unless I wanted to stay. And in all honesty I would have. I would have stayed. You will say it's just Stockholm syndrome but it truly isn't. I loved him long before this entire situation. And seeing who he truly was out there, and how much he cared for me.. I got those feelings back. Right now, I can say that I hate him for what he did to me. But I still love him more than anything. I want him punished, but I'll be there for him when he gets out. I have an understanding with him. I have sympathy for him. You can call me insane, but you weren't out there. You don't know him. You only know the monster you want him to be seen as."

        You shocked me too, George. I never expected that. I thought for sure you would have full on thrown me to the wolves.

        After the trial, the judge and jury both found me guilty. Eight years in prison.

        Before they took me away, you asked if we could talk in an empty interrogation room nearby. I don't know why, but they agreed. 

        We went into the room and sat in chairs on opposite sides of a table. Neither of us said a word for a long time. A really long time. 

"I don't blame you for what you did."

"George I-"

"Listen to me. I don't blame you. You were right to take me. The city was full of stress and lies and pressure. I actually loved it out there. If the accident wouldn't have happened I would've stayed. I would have Clay. And I hate myself so much for it. You did this to me."

"I know- and I'm sorr-"

        You were in tears, and couldn't look at me.

"Don't be. I would have stayed because I cared for you. I loved you."

"George, I-"

"I'm sorry I can't do this."

        You stood up and walked to the door. You opened it, and stopped in the doorway. I stood up, trying to stop you, but the handcuffs limited my movement.

"George, wait-"

        You turned around and stared at me. Tears were dripping down your face, off of your chin. You ran over to me and finally did it.

        You kissed me.

        Your hands moved around my neck and into my hair, which only deepened the kiss. Everything inside me melted. I was thinking about how I'd never been kissed like that. It was long awaited and all, but it wasn't how I imagined.

        It was a goodbye. 

        All of a sudden you pulled away and we were both breathing heavily. You stared at me as I raised my hands to wipe your tears. 

"It'll be okay, George. I'm going to be okay."

        You reached into your pocket and handed me the paper harshly. A printed letter you wrote me. I read it over and over in prison, it just too me all those years to write one back.

        You backed away, and looked at me before running out the door.

"Goodbye, Clay."

        And that was our last conversation. 

        That was our goodbye.

Total Word Count: 827