Page 13 of Broken Skulls

For her.

I’m not sure if that makes it right, but I’d sacrifice anything for her. Protecting my daughter was the most important thing I’ve ever done. It was so obvious to me what I needed to do. And I did it.

My only regret in life was that I should have killed Dr. Williams sooner, then I wouldn’t have had to lie. I guess I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell anyone the truth.

And maybe I haven’t done everything right, because all I ever thought about was my baby girl.

“Why don’t you tell me what the reports don’t say?” JD asks, interrupting my racing thoughts.

“What?”

“Tell me what happened.”

“You already know.”

“Again, I know what’s on paper. It’s everyone else’s perception. You never made a statement. Not once.”

“No one asked.”

The stabbing pain in my chest makes me realize how much I haven’t let myself feel. Why didn’t anyone ask? But I know why. It’s because it was all there in black and white. Those few messages between Dr. Williams and me. The texts that only painted part of the picture. The ones that made me look like a monster.

Everyone has two assumptions about me, both leading to the same conclusion. One, that I was born evil. Two, that Dr. Williams made me evil. Number one evoking pure hatred of me, the other bringing what I like to call pity revulsion.

I get it, though. I hate it too. I hated the things he did. Him. I hated him.

“I’m asking.” JD’s calm voice entices me to confess.

The words are clawing at my insides. What would it be like to tell someone?

She’s safe.

But fear holds me back from telling him what really happened. So, I confess my most recent crime instead. “I killed a man, you know?”

He laughs. “We have something in common then.”

We’re both quiet.

“Are you scared of me now?” he asks.

For some reason this makes me laugh.

I laughed.

No.

Stop.

“Please stop,” I mumble from behind my hands. This isn’t happening.

“Stop what? Making you laugh?”

I sit back against the wall, staring into the nothingness. “I’m not scared you’re going to kill me, JD. I’m scared that you’re not.”

“It’s okay to not want to live right now.”

“What if I never want to live?”

“I have a friend who jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge,” he says, not answering my question.

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