Page 53 of Psycho Boys

10. City Councilman Marcus Rutherford

11. Judge Hayden Wilson

12. Brockton Chief of Police Robert Bailey

13. City Councilman Mr. Josè Brown

TWENTY-ONE

VOICES

HOLD ON: GOOD CHARLOTTE

CALISTA

The silence in my head has been unsettling, a strange mixture of relief and unease. It's a consequence of ignoring the voices for so long, prioritizing Addy above all else, even though she doesn't deserve it. The constant internal clamor that once made concentration impossible has faded... maybe a little too much.

Addy appears and disappears when she wants. Most of the time, she's physically present, but when I truly need her, she's nowhere to be fucking found. At times I long for her absence, yet the thought of losing her fucking terrifies me. She's been with me since the beginning, a creation of my imagination, a refuge from the daily trauma I endured. We were both chained in that attic, but she retained a freedom I lacked. She chose to stay, while I never had a fucking choice in the matter.

She was my confidante, my only friend, even when I pushed her away. She reminded me to take my medication, urging me to increase the dosage during difficult times. She'd scold mefor cutting myself when I was having a bad day. Yet, she also handed me the blade at times, always telling me where to cut so I wouldn't accidentally kill myself, because that's not why I self-harmed. I did it because it made me feel alive in a world full of darkness and despair.

Her actions were paradoxical, both logical and utter nonsense. It was a twisted kind of sense. Fucked up, I know.

Addy was my light in the darkness that was trying to swallow me whole. But sometimes she'd plunge me right into it instead of pulling me out. She persuaded me to end my life more than once, but she also talked me out of it. She was my savior when I was spiraling down a path of self-destruction, even when I didn't want to be saved. She cared about me more than I cared about myself, but at the same time, she pushed me to the edge, forcing me to take risks I shouldn't have taken, like she didn't care about me or what might happen to me.

I confided in her, admitting my deepest fears and secrets, but she already knew them; she was a part of me. I had created her, built her into something far greater than what she was ever meant to fucking be.

But she wasn't real, a truth I constantly had to reaffirm, even now, especially when the guys witnessed me having conversations with myself. They couldn't see her, but I could. They know about Addy, yet they don't judge my crazy. They accept me, but even I recognize the need to let her go.

In the bleak solitude of those dark days, she was my unwavering support, my only listener, my only constant. She never left, never betrayed me. And that's why the prospect of ending her existence—of silencing her—feels so fucking agonizing, even though it might be necessary for a normal life once this bullshit is over.

"Stop thinking about me," Addy whispers, materializing beside me as I lean over the balcony, chain-smoking.

"I'm not," I lie, noticing the colorful array of pills on the railing near my elbow.

My throat constricts, my pulse races, and my heart pounds. I haven't been taking my medication lately. I've felt better than ever, so I rationalized skipping them. But deep down, I know this complacency is a dangerous game. I'm supposed to take them daily, but I hate them. Some leave me feeling good, others sluggish and despondent, even more depressed than before.

"If you want to get better, Cali, take your meds," she snaps, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

A flicker of something secretive shines in her exotic eyes—a hidden emotion I can't quite decipher. Before she launches into a lecture like my mother used to, I scoop the pills into my hand and pop them into my mouth like candy, washing them down with a minimal amount of saliva.

"Fucking happy now?" I scoff, studying her enigmatic expression.

"Very," she purrs, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. "So, how have you been feeling lately?"

I shrug. "Ready for this shit to be over. Is it bad that I just want to go kill Dom and Killian's fathers so we can just move onto mine?" I turn to her, asking selfishly.

"I get it. You want them gone because you want the pain to stop. You think that if they're no longer here, then living life will be much easier and you'll finally find the happiness you've been longing for your entire life. Right?" She lowers her voice to a soothing tone, a soft smile gracing her lips.

"Exactly," I admit, deep down knowing that it's not that easy.

"It's going to take more than just killing everyone who hurt you for you to be happy again, Cali." She looks at me, reading my mind, which pisses me off.

"It's not that simple, is it?" I mutter, staring out at the city lights blurring through the cigarette smoke.

The weight of her words settles heavily on my chest. She's right, of course. Killing Ash, Dom, and Killian's fathers wouldn't erase the past, and killing my parent's wouldn't magically heal the wounds that fester within me. It would just be another act of violence, another layer of darkness added to the already suffocating pile.

"No," I whisper, the word barely audible above the city's hum. "But it feels like the only way to... to stop the bleeding."

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