Page 34 of Psycho Killers

I understand Killian’s desire for revenge; I get his need for closure and the freedom it would bring him, akin to what Dominic and Ash have embraced. But what about me? As selfish as it may sound, tonight was meant to be my night. My moment to strike—to cross a name off my list, not to relinquish that opportunity to Killian. Though I am truly happy for him, knowing he can finally begin shedding the shadows of his tumultuous past and live without fear or looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life.

“Smile, your resentment is showing,” Addy’s teasing voice breaks through, her presence materializing before me after weeks of absence.

I had convinced myself that she was gone—that I had discovered the secret to banishing her. I’ve been diligent with my medication, taking only the prescribed doses; I thought that would do the trick. Yet here she is, standing by the tiny bathroom window, peering out into the night. It finally fucking dawns on me that I haven’t figured anything out at fucking all.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Her voice is light, almost playfully mocking, as she turns her gaze to me, arms crossed and a quirked eyebrow. The shadows from the flickering candles dance across her features, giving her an ethereal quality that makes my heart race, but also fills me with dread.

"Addy," I manage to say, my voice hardly above a whisper, "I thought I was done with this shit."

She chuckles, a sound tinged with a strange mixture of sympathy and derision. "Done with what? The darkness? Me? You honestly believed you could escape it all?"

My eyes narrow as I soak deeper into the warmth of the tub, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily around me. Wouldn’t it be easier to just accept her? After all, she never left, not really. I had tried to shove her into the furthest crevice of my mind, banishing memories of our shared laughter, bright moments twisted now into specters of regret. But she represents a part of me—a raw truth I desperately want to deny.

"You're not real," I retort, pushing myself upright, the jets thumping against my skin with vigor, trying to drown out her presence. "You’re just in my head."

With a serene smile, she walks around the edge of the tub, her fingers lightly brushing over the cool tiles. "Does it matter? Who's to say what's real and what's not? The pain, the resentment—it all demands to be acknowledged, whether you want it or not. You’ve been denying it long enough."

I grit my teeth, the pressure of my thoughts swirling into a chaotic storm. Gunnar's face flashes in my mind again, tied and vulnerable. How could I grapple with him and what he represents when Addy is standing there reminding me of my fucking failures? I glance over the edge of the tub, taking a moment to observe the dim outline of items strewn carelessly in the small bathroom, a reflection of the disorder in my life.

"You're supposed to fucking help me! I need to be focused for this," I snap, trying to regain control, but my words sound hollow even to my own ears.

"Help you? Or hinder you?" She replies, tilting her head, studying me with those piercing eyes. "You want revenge, but what will it bring you? Trust me, I've seen this play out before. You think the list will provide closure, but I know it will just open the door to more suffering. What are you really after?"

“Closure. Liberation,” I whisper, but as the words leave my lips, doubt coils within me.

Is that the truth? Or is a part of me simply searching for an easy resolution to a lifetime of chaos? Addy leans closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“What if there's another way? What if you could use this moment, the joy of your friends, to reshape your future? You should be celebrating too, not enviously lurking in the shadows. Don’t you want to rise above this cycle? To heal?”

Her words strike a chord, stirring something long dormant inside me. The laughter from the living room swells, filling the silence around us. For a fleeting instant, I envision a life where pain doesn’t control my actions—an existence rooted in hope instead of revenge; the idea of forgiveness, not just for others but for myself. But just as swiftly, the doubt rebounds. I can't give up the hunt, can I?

"You're not going to magically change my fucking mind," I say with far less conviction than I feel.

"Maybe not," she concedes, a faint smile playing on her lips. "But perhaps this is the moment to choose what happens next. Will you drown in bitterness, or will you swim toward the light?"

I realize the choice is mine to make. The war rages on inside, a swarm of guilt, anger, and fear, but her presence brings clarity so desperately needed. I can feel warmth spreading from thesteadily diminishing hot water around me—a metaphor for what I yearn for but have been too afraid to reach out and grasp.

Maybe I don’t have to hate myself for wanting more than this twisted revenge narrative. I take a breath, visualizing the lightness behind the laughter from the living room as I feel my resolve shifting, ever so slightly, like the first starlight peeking through an overcast sky.

“Let’s see what it feels like to live instead,” I finally whisper, splashing water in her direction, the ripples distorting her image for a brief second.

Addy grins, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Now, that’s the spirit! Let’s walk that path together.”

And for the first time in a long while, I feel a flicker of hope igniting within me, flickering just as brightly as the candles surrounding us. The realization washes over me like the warm water enveloping my body. I’m standing at the precipice of a choice, one that could either anchor me in the heaviness of the past or allow me to float into a new realm of possibilities. I take another deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs, feeling my heartbeat steady against the weight of uncertainty.

“What do I do now?” I ask her, my voice shaking on the edges of vulnerability. “How do I just let it all go?”

Addy’s expression softens as she reaches out, her fingers trailing across the surface of the water, creating delicate ripples that spread outwards like the tendrils of thought awakening within me.

“You don’t have to let it all go at once. Transforming the shadows into something lighter is a gradual process. Start with small steps—a conversation, a gesture of kindness, a moment of gratitude. You’ve had your share of darkness. Now, welcome a little light.”

A wave of uncertainty crashes into my resolve as I think of the impending confrontation with Gunnar, the one I had nearlyconvinced myself I needed to face alone. The anger and betrayal dance dangerously close to the surface, but I can’t ignore what Addy is suggesting. Is there space for understanding? For forgiveness?

No. Fuck no, there isn't.

The laughter from the living room drifts into my thoughts again, beckoning me back. It’s a reminder that I’m not alone in this. I have a family, chosen and blood alike, who have fought their battles and are still standing strong. Perhaps they might not understand the turmoil inside me, but they certainly understand pain, and within their joy lies a blueprint for my own healing.

With determination flaring inside me, I rise from the tub, the water cascading off my skin and pooling at my feet, an unwanted reminder of what I’m about to leave behind.

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