I will survive

Chapter 22

The artworkshop was fun, and I'd really enjoyed myself. Cole hadn't been quite as interested by everything, and when he'd tried drawing… well, let's say I found the result very amusing. I'd hung his pictures up in his room.

After the workshop though, I'd had this urge to see my dad again and confront him about, well, everything. So I'd asked Cole to arrange a meeting in the prison with my dad. And right now I was walking towards the prison, my feet already starting to hurt slightly from the long walk. But I wanted to do this on my own, so walking it was.

The fresh air and repetitive, thoughtess motions of moving one foot in front of the other was lulling and slightly hypnotising. I might have put myself to sleep if it weren't for the constant flow of traffic next to me on the roads. This meant that I wasn't thinking about what I was about to do. In fact, I wasn't thinking at all, which was very relaxing.

But the prison was drawing nearer, and I knew this. Occasionally on this long walk, my thoughts, despite being slow and practically non-existent, would jump at this knowledge, causing my stomach and heart to lurch in unison. But then I would realise that I both wanted this and that the prison was still a while away.

A few roads and a million cars wizzing past later, and the prison loomed in front of me like a fortress which contained my greatest fears as well as my only hope of ever finding closure. I glanced down at my stomach which was starting to become noticably bigger. Only slightly, but it was clearly growing.

A few deep breaths was all I gave myself before forcing myself to enter the building.

I went through all the security before I was lead to a room where I could face my demon. I found him in that room, filled with chairs and table where normally other prisoners would recieve visitors from the outside world. He was alone. It was otherwise deserted of any signs of life, almost as if he'd scared them out of the room. He could scare me out of a room.

I clenched my shaking hands into fists and pressed them into my sides in a hope to conceal their involuntary movements.

My dad must have spotted them despite my attempts as he asked, "Are you nervous?" in the most partonising way imaginable. My blood boiled and my instincts told me to run. The conflict held me motionless until I decided to continue into the room and to sit down opposite my father.

"Not in the least," I replied calmly, remembering how I used to lie to Cathy in attempts to hide various injuries from her.

"No?" he asked, mildly surprised. "What do you want Mel?" he continued after a moment's pause.

I controlled my breathing and said, "I wanted to ask you something. And to tell you something."

He looked at me expectantly. I dared myself to meet his gaze, but instead of finding the monster I usually saw there, I saw something pathetic. This boosted my courage. "That night, when your friends had their way with me," I started, thinking carefully about my phrasing. "Do you remember?"

"Yes. It was a fun night. And I won some money gambling with them."

This was news. "You gambled. But you didn't have any money to gamble with," I pointed out, fully expecting him to say he's hidden some from me.

"I didn't need any money," he said and looked at me with those pitiful eyes. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. But I don't think that I could ever find it within me to feel sorry for him.

"What did - oh. You used me. If they won, then..."

He nodded and continued staring at me.

I moved on. "Why did you kill her?" I asked.

"I already told you. I didn't want to kill her, I wanted to kill you."

"But you didn't kill me. You killed her," I said detatchedly. I had expected to cry, but my emotions were now curiously out of reach.

He looked down, a trace of false guilt apparent in his features.

"What about everything else you did to us? To me?" I asked, not really caring what the answer was. Just wanting to get the question out of my system.

"I was angry," he tried. He eyes were darting from left to right like a trapped animal. I didn't know what he had to be afraid of though.

"About what?" I pressed on.

"Your mother, you. All of it."

Great. "Okay, whatever." He really did look pathetic. The monster in him had gone almost completely. He was nothing now. Not scary, not sad, not happy. Just nothing. Empty. There was nothing left for me here.

He glanced up at me and I stared at him, putting all of my past hate into the glare. But now, I couldn't hate him now for there was nothing left to hate about him. Only a memory of the evil he used to hold within him.

He couldn't hurt me anymore.

I pictured Cathy and imagined her here, in my shoes. What would she do?

I saw her stretch out her hand in a fast motion and I mirrored her, until  I felt my palm connect sharply with skin.

A couple of people came rushing into the room, but I was already getting up and walking towards the door.

The policemen were saying something to me. I heard them. I could hear them. But I wasn't listening to a word they said. I just left with an immense feeling of satisfaction growing inside my chest, speeding my heart into a euphoric pace.

"Thanks," I whispered.

I started walking in the direction of home and when the next cab drove past, I hailed it, climbed in, and was driven the rest of the way.  

 Later that night, lying in the circle of Cole's arms, a beautiful sense of being complete overcame me and I fell asleep feeling truly content for the first time in my life.