Fallen Raine {Completed}

Chapter Thirty - To Love Is To Destroy

Two weeks later, they let me out. My mother had to sign forms, and the press was outside, eager for a few shots of Mapleton’s only survivor of yet another horrendous massacre that had ruined the town after fifteen years of building up their defenses and returning to normal.

Apparently journalists were begging for interviews, and I’d even been invited onto some of the biggest talk shows in America who were curious about the events of the second Mapleton Massacre. They all wanted to spend some time with me and ask me some questions.

There was big fanfare when I was leaving the hospital. I almost expected trumpets to play, maybe a bugle, and some people dressed in matching waistcoats to announce my departure. I know I was a bit theatrical, but it wouldn’t have been too surprising judging by the amount of people waving and calling out questions. Journalists and cameramen bustled around for shots, and I ducked my head against the flashing bulbs.

I leant on a walking stick, and my frail mother held onto my arm tightly to make sure I didn’t injure myself, or something.

We walked past shooting cameras and into a black car that most definitely didn’t belong to us. It was sleek, with tinted windows, and I felt like one of those criminals you see on the news that has their head covered by a newspaper or a hoodie, being herded into a car and whisked away to a courtroom.

Except I was being hauled away to the comfort of my own home, which I hadn’t seen since that night when everything had happened.

I spent the next couple of weeks recuperating, trying to get my balance and avoid suspicion. Police questioned me more, and everyone was intrigued by the case of what had actually happened to the people trapped in the mall. Who was their killer, and how had it all happened? Police had spared people from the gruesome details, but some people had made up gruesome rumors about it; some worse than the actual deaths. It made me wish I’d been creative enough to come up with some of that stuff.

To this day, the police continue to search, but no one knows yet who really killed them, besides myself.

River’s funeral was in a couple days, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t plan on attending. But it wasn’t my idea; I’m not so masochistic and sadistic.

It was my mother’s idea.

She said I had missed every other funeral but River’s, and told me that I should attend to show my respect to the family and the inhabitants of Mapleton. Ultimately it was my choice, and I wouldn’t be judged if I didn’t attend, but I wanted to.

There was still that part of me that felt bad about killing River, and still that part of me that wanted to pay my proper respects to both him and his families. I knew I should be detached about this all, but River still had a family. I should at least meet them and see whose baby boy I had taken away.

I had briefly wondered if there had been people at Jason’s funeral that protested it, but apparently the police had kept it from the press release so that Jason could go the proper way. No one had to know that he might have killed Steve, and it gave the family peace of mind. They didn’t have to know that he was up for killing somebody, not until there was solid evidence.