The Burning of the Palace at Versailles (or, Butterfly) [REWRITING]

Chapter 15 - The Shadow Given Face

It was something Melody never admitted. She kept it buried deep within a small pocket of her heart, where even she would not be able to easily find it. But the truth was there, and the truth was that she had wanted to kill the man who killed her father.

Melody knew she looked insane when she walked into the police station. Her mother had screamed when she had seen Melody that morning. The poor woman had chased after Melody with a towel, trying to remove the layers upon layers of makeup. But Melody wanted to keep it. She was reminded of something she had once heard. After the assassination of her husband, Jackie Kennedy refused to take off the blood-splattered pink Chanel suit she was wearing. She said, "I want them to see what they have done to Jack." Melody was no Jackie Kennedy, and what remained of her father's blood had been cleaned off the dirty ground. But she could show what had been taken from her on her face.

The drive to the station had taken over an hour. She probably could have gotten there in less time than that, but she had wanted to take her time.

As she drove, she thought about what she would be doing if her father wasn't dead. Working on her final paper, definitely. Classes, too. A Shakespeare class, a workshop writing class, a course about the ethics of journalism, and a political science class. She had pushed all of the required literature classes until her last year, but she couldn't remember why.

Melody also drove slowly because she needed to plan.

The problem with deciding you wanted to kill someone was you had to figure out how you were going to kill them. The guy was in a holding cell. He would probably get sent to prison, and Melody couldn't touch him there. Maybe she could get him when she was talking to him. That was ridiculous, of course. She would be at a police station. Surrounded by cops, the people who arrested people who killed others. But then again, who knows? The police at the gas station had seemed nice to her. They probably didn't carry any love for the guy they had locked up. Maybe they would give her five minutes alone with the guy, no cameras or security guards. But then what would she do?

What was she going to do, anyway?

Melody decided she would decide what she was going to do when she saw the man. She assumed the man was scrawny and unhealthy. He wasn't the first drug addict Melody had ever seen. Young teen addicts had often shown up in group therapy, sent in by wealthy parents and shrinks. Some part of Melody had always been angry at them. Most of them had chosen their vice. They had chosen to take those drugs for the momentary high. They probably only meant to try it once. Or a few times at parties. Or they just wanted to do it every once in a while, like the Hollywood stars. They didn't mean to become addicted, so Melody tried to not hate them. But they had started their dangerous path downwards. Meanwhile, Melody had a chemical imbalance in her brain, courtesy of bad fucking luck. All the addicts had been skinny and their hands never stopped twitching. Sometimes, Melody would pretend they were scrawny, underfed street cats. So, if the man who killed her father resembled one of those feral cats, then he did not pose a threat to Melody without a gun. But there was always a chance the man wouldn't be a scrawny, skin-and-bones addict. If he was big and strong, Melody would have to rethink her tactic. Then again, she didn't have a tactic to rethink.

For some unfathomable reason, Melody had a feeling she would never reach the station. She imagined a large semi truck crashing into her convertible. Or, the man looking at his phone two lanes away would lose control of his car, and crash into the vehicle next to his, and then Melody would spin out and hit the barrier. Or a tire would blow and go through her windshield, or the engine would explode, or her brakes would stop working and she would hit the car in front of her. But even though Melody imagined so many ways she could die before she got there, Melody made it to the police station, alive and well.