Making You See

Chapter Twelve

"It was me wasn't it?" Lucy asked, reluctantly coming to terms with her memories. The things she'd seen, the things she'd done, made her feel sick.

The jacket hadn't been planted on her. She wasn't being framed. It was her, only she didn't remember. She didn't remember much anymore. Half of her life was hidden, feeling fake and like it hadn't even happened.

She could see why they'd come to the conclusion that she had a split personality. It didn]t seem true though. She'd known and even been friends with people who had Split Personality disorder. It wasn't the same.

She was scared. She'd murdered someone, even worse; an innocent, sweet guy who was trying to help. He loved her, not like a sister or a family member, not like a best friend. He was the first person in her life, after the loss of her father, that cared, he cared enough to do something about it. Jon realised something was wrong and acted in the interest of of Lucy. She'd disregarded it all and acted unlawfully. She'd done something she could never take back, an act of violence, forever to be regretted and dwelled on.

She watched the man sitting opposite her in the dark, little room nod slowly. He looked like he, himself, didn't want to come to terms with what had happened either. It was harder for him. His own son, murdered. That had to be hard enough. Knowing it was one of his clients, someone he tried helping for ages, along side his son, was next to impossible to face.

His eyes showed her he knew. He knew more about it than anyone else. They were sad, the life looked drained out of him. One of the most important things in his life had been taken away. Despite this, he still continued to help Lucy, knowing what she'd done, even single second. He treated her no different, if anything he was nicer to her than usual. Using kindness to get to her and lead her to remembering and admitting. It worked. Mr Walters and Jon, together, succeeding in making her remember. They succeeding in gaining her guilt.

Lucy refused to accept it. She kept trying to push it out of her mind, from the instant she knew. If she'd managed to forget once, maybe she'd be able to forget again. The chances; they were slim, practically impossible. She'd began to come to terms with it, it couldn't be undone. Her memories were there and more than one person knew she remembered now. There was no reversing her actions; there was no forgetting.

Fury began to boil inside her, "You knew. You knew and you didn't think to tell me. It's one thing Jon not wanting to tell me, I guess I can understand that, but you? What's your excuse? Please, do tell me," she sneered, enraged by him keeping such an important part of her life away from her.

"I couldn't. Jon begged me. He begged me not to tell you, he said you had to find out yourself. You needed to remember, you alone. He was right," the shrink struggled to get the words out. They hurt him to repeat and tell her.

He watched his son begging her not to, telling her it'd be alright and he'd sort it.

His reassuring words were going straight through him, as if she couldn't hear him at all. She didn't respond. She just stared at his son, her back towards the shrink.

Careful to stay out of sight, he shuffled round, trying to get a better view of what was going on. From where he was stood, he couldn't understand why his son looked so terrified. They'd both known Lucy for years, she was harmless, disregarding the temper she sometimes had, often, it seemed, when someone got close to her, closer than she wished them to be. She felt vulnerable, like everyone was out to get her. When someone got close; she had to push them away from her, before they got so, close it was too late. It was vulnerability, caused by an unstable childhood. It was understandable, but it wasn't an excuse.

The fear was becoming more and more apparent on Jon's face and he realised what his fate would be. His eyes kept flickering from her hand to her eyes. She was holding something, something hidden from the back by her body.