Chapter 9: To live and let go

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'I couldn't be trusted to live and let go, shaken and tried, fade and resign as the tables turn'

'I couldn't be trusted to live and let go, shaken and tried, fade and resign as the tables turn'

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"You need to calm down if you want to get out of here."

"I'm completely aware of the circumstances, thank you very much," Vendetta yelled at his partner in crime as he paced in his cell.

"I'm just saying."

"Well don't speak."


"How is she?"

"According to Otis, still shaken up."

"But that whole brave girl act with the window?"

"Oh that was real, she's really pissed and shit. She's just not been able to do anything related to your case since. Otis says she's spent a lot of time sitting around staring into oblivion."

"Well, that's concerning."

"Mikale is freaking out. He thinks you broke the poor thing already." Terrence spun around and glared at the man he was speaking to.

"Broke her? What does he think I am?"

"You know what I mean. He's concerned about her well being. Unlike you, he has seen her when she's not in a professional workplace. He says she's a naturally quiet and shy kid who cares about the people around her and is obsessed with her work. However, since she has returned from the last session, she hasn't spoken to anyone."


"Yeah, man. She's dead pissed and scared out of her mind. Poor thing wasn't exactly in the best mental state, to begin with, and then this."

"I feel like such a bitch." Vendetta groaned, racking his hands through his hair quickly.

"Maybe if you want to win her over you should try being nice like you were when you talked about Othello, and when you connected with her during your 'q and a' days. She thrives off that because she's never had anyone to talk to or anyone who takes an interest in her and her alone."

"How do you know all this?"

"Otis and she are really close."

"I'm not exactly fond of that."

"He's gay you fucking idiot."

"Still." The criminal grumbled.

"You animal."


"Never mind, just, just know that after her mom died she buried herself in a little hole to cope with the pain. And she has never come out of that hole, she's only made it deeper. So when Otis came around and was there for her when she needed someone, she has learned to open up to him and trust him with her feelings. For someone who studies people and their mental health, her own mental health isn't exactly the greatest."

"How so?"

A folder containing a few photos was slid through the open doorway of the cell. Vendetta picked it up, leafing through the photos.

"These are hers?" Vendetta asked in shock, looking up at the man standing in the doorway.

"Yeah. Two different anxiety meds, one for panic attacks when they occur, and an antidepressant. I looked them all up, super top of the line, really strong usually only prescribed to people with extreme anxiety and depression."

"How long has she been on these?"

"Casper did some digging, health records date as far back as fifteen years ago."

"She was six?"

"As far as we know, that's how long she was on medication. Lord knows how long she had been suffering before that, or if she was in therapy. If she was it was privatized because there are no records on it, but someone gave her the prescription, and we can't seem to find a reco from a health care professional."

"Is this because of her mom?"

"I would assume that's a good chunk of it. Not to mention the bullying she faced growing up and even when she was in university. All that combined together would definitely hit a kid hard, especially when her mind was so advanced to start with. There's a direct link between mental health to social skills and intellect. Typically people with advanced intellectual talents struggle with the social factors of living. Not to mention she had to step up for her dad and then her mother died. She's been through hell and back, to say the least. I'm not surprised she's struggling with her own mental health after all she's endured."

"Did she tell the boys?"

"No! Of course not. She even hid the meds in a makeup bag that she kept in a bathroom drawer with her feminine hygiene products. The only reason Otis found them was because she left the bag on the countertop unzipped yesterday morning. He stepped in and saw them, took all the pictures and then left it there. Later that day he checked all the drawers once it was no longer on the counter and sure enough it was under a box of tampons." The partner chuckled, shaking his head slowly as he glanced at the control room for any signs of movement.

"She's smart I'll give her that." Vendetta sighed, sliding the folder back to the man who quickly picked them up and tucked them into his jacket.

"Damn right she is."

"When is our next session?"

"She was supposed to come into today actually. But Dolmen said she should take some time before she came in again so he gave her today and the next two days, and then she will have two sessions back to back and one less day between the start of the third week of sessions. She's really shaken up and Otis said he wasn't going to drag her out of the house even though he knew you made it an order. He's more concerned about her well being than your orders."

"Good man. I respect his decision to keep her safe and happy."

"So what's the next move?"

"Let the two back to back sessions happen without a single hitch. Calm, cool, and collected, get her trust in me back up. Then, we commence operation Bail Me Out."

"Sounds like a plan boss."

"Get the word out to the boys. Let them know the king is coming home. And he's bringing the queen."

"Will do Vendetta."

"Now get lost before Dolmen comes back and kills you."

"To live," The man rolled up his left sleeve, revealing the Elitist's tattoo.

"And let go." Vendetta nodded.

The door closed and the man rolled his sleeve back down, making his way to the camera station. He sat down and flipped all the cameras back on, and kicked his feet up.

"Hey, boss!" The man smiled slightly as he turned around in his swivel chair when he heard the elevator doors open.

"Hey, Brett! Is the bastard behaving?"

"Yep, all normal in the cage."

"Good, can't have that scum running loose now can we?"

"No, sir. We most certainly cannot have that."

"That's fucking right kid. Go take a lunch break. I got it covered."

"Thanks, boss."

And the man walked out, a smirk pulling up his face as he made his way out of the prison, sticking a cigarette between his lips.

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