The Prisoner Project

FOURTY

Or so I had thought.

"I didn't believe the self-defence bullshit but I didn't want to tie myself to the case." Mirabel bluntly stated. "With nothing to hold onto and nowhere to go, I was left alone in a vicious circle of rage and hatred. I was forced to contend with the consequences of my actions. Day after day of running around helplessly, trying to put an end to my grief, trying to find closure, made me finally understand just how deep the rot was in my heart. I was hopeless."

She might as well have been speaking to a brick wall. I felt nothing for her. In fact, her pain had begun to sate me. I wanted her to hurt.

"I decided to kill myself. I tied the noose to the chandelier and teetered on the edge of my coffee table. You know what I said? I said — Tell you what, God, I'll give you until the end of my cigarette to show me a sign that you care. One day, you're going to take me anyway. I'm giving you a chance to show why I'm loved enough to delay the inevitable." She flicked away a tear. "I lit the cigarette, my hopes dashed. I told myself I didn't want a sign." Her laugh was humourless. She stared into nothingness, as though feeling her emotions as vividly as she did on the day. "I really did want a sign."

Hank cleared his throat. I noticed the discomfort in his eyes. As though the story was affecting him too. Vaguely, I wondered why.

"Almost immediately, there was a knock on my door and Fuck, I just dropped to the floor and sobbed. It was my sign. When I got to the door, there was a junior policeman handing out adverts for a beta Prisoner Project. He took one look at me, handed me the flier and sat down with me while I applied for it. He knew I needed this. To him, I needed the money and the escape. To me, I needed to find someone with less of a reason to live than I."

I gasped, realisation dawning on me. "The junior policeman." I glanced at Hank. His face remained stoic, unmoving from Mirabel. "Was that you?"

"I believe it was."

I felt a little sick realising that he had been playing a role all this while. He knew everything, and willfully watched me succumb to her manipulation. No wonder he hated me. I finally understood it.

In his eyes, I could see that the woman before us had consumed him completely. Was he in love with her? Had she transferred her pain to him? I would never know.

Mirabel continued. "Hank and I sort of clicked. He helped me get into the project and without asking, he assigned me to the most depraved man in the prison."

"Banshee." My voice was breathless.

Her eyes flashed, momentarily revealing the way Banshee affected her too. For a split second, I could see what Banshee had meant when he said he had never seen anyone with desperation like hers. I could understand why he had been so fascinated by her taste for vengeance.

She was a terribly disturbed woman.

Just like him.

"He helped me realise a lot of things. It was because of him that I knew what I wanted to do."

I looked down at my intertwined fingers. I was not quite sure why I felt so betrayed. Maybe it was because he had seemed so genuine with me. Maybe I had been utterly naive but I had genuinely trusted Banshee's words at some point.