The steady melody of beeping coaxes me awake. It flutters over me, at first too quiet to understand what it is. But it gradually becomes louder, and the darkness around me filters in light. It becomes too bright for me to keep my eyes closed. I slowly open them and blink through teary vision.
Out the corner of my eye, I see quick movement. I flinch away and turn my head. A figure hovers over me, but they're blurry. I squint harder while trying to move away. My arm restricts. I wiggle it and hear the sound of chains clanking.
"Jenny," the person beside me says softly. Their shadow comes into focus and I breathe a relieved sigh. Drake's frazzled face is leaning close.
I whip my head around, seeing the painful white walls and clinical machinery. Deja vu washes over me. "H-How...?" I meet his eyes again. "What happened?"
Drake shakes his head. He doesn't want to say it. Instead, he sits down in the chair close to my bedside. He puts his hand over my arm. "How do you feel?"
"I..." I pause, trying to reach inside myself and feel around.
Truth be told, I feel different. I feel...better. Before then, there was this overwhelming claustrophobia like I was sharing a body with someone else — granted, I kind of was. But it's gone now.
Now, I feel empty. Like something was here but is missing now.
I feel weak. Vulnerable. Like the inner layer of my skin has been ripped, shredded. That wall I built up over the years to keep me tough and guarded is no longer there. I haven't felt this way since the night I was arrested. Since I disappointed my father.
Am I even the same person anymore? Do I even know who I am?
My eyes snap to his. They begin to water. From what? I don't know. Maybe I'm anxious. Or just fragile. Ugh, I hate that word.
"I think..." I catch myself. I'm too afraid to say it. "I think it's gone." I snake my hand down to my gut. "But how?" I shake my head. No. "It doesn't make sense." I don't believe it.
There's only one way to prove it. A nurse enters the room. I sit up straight as I turn to her. "I need a rosary," I demand. "Bring me a rosary."
She looks back at me with wide eyes. "Do you not have a rosary in this damn place!?" I snap when she doesn't respond. She looks questioningly at Drake, who nods.
"Can you find us one, please?" He asks.
After what feels like forever, she returns with one. She gives it to Drake before hurrying off. I turn to him. "Put it against my hand," I tell him, holding out my palm.
He presses the crucifix into my skin. It's so cold. I tighten my grip around it and clench my eyes shut. My heart beats like a drum, but nothing happens. I don't feel any heat or pressure other than the edges of the cross digging into my palm.
I let out a laugh. When I open my eyes, tears escape, crashing onto my cheeks. I take the rosary from him and hold it in my lap. "How?" I ask quietly before looking up.
Drake leans down to a bag by his feet. He pulls out a large book with an old-looking cover. He shows it to me but doesn't hand it over. "I read up on your demon."
"Is that —" I lean towards him way too fast. "Is that the book Jackson had?" When he nods, I tilt my head. "How did you know about it?" My head spins. "Or about anything else?"
He nervously glances away, unable to meet my eyes. "Your mom was really worried. She told me about the fight you had at the house. I went over. Jenny," He pauses. "I found the teeth in the bathroom trash."
A pit forms in my stomach. Suddenly, the guilt of what I've done hits me. Hard. "Oh fuck," I barely gasp.
"I went to see Jackson," he adds. "He wasn't very helpful. I don't think he likes me. But I found it."
I would be pissed about him seeing Jackson behind my back if it weren't for the fact that I did it to him first. And I definitely would be pissed about him investigating me at my mother's house, but how can I blame him?
We both know I would've done the same thing.
"Well?" I prod. "What does it say?"
Opening the cover, he thumbs through a couple hundred pages before stopping. I wonder how much of it he had to read before he found it. "It says the only true way to cast out and kill the demon for good is to commit a completely selfless act," he says while reading, then he snaps the book closed and smiles at me, "Which you did."
I shake my head. That's bullshit. "I'm not selfless — Drake, everything I've done has been selfish."
He reaches over and puts his warm hand on mine. "You almost sacrificed yourself so no one else would get possessed — or die. That is the definition of selfless in my book."
I still don't understand. I gesture to the book. "If that was in the book, why didn't Jackson get the demon out?"
"I figure it's a trick; if you know you have a commit a selfless act, then it won't truly be selfless. If Jackson knew he had to do it to benefit himself, it might not have counted."
Perhaps. But why would a book purposefully mislead like that?
For a minute, I don't say anything. I hold the rosary in one hand and Drake's hand in the handcuffed one. After the silence has passed over us, I feel Drake's thumb brush over my knuckles. I glance up at him.
"Your dad would've been proud of you," he whispers.
Tears well up in my eyes, and I look down at the necklace I'm holding. It's not my father's, but I feel a bit closer to him having it here, touching it. Almost like he's sitting beside me holding my hand like Drake is. But part of me wonders if he'd ever be able to let go of what I've done. And as I meet Drake's eyes, I wonder if he will be able to too.
I think he's able to read my thoughts through my worried face. His soft smile falls and he looks away. My chest rises. "Drake..."
"Jenny, I can't..." He takes a deep breath. He gives my hand a quick squeeze. "I can't cover up what you did."
Before he can do it, I pull my hand away. "I don't want you to." As the tears stream down my face, I look at him, and his guilty gaze shatters my heart. "I was possessed, as stupid as it sounds, but I committed those murders." I shake my head mostly at myself. "I'm just as liable as Jackson is, in the end."
I wipe at my cheeks. "Can I ask for just one thing? If I'm going to be going away for the rest of my life, I want just one last thing."
Sadness pools in his eyes. "What?"
"Do you remember that place we went to for our first lunch as partners? That diner? Do you think we could have one last meal together?"
He shakes his head. "Jennifer, I can't bring you anywhere."
I inhale deeply. "No, I know. I thought you could go get it and we could eat here."
Drake laughs, ironically I think. "You know what, why not? You know why?"
I smile but it hurts. "Because I'm worth it?"
He nods. "You are."
As he leans down towards me, I gasp lightly. I close my eyes and he presses his lips against mine. They're warm and soft, and I try so hard to remember how they feel in this moment.
This will be the last time I ever kiss him.
I stroke his cheek and run my hand down his chest. He pulls away and stands. Briefly, I catch regret in his eyes. But he walks out of the room before saying anything else.
I wait a good couple of minutes before sliding the handcuff key I stole from his shirt pocket between my fingers. My hands shake as I slip it into the lock and twist it until the cuffs come undone.
After finding my clothes, I get dressed and sneak out of the hospital. The entire time, I look over my shoulder, not sure if someone will pounce on me and lock me away. But I manage to get to my apartment. And I know I don't have long until Drake returns to the room and finds me gone.
I can imagine him there, shocked by the realization that I tricked him.
I pack a little bag, stuffing some clothes, a fake ID, and emergency cash into it. When I think I have everything, I haul it over my shoulder and exit the bedroom. As I pass by my desk, my gaze falls onto a notepad and pen. I know I don't have time, but I have to tell him. I have to.
At the top, I scribble a Dear Drake, even though it feels strange to write it like that. And then I write out what I've done and my resemblance of an apology.
Speaking to Aaron Jackson in prison only reminded me of what I was going to face. I didn't believe him right away when he told me about his demonic possession, and I knew no one would believe me either. But there was one thing he said that got me thinking.
It was about how he burned all of his shit.
Jackson had an emergency escape plan in place, and I knew I needed one after I killed Angelo. At the time, I killed two people that could be linked back to me. It could've ended horribly at any moment. I had to have a backup plan in case I could escape.
With each murder, I became more lucid. I took any evidence I could and I redirected it to someone else. Someone who deserves the blame more than I do.
Mal never hid his hatred for me. It was pure jealousy and undeserving. I figured he would try to destroy my career out of spite if he got the chance — and he did. So, while he was busy show hogging, I took his coffee cups and extracted remnants of his DNA to plant at Devil Lake.
And I may have sprinkled a few of the victims' teeth amongst his things. In his locker and desk.
The part of me without the demon feels guilty for setting someone up — someone who had nothing to do with the murders. But I suppose desperate people do desperate things.
I have to disappear now. I feel too far gone in the actions I took to prepare for this moment to not go through with it.
And I meant what I said; I am liable. I killed six people. Six innocent people. Part of me wasn't responsible, but in the end, I find it hard to decipher who was in control — was it me or the demon?
My father wanted me to have a good life. A fresh start. I don't want to let him down — I can't. He told me I only have one shot, and this would blow it.
I know telling you this, admitting to what I've done to run may expose me. You might just hand this note over to Stringer, and it could get me caught. But I couldn't leave without telling you why. Hell, I might just tear this fucking note up and you may never read it. But if you are reading it, I can't ask you not to tell anyone. I know your good heart will tell you to do the opposite.
But to disappear, I have to betray you, Drake, and it's the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Harder than letting down my dead father or my hopeful baby brother. Not because you're my partner or the person I rely on the most, but because I love you.
I love you, Drake, and I'm sorry I let you down. I promise I will make it up to you. Someday.
All my love,
Jennifer.
It might be foolish — downright idiotic — but I leave the note on my desk for him to find. I tuck it away in Dad's Bible. I run my hand over it, hoping that Drake will be the one to see it first.
On my way to the door, my foot catches on the rosary. It's still there on the floor. I tenderly pick it up and hold it for a moment before sliding it into my bag.
I walk a few blocks over to a car I bought off of Craigslist. I slip into the driver's seat and start the engine. I roll down the windows and let the cool air tussle my hair as I hit the highway.
I'm not sure where I'm going or what I'll do, but I can only make this chance count.
For Dad.
Final word count (as of end of final chapter): 39,940
It is done! Wow, this has been a wild ride. I'm so glad I was able to finish this story for the contest. The edits (or whatever I can call my edits) proved to be monstrous, but I did it, and I'm so proud.
Thank you to anyone who has stuck it out thus far. I hope you enjoyed the story. Now all that is left is to wait for the results of the contest. Good luck to anyone else who has entered! I'll be sure to post an update if I make it further!
As for future content, I'm excited to start writing something new, so we shall see if that one makes it on Wattpad. More news in the (hopefully) not-so-distant future.