Simply put, all the evidence pointed at me, whichever way you looked, so it’s a fool’s job. And besides, no one wanted to grant an appeal to my case based on the small inconsistencies in the evidence they found.
Over the years, I’ve even started to believe it’s true. Somehow, this conviction makes life here more bearable, because then I can feel like I’m getting atonement for my actions.
Even if everything inside me rebels against the idea.
Too bad the land where sinners atone doesn’t exist. Maybe then I would have gone there once my nightmare ends.
“Look, it’s really nice of you to try, but my case is hopeless. So please don’t come here again, and go focus your talent on someone else. Who knows? Maybe you can help them,” I say before kicking the chair back so it scrapes loudly on the floor. I’m ready to bolt.
Her cry of protest stills my movements though. “Please, Phoenix, listen to me.” She motions with her hands for me to sit back down, and even though I want to refuse, I do as she asks only because of the remorse written all over her features.
She probably doesn’t know there are cases, in any career really, that you can’t help but let go of. As a psychiatrist, I learned to separate myself from the patients after coming to the hard realization that there is only so much I can do, that I couldn’t fight against their resistance or biology.
It broke my heart every single time, but to survive in my profession, I had to learn to let go.
She takes out a few photos from the folder and places them one after another between us on the table.
They all showcase beautiful women smiling brightly at the camera. I don’t miss their expensive clothes and rings on their fingers either.
Whoever they are, they are rich and happily married.
Lydia moves her fingers from photo to photo while talking, and her words sending a chill down my spine, icing my blood. “All these women were hit by a speeding car that didn’t stop no matter what. All died within the last couple months.” I cover my mouth with my hand, stilling a gasp. Dear God, those poor women. “Cases like this have happened through the last three years, although in different locations, and there was a big gap between accidents, so no one connected those.” A pause and then, “But the latest frequency concerned FBI agents, and they opened up a case.”
All she says is very tragic, and I feel sorry for the families, but what does it have to do with me? Surely, they don’t think I know anything about it.
Or do they want to put the blame for all these murders on me too? Is it another plan of King, making me rot in prison till the day I die, so I can atone for my sins?
With confusion lacing my tone and a little anger, I say, “I don’t understand.”
She huffs in annoyance, running her fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry I’m not explaining it right.” She clears her throat and fires a bullet at me; that’s how much her words shock me. “All the drivers had alcohol in their system. All the drivers claim they couldn’t control the vehicle and hadn’t drunk anything before sitting in the car. All the drivers mentioned how the car just acted on its own while they drove right into those women.”
Oh my God.
And with these words, it’s impossible to stop the memory that has been haunting me for the last four years. I’ve replayed this night over and over again trying to find a clue that could help me sort out the puzzling mess I ended up in.
Turning on the radio, I smile as a loud rock song fills the space, and I sway my head a little to the beat.
It’s much needed after the long day in the psychiatric ward with one of the ruthless criminals. They needed my assessment to know if the man really killed his three kids and wife with a shotgun. Was he in his right mind, or was it maybe something else?
I shudder just remembering how his voice and eyes along with his face held no remorse for his actions. The man was a psychopath, and he’d planned for years to commit his crime.
I needed a bath to wash away the filth, along with some dinner, since I skipped breakfast and lunch, too nervous about this trip to eat anything.
This will have to stop in the near future; my priorities will have to change, and I can’t wait for that!
My phone rings, and I pick it up as Sebastian asks, “Beautiful wife, where are you?” Warmth spreads through me as my worries go away; that’s how much power his voice has over me. “Dinner is ready.”
“On my way. We’ve managed to diagnose the woman, so yay! She will get better in a few months, and they won’t have to lock her up.” I made up the entire story, too afraid to tell my husband where I really went, not wanting him to worry for nothing.
Sebastian is fiercely protective of me. It would have driven him crazy to think I sat in a killer’s company for so long.
He chuckles. “Never doubted you, beautiful. Wine and chocolate then the story.” It’s been our tradition since my very first case; we celebrate together while he listens to details about my day.
Or holds me in his arms while I cry my eyes out when my patients don’t make it or there is nothing I can do for them.
Although, today, wine will have to wait, as I have very important news to share with him. “For sure. Love you, baby.” I rub my stomach lightly, my mouth curving at the prospect of seeing his face when he gets to know my little secret… which we’ve dreamed about for the last two years.
Desire and softness lace his voice as he replies, “Love you too. Drive safe. I’m waiting for you.” The minute I place the phone on the nearby seat, my car starts to act up.
My windows are sliding up and down, while my windshield wipers move in different directions. The radio is wonky, as if the station has changed and it can’t tune in.
The steering wheel sways from side to side, driving down the wrong side of the road, while I do my best to get control of the car, but I can’t, since it’s not responding to me.
It won’t turn off!
But then I raise my eyes to the road, and my heart stops as I see a woman using the pedestrian crossing as she laughs into her phone.
I press on the brake pedal, but no matter how much I push and push on it, the car doesn’t stop, and a scream tears from my throat. “Run! Please, run!” The woman doesn’t hear me and continues to walk, but then she shifts her attention to me. Her eyes full of fear are the last thing I remember before the car hits her and she flies over the roof while the car stops abruptly, making my head hit the steering wheel.
Then everything goes blank.
Life as I knew it ended on that night, and I woke to a completely new world.
One where everyone hated me with a vengeance and demanded my blood, so I could bleed to death while all of them watched.
Lydia squeezes my hand, and only then I notice how blood seeps between my fingers from the pressure my nails put on my skin. She gives me a tissue and murmurs softly, “It’s probably hard to remember. But it wasn’t your fault, Phoenix. You are not guilty, and I’m going to get you out of here.”
“How?” It’s the only word I can force through my dry throat.
“All the evidence shows you were his first victim. Plus, he has written a letter in which he confesses to his crimes. He’s even sent it to some federal agents, playing games. All those killings have made him cocky, and he probably feels invincible. With his admissions, he’s shifted everything on its axis. He is a serial killer, Phoenix,” she says with distain in her voice, and I hope I can muster all the knowledge I have about them in order to understand what’s going on around me. “He probably couldn’t keep it inside himself anymore. So we will appeal the case and make sure to get you all your privileges back. Your medical license, the fines you had to pay, and most importantly, your name will be cleared. Plus, the compensation from the state for the miscarriage of justice. I’ll be with you, Phoenix.”