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And what the hell? Avery stomped her foot, enraged and impatient. Why was it taking so long? Why hadn't she felt the rush like before? Why was there no release this time? What was different? And what was she supposed to do about Deanna? Had the Foster called the police? She looked at her clothes, at the knife still in her hand, at the red-stained room, and realized she had messed up.
While trying to think what to do next, Avery noticed Angel standing in the doorway of the bathroom, staring down at the mess she made in the far corner.
"I'm sorry," Avery mumbled and dropped the knife back into Angels' purse. Then apologized again. And again. Angel didn't respond, though. She crouched on the floor in a haze, hearing and seeing nothing but what was in front of her.
Avery had to fix it. She left Angel to her quiet panic and began thinking. Pacing again. Trying to match up the scene with a plausible scenario. Mid-way through planning what Avery hoped would be a plausible lie, came another knock on the door. And then a voice boomed through the wood. "I know you're in there!" Angelica squeaked.
Avery hesitated, but then thought better of it. If her plan was to appear desperate, she'd have to act like a desperate person and answer quickly. So she did. She opened the door wide and threw herself into Angelica's arms.
But, then as Avery tried to explain, the girl saw the mess in the corner, what was left of Jake, and backed away. Avery tried to look as weak and broken as Angel did, leaning over, faking a cry, and gasping as if her world was over. And then she gave the story she thought someone like Angelica would believe.
"He-" she cut off, thinking, would it seem too rehearsed to come right out and say it? Took a breath, the way Angel often did, and finished, "-he wouldn't stop! He tried to kill me!"
And that was as far as her plan had formed. But she'd said it and she couldn't back down when Angelica leaned out in to the motel corridor and called out for the police.
Not help, Avery noted, she said police. Avery did not want to involve authorities but reasoned if Angelica believed the accusation, calling the cops was the next logical step. And then Avery knew why Angelica had used that specific word, because she heard the sound of heavy boots in the cement corridor.
The room was suddenly a flurry of noise and activity as two, then three, then five officers rushed into the room. They were holding their weapons and shouting commands. Angelica was the first to put her hands up and so Avery did likewise. But the moment she gave an inch, Angel woke up from her stupor and began screaming for help. She was subdued immediately, just like Avery.
On the way out of the motel room, as Avery was shoved into the back of a waiting patrol car, she looked for the one person she knew had brought them there: Deanna.
She was across the lot, near the office. Her face was covered in bruises, and though she did not look at Angel, she begged for the police to be gentle with her, told them the girl was sick, that she didn't know what she was doing.
Avery thought, how ironic.
Because she thought she'd killed Deanna. Now Jake was dead and Deanna-who was supposed to be-was pleading, her eyes were filled with tears. After everything, she was still trying to protect Angel.
+++
I am done.
My tank is on E.
"I'm finished." I say, and wait to be taken back to my cell.
49
-Angel
The thing about crazy that most people can't understand is: from my perspective, nothing has changed.
I don't feel any different just because the doctors' diagnoses flipped. More accurately, it only confuses me. It makes me wonder why I am the only one who knows what's really happening.
I kept company with figments of my imagination. Or did I?
That means that I continually sought comfort in an abandoned house that I could swear belonged to Avery and her mother. I sat in their mismatched dining chairs. I ate grapes and cookies from containers on the counter and raided their refrigerator.
Or did I?
My mind cannot fathom the deep level of duplicity.
Still, even after all the years I have spent in lock-up, seeing the video recordings of myself speaking as if I am the very person, the liar I loved like family, I can't change the memory of sitting at that table, conversing, and eating those cookies. Drinking and dancing with Avery on the hill, even though I've been told that I was actually alone, dancing in the dark.
I was alone in the parking lot when Jake approached me. I went to all those Analog Controller shows by myself.
All my memories are some form of lie. But I still feel as if I had a lifelong friend that betrayed me. That feeling doesn't change because no one else sees or hears her.
Not one bit.
