Page 30 of The Death of Kisses

Emotionally reactive

Compulsive

All these words I was familiar with—like looking into a mirror, yet afraid to turn the page.

Court transcripts caught my attention a moment later.

Prosecutor: Were you aware that your firearm was directed at the deceased?

Defendant: Yes.

Prosecutor: Did you see the deceased assaulting Lillian Wyatt?

Defendant: If you are asking if I saw Mr. Wyatt raping my best friend? Yes.

Prosecutor: So you admit you killed him.

Defendant: Yes. He was raping her, she screamed. Begged him to stop and he didn’t.

Prosecutor: And then?

Defendant: Then I shot him.

Prosecutor: So you admit you killed him?

Defendant: Yes.

Prosecutor: Ms. Callahan, was there another course of action available to you?

Defendant: Laughs

Prosecutor: Ms. Callahan, what do you find funny?

Defendant: He’s dead and you are prosecuting me acting like he wasn’t some menace to society. Everyone in this court room knew that he was beating her, and you all sat there and did nothing. You let it happen. You should be ashamed.

Judge: I think we should have a fifteen minute recess.

My eyes remained fixed on the page long after the words ceased to make sense.

She laughed.

Not out of amusement.

Not out of indifference.

But out of anger.

Because no one had offered help to her friend. Everyone else had simply stood and watched. A strange heaviness settled in my chest.

I ought to have been horrified.

Instead, all I could think was: Someone cared for Lilly Wyatt enough to take such action.

Footsteps echoed loudly as they descended the stairs. I quickly arranged the papers and stepped away from the counter. My phone vibrated unexpectedly, catching my attention.

Carrie: Hey! Guess who just went through a breakup and is feeling the need to get shit faced.

Me: Oh no! I thought Alex was the love of your life.