Lost (50 page)

and-“

  “I don’t understand.  He can go out whenever he wants and it’s just, I don’t know…”
  “It works, Sophie.  Well, until the last year and a half it worked.  Peter would even stay with us or at Kara’s when he was well for a while, and then he'd go back himself when the
voices
started talking again as he put it.  But he was really sick last year, then got better, then really sick again this February, and that's basically the last any of us really saw of him.  But we looked everywhere.  Trust me.”
  “For almost 2 months?  But you're a cop,” I said stupidly.
  Nodding yes, David exhaled hard again while staring at me. “I
am
a cop, so it was very hard for me not being able to find him.  My captain knows all about Peter, and even my buddies on the force know him, so believe me, everyone I know was looking, but we just couldn't find him.  It's like he vanished until he triggered the alarm in my garage.  He simply vanished after he heard about you in February,” he said then stopped abruptly.
  Actually everything stopped with his words.  My mom’s hand stopped soothing mine, and I think Steven just stopped breathing altogether.
  The room was silent and so still, I waited for anything to release me from the stillness I was drowning in.
  “You
told
him I was raped?” I croaked.
  “No,” he said shaking his head again. “But I did tell his staff psychiatrist when I found out, and we assume Peter read over his own file one afternoon when he was alone for his evaluation. I guess he played it cool throughout the exam, but bolted from the residency immediately afterward.  And I'm assuming that's when you saw him in February?” He asked to my silent tears as I nodded.

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone about Peter?  I don’t understand why Dent and Dolby were looking for Peter but you didn’t tell them who he was.  Or did you?  Did they always know who Peter was?”

  “No.  Your assault was obviously posted on the bulletin board at our precinct and I recognized your picture. But I didn’t tell Dolby I knew who you were and I didn’t tell Peter what happened to you.  I didn’t even tell Carrie.  I thought it was safer for Peter
and
you to stay quiet, and I only told his resident Psychiatrist, so he was prepared in case Peter ever found out, which he did.  And again, I assume that’s when he went to see you in February?”
  “Yes, he came to me to help me get better,” I cried again.
  At that point I was truly, and completely done.  I didn't have any tears left, and I wasn't capable of thinking or feeling any more.  The last 2 days had stretched out to years for me, and I was so done, I needed to sleep.  I needed to sleep for a week before I could even attempt to deal with every emotion I had crushing my chest and blowing my mind.
  I needed to sleep until I could function and only then could I deal with Peter.
 

  “There's one more thing, Sophie,” David said quietly, and as I blew out a hard breath I remember thinking,
of course there is.
  'Cause this shit couldn't possibly be over for me.
  “The man who raped you was also a resident at Gravenhearst with Peter,” and as I screamed a little in shock and frustration, my mother stood quickly, grabbing me up in her arms.
  “Enough!  Just leave her alone for now, okay?  She doesn't need to hear any more of all this shit, and neither do I!  Just let her deal with one bombshell at a time, okay?!” My mom yelled at David while I shook in her arms.
  “I wanted her to know so she wasn't surprised later.  I thought it best to tell her everything now, so she could deal with it all at once,” David said sounded honestly saddened by the circumstances. “Sophie, this is the last thing, I promise.  Detective Dent knew about Peter from me, but not that he was
your
Peter.  And when she told me about Gravenhearst when they picked up McGregor, I knew what was going on.  I knew he knew Peter so after Dent and I talked a little, she asked McGregor a few more questions, and he confessed to everything.  He took a key of yours from Peter, and he hurt you because he's insane and he thought he wanted what Peter loved so much.  He wasn't trying-”
  “ENOUGH!  Holy
shit
!  Enough.  Give her a fucking break,” my mom yelled again.

  Moaning, I was done.  “He didn’t use the window, then?  He used Peter’s key.” Shaking uncontrollably, I was so devastated, I said all I could.  “Thank you for telling me everything.  But I really have to sleep now.  I have to or I'm going to die I think.”
  “Soph,” Steven moaned.
  “No, Steven.  I'm done.  I have to sleep.  Thank you David, and maybe I'll see you some other time, but-”
  “Sophie, you have to give an official report of everything that happened yesterday, and I can't be there.  Detective Dent isn't assigned to this case, but she’s offered to be with you because we thought you might be more comfortable with her, since you-”
  “Okay.  That sounds good.  Please?  Please let me go now,” I begged even as my mom hugged me tighter.
  “I'm so sorry, Sophie.  Kara and Carrie and all of us are just so sorry any of this happened to you.”
  “I'm not,” I said as my mom stiffened against me. “Sorry, mom.  But I'm still not.  I love him even though everything is totally fucked up,” I cried as I pulled away from her.
  Without even looking back, I walked to my bedroom and just collapsed on my bed.  I didn't cry and I didn't look at my paintings.  For the first time since I had found them months prior, I didn't look at my beautiful paintings before I fell asleep.  I couldn't.  I had no strength to even keep my eyes open for one fleeting second.
  I was so lost in my confusion and despair, my body simply shut down on me.
 

CHAPTER 41

 
The following morning, after she slept on my couch, my mom woke me and told me we had to go to the police station to make a report.

  With little drama and with questions answered as calmly and accurately as possible, I put in my time, explaining the events as I knew them ‘for the record’.

  When I had finished my statement and answered all questions, I learned that the police had decided they weren’t going to lay charges against me for my involvement in the altercation with Peter.  I also learned they had every right to do so. 

  I remember hearing from the Interviewing Officer I
wasn’t
going to be charged, and I was so confused I asked, “Why would I be charged?  What did
I
do?”

  “Ms. Morley, you assaulted a police officer, resisted arrest and-“

  “But I thought they were going to kill us!  I thought Peter and I were going to be killed, and he was going to die, and-” but I choked up before finishing, while the Officer waited a moment in silence for me to get it together again.

  “Ms. Morley, that is exactly why you are
not
being charged.  Officer Lockley and Officer Dent have both given a sworn statement as to your involvement with Peter Connor.  And they have each sworn that your involvement in the altercation was accidental, and manipulated in such a way as to make you believe you were in fact defending yourself.  Also, we’ve learned that though the Officers involved did announce their presence, you were under the assumption that the police themselves were there to cause you bodily harm, therefore, you again believed you were only defending yourself.  Am I correct?”

  “Yes…” I admitted.  “I think I only hit one guy, once.  But I don’t really remember resisting arrest though.  What about what I did to my brother?”

  “What did you do to your brother?” He asked somewhat kindly.

  Thankfully though, I was coherent enough to shut my mouth.  If the police didn’t know about that, I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell them.

  “Ms. Morley, go home.  As far as the Police are concerned your involvement is over.  You were a victim of Mr. Connor’s delusions, and we don’t want to further victimize you by pressing charges, or by keeping you involved with the investigation any longer than is absolutely necessary.  We have your statement, collaborated by the Officers involved, and even by Mr. Connor himself, so you’re free to leave.  Ms. Morley, this is over for you now.  Go home,” he again said almost kindly.

  Nodding, I smiled at him, stood up with a little thank you and made my way out the door.

  I was
not
free, and this would never be over for me, but at least I wouldn’t have a criminal record I thought while giggling a little as I left.

  After the interview, my mom and I were ready to leave, but I had one final request of David who was waiting in the hallway for me to finish.  I didn't know why he was waiting for me but I took the opportunity offered and ran with it.
  Looking at David, I begged him to take me to Peter.  I begged him even as my mom protested beside me, and David told me it was impossible under the circumstances.  David explained immediate family could only see him under police supervision, and in one final push of insanity, I argued I
was
family.
  In the hallway of the police station in front of my worried and exhausted mother, and to a man I barely knew but felt kind of friends with, I begged him to let me see the man I loved.
  Actually, I think I said, “Please let me see Peter because he was supposed to be my forever, and I have to see him so I can finally say goodbye,” which was a little dramatic and over the top, but it really was the truth as I felt it.
  I needed to see Peter one last time before I could let him go, and David reluctantly agreed to take me to him.
 
 

   Entering the hospital escorted by Carrie's husband David and my mom, was weird, but I felt nothing.  I was like the walking dead going to face Peter.
  I didn't know how I even felt anymore.  I didn't know what I felt or even who I really was anymore.  I didn't feel like the old Sophie Morley or one of her many incarnations of the last 16 months, nor did I feel like the Sophie of even 12 hours before.
  I was weightless and powerless and confused, and just lost.
  The absolute shift to my reality caused an emotional imbalance and a feeling of hopelessness deep inside me.  I felt scared and desperate, and just hollow inside.
  When we arrived at the door to Peter's room, I think I begged to see him alone.  I seem to recall being told it wasn't protocol, and I think my mom jumped in again with something like, “Is
any
of this protocol?”  

  I think I remember even laughing for a split second at my mom's Mama-Bear Syndrome which effectively shut up the police and scared them into bypassing the protocol they chose to ignore.
  I was told about keeping my physical distance, and not interfering in his care at all.  I was told I would be removed immediately if I aided Peter at all with escape or with his binds.  I was also told someone would be checking up on us regularly so not to 'get any ideas'.
  Then it was time.
  Holding my breath, my mom put a comforting hand on my back, pushed open the door for me and then held back in the hallway as I stepped a foot forward.
 

                                                 *****

  I walked forward slowly while taking in my surroundings quickly.  And everything was just so sad.
  The room was quiet but for the machinery beeping, and everything was pushed against the walls.  There was nothing of significance available to the one thing I was immediately drawn to.
  Peter.
  On a typical hospital bed of white, with his head turned to the opposite side of the room, he faced away from me as I took him in. 

  Lying lifeless and alone, Peter looked like an angel in his bed of white.

  He was still and silent, and he seemed to glow in the otherwise fairly empty room. 

  He seemed to glow, like he always had for me.  Beautiful and charismatic and enchanting with an otherworldly calm about him.

  And I was totally broken staring at him.
  I couldn’t move and I couldn't advance.  I was stuck in the love I had for the beautiful angel on the bed of white.
 

  “Sophie... You came,” he whispered as I cried out.  Crying, my heart was ripped from my chest by the sad sound of his little voice.
  “Hi Peter...” 
  “Can you move closer?  I can't hurt to you.  I'm tied down,” he said so sadly, I felt a moment of outrage turned quickly to anxiety for him.  I thought about what it must feel like to be tied down, and I imagined what he felt like to be forced to be still.
  “Sophie?”
  Shaking my head, I tried to calm myself before I spoke.  I knew he would know I was devastated by my voice, so I tried to cover up my sadness.

  “I’m here, Peter.  And I know you wouldn’t hurt me.  Um, how are you?” I asked like everyone asks when struggling with something greater than they have the ability to understand.  It's like in asking, we hope they don't actually tell us the whole truth, but just enough to give us an idea, while giving them the feeling of being cared for because we asked.
  “Nothing between us was ever not real, baby,” Peter whispered.