Corrupted, page 24
For a few moments they both stood in silence, Robertson did not say or do anything, for fear of upsetting her even more, so shoved his hands in his pockets and moved his feet restlessly. “Remy tried to kill me,” said Lucy abruptly and Robertson appeared completely taken aback. He moved towards her imploring for more information, but then thought better of it, deciding it was best to wait for her to elaborate. “She had the opportunity to do so. She was on top of me with a knife to my throat,” explained Lucy emotionally, “and she was hurt and angry, but instead of lashing out like I did, she decided she didn’t want to become like me.” Robertson sank into the chair behind him as he gazed at Lucy with sadness in his eyes.
“I had no idea,” he said honestly, “I knew she’d tried to hurt you, but kill you? Why? Was it because of me?” Lucy blinked, then realised what he must be referring to.
“You mean because of the warning she gave you?” asked Lucy, “no it was nothing like that…the person I killed, it was her brother.” Lucy crossed her arms and lowered her head in shame, it was the first time she had admitted out loud what she had done, and she felt no better for it. Finally, she took a chance to glance at Robertson to see if he had realised what she had said, but she found that he was looking dumbfound.
“What?” he murmured, “she doesn’t have a brother.”
“How do you know?” shot Lucy, looking at him curiously.
“I…er…I checked over her file the other day to see if there was anything in there that could tell me more about why she did it,” admitted Robertson, “there was no mention of a brother. She’s never mentioned him to anyone.” For a moment, he said nothing, seemingly lost in thoughts of concern. Lucy was becoming slightly irritated; it was like he was completely missing the point of her revelation and their conversation.
“Well, she wouldn’t would she?” said Lucy exasperated, “otherwise people might have put two and two together.” Robertson stood up and shrugged his shoulders.
“But then it should have been on her medical file at least.” Lucy blinked at him; sometimes he really could be too frustrating for words.
“You don’t get what I’m saying do you?” she said forcefully. “She made a choice to set herself free from the hurt and bitterness, from hurting others like she’d been hurt but she didn’t…she made a choice.” Robertson moved around his desk and picked up her file before opening it and scanning it carefully.
“And that’s what triggered your memory?” he enquired, in surprise, “the fact that you could have had that same choice and chosen differently.” Lucy shrugged thoughtfully.
“I don’t know if I could have chosen any differently,” she observed honestly, “I was so scared and so alone. I just wanted to be safe and feel like someone cared.” She quickly locked eyes with Robertson upon saying this and for a while they just looked at each other until Robertson cleared his throat.
“E…Everyone has their breaking points Lucy;” he said, as he tore his eyes from hers, “just because you broke and someone else didn’t, doesn’t make you any less of a person.”
“No,” retorted Lucy bitterly, “it just makes me a killer!” Robertson appeared exasperated as he strode towards her and lifted his hands in frustration.
“Lucy, you have been through so much in your young life. Sexually abused at 7? that’s enough to screw anyone over for life, but losing your best friend, watching the people you love die right in front of you. Being rejected by your own mother? I’m just amazed that you are stood here in front of me, talking about it, wanting to change it, change yourself…for pity’s sake; is it even any wonder you’re still breathing? This is not the life you deserved. This is the life you were dealt! You could have done so much more Lucy if you’d have been given the right support…if someone would have believed in you.” Robertson finished his speech and stepped away from her awaiting her response. Lucy stared at him with raised eyebrows as she wrinkled her nose, clearly affected by his words.
“Well, I think I finally know why you became a psychiatrist,” she said light heartedly smiling slightly. “So what? You’re impressed by me?” Robertson laughed slightly and scratched the back of his head.
“Well yeah.”
“Even though I did something so horrible??” she asked fearfully.
“We all make mistakes!” he replied. Lucy threw up her hands in frustration; how could he see what she did as just a mistake when even she couldn’t see it?
“Mistake?” she said quietly, “it was murder. Have you ever made a mistake so terrible?” Robertson smiled at her slightly before he looked away and walked back around his desk.
“Do you regret it?” he asked. Lucy nodded and hugged herself with her arms.
“Of I course I do, I wish more than anything I could take it back, but I can’t.” Robertson was quiet for a moment, then he strolled across the room, grabbed Lucy’s shoulder and turned her toward him. Lucy’s mouth fell open in shock.
“It was a split-second decision,” protested Robertson fiercely, “you didn’t plan it, you were vulnerable! I know you think you had a choice Lucy, but if you could go back to that moment and relive it? it was probably the only choice you felt you had…at the time.” Lucy exhaled deeply because she wanted more than anything to believe what Robertson was trying to tell her, but it did not take away the reality of what she had done.
“What difference does it make?” questioned Lucy, “I’ve now got to live with it.” Robertson guided Lucy back towards the chair and encouraged her to sit down which she did, he then placed himself on the edge of his desk.
“Lucy, life isn’t just determined by the choices you make, it’s about how you deal with the consequences of those choices.” Lucy put both her hands to her face and ran them through her hair.
“What if I can’t deal with it?” she asked wearily. Robertson placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it.
“You will, I know you will,” he reassured her encouragingly, “you’re stronger than you know.” Lucy smiled at him slightly and then something suddenly dawned on her.
“A while back when I asked you if you thought I was a murderer, you said no,” said Lucy thoughtfully, “and now you tell me you’ve known this whole time and I’ve been suffering from amnesia. Why did you lie?” Robertson sighed as he crossed his arms.
“I didn’t lie,” he said honestly, “I don’t see you as a murderer Lucy! That’s not all you are!”
Lucy smiled at him sadly, before she asked, “how do you see me?” Robertson opened his mouth to speak in response, but then closed it, stood up from his desk and turned away.
“I’ve rang the district attorney,” he explained, “and told her that I think you are ready to go to trial.” Lucy’s legs nearly went from under her, as her eyes widened in surprise, before her nostrils flared and her face turned red.
“What? WHY?” she exclaimed, standing up so quickly that she nearly knocked the chair over and Robertson turned around in surprise.
“You can remember it all now Lucy,” he implored kindly, “you can defend yourself. All things considered I think you may find, it won’t go as badly as you think it will.” Lucy shook her head in disbelief as she wrapped her arms around herself.
“How can I defend myself against what I did?” she asked her voice thick with emotion. Then suddenly Lucy broke down and began to sob uncontrollably. Robertson at that moment did something that he knew could compromise his professionalism. He strolled up to Lucy and put his arms around her, allowing her to cry on his shoulder. After a few brief moments, Lucy untwined her arms and wrapped them around Robertson. It was a hug between two people that expressed what neither of them could put into words; Lucy longing for the comfort and love that had been denied to her for most of her life and Robertson needing her to know that even now, she still deserved it.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The Widow
Lucy was laying on her bed in her room staring at the ceiling, a million thoughts running through her head, of Robertson, of what she had done, of what it meant for the rest of life. Suddenly there was a knock at her door, she didn’t move or bother to sit up to see who it was, she merely ignored it. The door opened and in walked Elaine, “you’ve got a visitor Lucy,” she said cheerfully. Lucy did not move, so Elaine came and stood over her, “it’s not your mother,” she added, “in fact it’s a lady I’ve never seen before.” Lucy appeared mildly curious but made no effort to move. Elaine’s eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t you want to know who it is?” she asked, and Lucy shook her head.
“I neither want to know or care,” she replied, “please tell them to go away.” Elaine sighed and her heart went out to Lucy as she peered down at her, she could only imagine what she must be going through.
“She thought you might not want to see her,” offered Elaine, “but she told you I should pass on a name to you.” Lucy rolled her eyes at Elaine, thinking there was no point in anything anymore. “Michael?” queried Elaine, watching Lucy carefully for a reaction. Lucy suddenly sat up, wondering if Remy had come back to chat, but then that was ridiculous, surely Remy wouldn’t risk that. Then another person came to mind, the only other person who knew about Michael was Halley. Perhaps she had wanted to visit Lucy after all.
“Ok,” said Lucy, standing up, “I’ll meet her,” Ten minutes later, Lucy walked into the visitor’s room hoping to see Halley, but she froze when she saw who was sat waiting for her at the table, and it was not Halley. It was a woman with long blonde hair and immaculate make-up. Lucy gasped, as she realised that the last time she had seen this woman, was in a hospital room with her son, crying over her dying husband. Lucy slowly walked over and sat down opposite her wondering why she was here. Why would Michael’s widow want to call on her?
“You must be surprised to see me,” she said observing Lucy carefully for her reaction.
“Nothing surprises me anymore,” said Lucy in a hollow tone not wanting to admit the truth.
“How are you?” asked the widow and Lucy sniggered in surprise, it had been the last thing she had been expecting to hear from the woman whose husband had cheated on her with Lucy.
“Fine,” lied Lucy. “What do you want?” The window blinked and then sighed, she had been trying to be polite, but it was clear Lucy just wanted to get straight to the point.
“I came to ask you something,” said the widow honestly, she seemed nervous in disposition and it dawned on Lucy why she was here, after all the years, she had finally come to seek closure.
“I had no idea about you,” said Lucy bluntly, “he didn’t tell me he had a wife or a kid? How was I supposed to know?” She held up her hands as if to plead her innocence, which given what she had recently discovered about herself seemed foolish, but at least she knew this time it was the truth. The widow did not seem the least bit surprised by Lucy’s confession of innocence.
“Yes,” she said wearily, “I’d figured that much out for myself! Although I was surprised to see you were in here. You don’t seem like you belong here if I’m being perfectly honest.” Lucy nodded at her realising that this woman did not blame her for what happened with Michael.
“I thought that too,” said Lucy seriously, “but trust me I belong here.” She lowered her head and avoided the woman’s eye contact.
“So, it’s true,” said the widow, leaning closer towards her, “you killed someone?” Lucy did not respond and merely looked back blankly at her; she could barely admit it to anyone else besides Robertson, and she would be damned if she would admit it to the woman sat in front of her. The woman who she hadn’t known existed, the woman whom, without her memories of Michael would remain untarnished. When the widow realised she was not going to get a response she crossed her arms, leaned back in the chair, and pulled her face as if she were trying to admit something unpleasant. “He loved you, you know,” she said suddenly. Lucy blinked wondering who the woman was talking about, it couldn’t be Michael because you don’t lie like that to someone you love.
“He never loved me,” said Lucy bitterly, “he didn’t tell me about you, so I guess he was just using me.” The widow said nothing, but observed Lucy carefully for a few moments, as if trying to work out whether she was friend or foe. Lucy found this oddly amusing because she knew there was no way they could be friends after what had happened between them. Finally, the widow sighed as if she did not have the energy for a fight.
“Did you know you weren’t the first?” asked the widow and Lucy shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, there you go then,” admitted Lucy woefully, “he was using me. Is that what you came here for? to brag?” She leaned back in her chair and observed the widow carefully still trying to figure out what it was she had come here for. However, she appeared undeterred by Lucy’s intense gaze.
“I was aware my husband had ‘girlfriends’ should we call them,” she said bluntly, “we weren’t getting along and were doing our own thing for a while. Yet when he met you, everything changed.”
“What do you mean?” asked Lucy curiously, sitting up in her chair slightly, though she was still cautious. She was still well aware that to this woman, she would always be the other woman in her marriage.
“I mean, he fell in love with you,” sighed the widow wearily, “and suddenly he wanted a divorce.”
“You’re lying,” said Lucy although she suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Could it be true? Had Michael really loved her? She had believed it to be real at the time, but as soon as she found out about Michael’s wife, she had dismissed all their happy memories as fantasies, where she had only seen what she wanted or needed to see at the time.
“Before ‘the incident’.” said the widow and then she paused as if in pain, “the day before it happened,” she continued, “he told me that he was leaving me, leaving us, because he had met someone that he was getting serious with.”
“Then why didn’t he tell me.” Lucy’s voice trembled, the room seemed to be spinning around her, he’d loved her all along? Lucy decided that if the widow was lying, then she was despicable, but at the same time, how she wanted it to be true; to believe that someone had loved her that much.
“I guess he was going to,” said the widow, “but I’m going to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me. It won’t mean much to you, but it will mean everything to me.” Lucy braced herself, unsure what she was about to be asked. If the widow knew more than her about Michael’s feelings, then it was doubtful that she could offer her any information of equal value. The widow leaned forward and spoke quietly, and Lucy thought she had misheard at first. “Did you kill him?” she asked. Lucy suddenly leaped out of her chair looking outraged.
“WHAT?” she yelled and lots of people around the room turned to look at her, but Lucy did not care, because she could not believe the audacity of this woman. The widow however did not look the least bit put out by Lucy’s reaction, and instead she stood up too as if trying to restore the power balance between them.
“Did you murder him?” she asked again then she placed her hands on her hips as if determined to get an answer.
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” shouted Lucy and she was well aware that the security guards were keeping a close eye on her during the outburst. She was also aware that many of the visitors littered around the room, had stopped talking to whom they had come to visit and were enjoying watching the drama. However, Lucy didn’t care, she was not going to sit here and be accused of murdering someone she had loved. Yes, she had killed someone, but not out of sheer spite. The woman drew back fearfully, finally acknowledging Lucy’s anger and the potential danger of it. “So what?” asked Lucy through gritted teeth, she was trying very hard to keep her voice under control because she knew if she could not control her temper, the security guards would drag her away before she had said what she needed to say. “You heard I murdered someone and suddenly you thought hey I bet she killed him too?” continued Lucy angrily, “I loved him I would never have hurt him!” The widow looked torn between being sympathetic toward Lucy and maintaining her dignity, because this woman had still effectively ended her marriage.
“What was I supposed to think?” said the widow bluntly, “you killed someone! I thought you might be capable of anything.” Lucy sank back down into her chair with tears of anger streaming down her face realising that no matter how much she wanted to protest her innocence, Michael’s widow was right, if she was a murderer, then what wasn’t she capable of in other people’s eyes? They didn’t understand the years of hurt, suffering and torment that had led to that moment. As far as others were concerned, she was just as bad as any other murderer out there. “I came here because I wanted to look into your eyes,” began the widow, “and see if knowing that he loved you, that you’d suddenly be full of regret possibly because you killed him.” Lucy scowled up before she sighed realising it was no more than she deserved.
“I killed someone,” admitted Lucy, “I didn’t kill him.” The widow sank down into her chair at Lucy’s words, as if they had provided some form of relief, but she still observed Lucy carefully as if trying to make up her mind about something. Finally, she sighed and crossed her arms.
“I thought as much,” she said, “I mean part of me believed it could be true, but then when it was revealed he was involved with all that drugs scandal, and then I thought perhaps someone paid you off.” Lucy rolled her eyes.
“One murder in self-defence and suddenly I’m a hit woman for hire,” said Lucy miserably, realising that this was how most people would think of her now. The widow leaned forward as though she was challenging Lucy.
“I read the reports,” she said, “it didn’t sound like it was in self-defence; the man was trying to help you.” Lucy blinked, she hadn’t read many of the reports about what had happened, the few she had read had made her angry, but now she began to wonder how the media had painted the whole thing. Was Lucy the cold, hard, twisted murderer who had just randomly decided to kill the person daring to help her?
