❝I hurt people;
especially pretty girls like you ❞
In which an innocent but broken girl foxtrots with insanity.
And the music only stops when a demented man says so.
➳
Criminal psychology student...
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The setting sun set fire to the horizon of Kriptonhurst. With her fingers clamped around the steering wheel, trembling every once in a while, Tahlia came to a dreary realization.
Sometime in school, she'd learnt the term unreliable narrator, a literary phrase associated with narrators of a tale whose words may not be trusted. Whether they're liars, emotionally charged or even mentally unstable; their account of what happens in the story is to always be taken with a grain of salt.
Logan Hunt's words had all been embellished lies, or at least ones that he had meant to be. However, it all simply couldn't have been a meticulous lie, could it? It just did not seem humanly likely to her. The entire drive Tahlia clawed her brain in desperation for tiny details the psychopath may have let slip unknowingly.
Her jaw locked in anguish, having hit a proverbial brick wall. She stole a quick, agitated glance at the rear view mirror to ensure she wasn't being followed by an agent or something like last time. Westfield was on as high alert as ever, rumors spreading of a nation wide man-hunt for Logan being in the works.
She hadn't heard news about Dean since the morning, but having been left alone with her thoughts for all this while, something in her gut screamed to her that it simply did not feel right. She had every reason to have not an inkling of faith in Dean anymore, yet somehow he did not fit the puzzle. The criminal psychology student in her couldn't help but think of how he just did not fit the profile of a serial killer's accomplice.
Breaking away from those thoughts, she glimpsed at the GPS as she took the turn that lied ahead, going only a few feet on the road before she pressed down on the brakes. A deep breath left her throat, as she slowly removed her hands from the wheel and craned her neck to the side. On the other end of the car's window, there stood a colossal gate; a rusting, decaying gate that served as an entrance to St. Jude's Psychiatric Hospital. Or at least, what remained of it.
Tahlia stared off into the building, being swept away into the past. Fragmented recollections of Emilia clinging onto her frame, as they both trailed behind their mother entering these very gates, invaded her mind before she had time to realize. It was all a bit too hazy, but she remembered what it felt like seeing the hospital for the first time. Eight year old her was in part awe and part dread of the giant building that resembled a cathedral straight out of a Gothic noir movie. Tahlia could feel the tiny fingers of her sister clutching at her arms as she checked twice to make sure there weren't any gargoyles perched on top of the roof.
Snapping right back to reality, a second heavy exhale escaped her mouth. She willed herself to step out of the car, wrapping her arms around her torso. The air was getting chillier as nightfall advanced, the indigo sky quilting with twines of grey clouds. In hesitant yet resolute steps, she approached the eroding structure. Behind the gateway, there it was, ruins of what once used to be a grand piece of architecture.
