Tethered

Chapter Twenty

1

The whole ordeal was especially torturous for Cynthia. She sat in the bathtub, in the warm water, trying to calm herself down. Sarah sat in the tub with her, watching her. She couldn't deny how traumatizing the whole event has been, including the things Philip had supposedly discovered, and thing with Credo.

It was even more torturous for her. She was stuck between two worlds, trying to figure out which one to go to. She felt caught between the lights.

But she was beginning to add a little sense to her abnormal life. Maybe she didn't actually kill them. Maybe she was made to believe she killed them. But by who? And why? And how? With so many gaps, and questions, Sarah was tempted not to believe in anything really.

But the message given to Ken: Don't believe anything. Don't even believe what you think you believe you did. It's all a lie. You didn't do it. You didn't kill anyone.

Sarah was afraid it meant exactly Philip's theory. She was afraid there might be a huge truth in all that. But why the clues? Why not show them what's really missing? Sarah remembered that night again. She'd shot them. She'd shot them dead in the head. She killed them. Then she remembered the screams and the black car. Those weren't part of that night, were there? It was still very confusing. She was still filled with an unending guilt. What if there was nothing to prove? What if there was nothing to search, nothing actually missing?

2

She felt like every day brought with it that same burden—that same heaviness clenched against her chest, pushing her down, and down to an endless pit. Though it felt like she was making little progress, the question still remained: where was she headed? And how much further before she got there? How long before she went on rebuilding to just living again? It was impossible to answer any of those questions. She didn't have the answers to any of them.

But again, she continued to wonder: could there be a chance for her to do it all differently? Can she even? Was she capable? She was afraid she could never be able to mend the pieces together.

She could have been better off denying the notion that everything could be great again—that she could go back to being normal but again, it felt important that she did—even a little.

"I don't know what happened back there", Cynthia sobbed, cutting Sarah's line of thoughts. "I don't know what happened back there. Why did he do that? Was it because of me?"

Sarah glared at her, incapable of saying anything for a moment. She blinked, then touched Cynthia's arm.

"You didn't do anything", she said softly. "He killed himself because he wanted to kill himself."

"But why?" Cynthia cried. "But why would he choose that? Didn't he see the pain in his sister's eyes? Why was he so selfish?"

Sarah sighed, scooped water in her hand, lifted it up to eye level, and then let it go. Maybe Cynthia was right? Maybe Ricky was indeed selfish? But how could he be? When he was going through shit he couldn't explain? It was hard.

Sarah, herself had considered suicide a few times. Sometimes she wished the slashed marks on her wrist were a success. She couldn't have to go through all these if she was simply dead. It could've been so much easier for her and everyone else around her.

"I don't know what happened back there but I think it's all my fault", Cynthia whispered, then brought her knees to her chest and hid her face in her laps.

"It wasn't", Sarah said. "You did what you thought was right and...and...he killed himself, and I don't think it's your fault. You're nice person, Cynthia. Don't do that to yourself."