Psychopathy

Chapter 65- Chess And Baby Steps

Isabel stood at the sliding glass door, playing with the blinds. Since she'd been rescued from hell, she'd stayed in her apartment, never looking out. Anyone who had visited her had done so by coming to her home. Her confidant had told everyone that was what they had to do, and they had respected that. She wasn't ready to see the outside world yet. But today, when she woke up, she wondered if it might be time.

So there Isabel was, playing with the blinds and trying to find the courage to open them. She took a deep breath and lowered her head, closing her eyes. Before she could back out, she ripped the blinds open, already feeling the sun's warmth on her face. After the heat of hell, she'd kept the apartment practically arctic and her showers much the same. But the sun wasn't hot, not yet. It was more of a comforting warmth. So, slowly, she opened her eyes and saw the outside world.

Everything was familiar and strange all at once. The trees, the grass, the sun and the sky, they were all things that her heart used to know. Things her heart had yearned to remember, and she couldn't ignore the thrill in her veins at seeing them again. She found herself reaching for the tree next to her balcony, but couldn't ignore the shaking in her hands. She hadn't stepped foot outside in a very long time. Her fear and excitement were twisting up into a real Gordian knot, and stepping outside would be her sword.

Just as she had done with the blinds, she closed her eyes and opened the door before her courage could fail her. And once her courage reached its crest, she took a step onto the balcony, and then another. She breathed deeply, trying to calm her shaking hands. She hadn't opened her eyes yet, but the outside world was still there. She could smell the air, clean and free of ash, smelling slightly of rain. She could feel the sun's warmth. She could hear people going about their day and some birdsong, a far cry from the screams she had been used to.

Another deep breath, and she opened her eyes. She was there. Even if Isabel was only on her balcony, she was still outside. The tree was only a few steps away. On legs like a newborn foal, she went to it, taking one of the leaves between her fingers. It was soft, stiff, and smooth all at once. She'd forgotten what leaves felt like. It seemed like she stood there forever, just running that leaf through her fingers when a voice caught her attention.

A child was on the balcony next to hers, waving excitedly and asking what her name was. Isabel went to respond, but found her breath trapped in her throat. The little girl tilted her head, and another voice came from inside, calling her to breakfast. The child waved again and dashed into the apartment. Isabel still couldn't breathe. Before she could even register what had happened, she had dashed back into the apartment, shut the door, and closed the blinds.

It was there she stayed, one hand on the wall, one hand on her heart. At first, she couldn't believe that she'd panicked just because a child had spoken to her. The shame threatened to overwhelm her, but then she realized. She'd gone outside. And though it was just for a minute or two, she'd stayed there. Maybe next time she'd stay out there for longer. Maybe next time she'd actually talk to the child.

Baby steps were still steps, after all, and that was nothing to be ashamed of.

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Reid tapped his foot as he rode the elevator, taking another sip of his coffee. If his foot was already tapping uncontrollably, he probably didn't need any more of the coffee, but it had been a long night. They had just returned from Albuquerque, and the things he had seen had haunted him. He wasn't sure why- it wasn't as if the case was an incredibly hard one, mentally speaking. In a sense, it had been rather fascinating. The case had revolved around a mortician cutting off the victims' legs and trying to transplant them onto someone else, all in an attempt to "fix" his wife.