Things We Can't Tell (Cold Case Series 1)

vii.

It's just in my head

𝚄𝙽𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙵𝙸𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝙾𝙳𝚈, 𝙵𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳. 

 𝙰 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍'𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚖'𝚜 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚢. 

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚜𝚎.

S E S S I O N 7

The next morning, I was devastated. The events of the previous night had left me drained, both emotionally and mentally. I knew deep down that I couldn't help Lindsey anymore, not in the state I was in. n̶o̶ ̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶ ̶h̶e̶l̶p̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶.

I think I'm losing my sanity, questioning everything that had happened. 

Was it all just a figment of my imagination? Was I making things worse for Lindsey instead of helping her? The thoughts swirled around my mind, making it difficult to focus on anything.

I think of the idea of leaving. Maybe it would be better for both of us if I left. But the thought of abandoning Lindsey . . . I think I can't.

I decided to distract myself with chores, hoping that the routine would clear my mind. I cleaned the house, moving and cleaning might help me think, but my thoughts were far from organized. 

While Lindsey was taking a bath, I took the opportunity to clean her room like I used to. Every time I go here, I can't help but remember the telephone, but I've already told myself that it was just my imagination.

I dusted the surfaces and straightened the bed, I tried to push my doubts aside. As I moved a drawer to sweep underneath it, I noticed a crumpled piece of paper stuck in the gap between the floor and the bottom of the drawer. 

My heart skipped a beat. What could it be? 

I felt uneasy when reached down and took the paper.

It was a torn page from Lindsey's journal. My hands trembled as I opened the crumpled paper, revealing the hastily scribbled words. The handwriting was shaky, the lines uneven, as if written in a moment of intense distress, far from what I remember her handwriting is.

As I sat there, holding the torn page from Lindsey's journal, unease settled deep in my stomach. The words on the paper echoed in my mind.

What? Huh?

What's the meaning of this? Why did she write this? Why didn't she show me this?

My eyesight became blurry, couldn't comprehend what I'd just read. The scenario came back to my mind, maybe a memory. A memory that I thought was just a hallucination.

I need to move. I'm not safe here anymore. i̶ ̶s̶h̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶k̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶ ̶f̶i̶r̶s̶t̶. There's definitely wrong with her.

𝐼 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝.

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