The Festival: A Psychological Thriller Novella

Chapter Five

Wednesday, October 4th

Emma is sitting across the room from me, rubbing her temples. I can tell I'm stressing her out and I can just feel the tension in the room rising. It's almost as if I can read her mind. I know she wants to ask me to fill out the questionnaire honestly, but I can't. I'm afraid that if I do, anything that I mark can be misconstrued to lead her to believe that I am the killer. I wasn't the killer that night. I know I wasn't. She will attempt to convince me that our minds will fill in the blanks or that our brains will erase certain memories that are too painful to admit to in our conscious states when someone's personality splits.

I haven't seen this firsthand, but we talked about it in my Psychology class; how Psychologists attempt to explain to people how their splitting personalities work. It's not a one-size fits all situation, though. The thought that I could be capable of murder makes me want to breakdown. I don't want to believe that's the case, but everything feels so surreal as I talk about it out loud with Emma. I might be starting to believe it was me.

"Jessica," she starts, and my palms immediately begin sweating, "you can't blame me when I say that you could very well be responsible for all of this."

"It wasn't me," I scream at the top of my lungs as I jump off the couch again.

"Jessica, please calm down." Emma is begging now with tears in her eyes. When did her compassion come back? She was so cold before, so unfeeling.

"I'm telling you, it wasn't me," I huff.

"You can't ignore the facts," she says matter of factly, "every death that occurred, you were there. With the exception of the two that were trampled. You were the only one that saw Mark die, you were standing behind Adam when he met his demise, you were alone with Joe."

She's tapping her pen to the pad of paper as she rattles off the notes she's taken.

"How do you explain Bryan and Kaylee?" I challenge.

"You had an accomplice," she accuses.

"I did not have an accomplice." My voice echoes off the walls of the tiny room.

"So you acted alone." Emma thinks she has me cornered now. I'll admit, that was worded very wrong.

"No," I sigh, "I mean, I didn't do it and I didn't have an accomplice."

I attempt to calm my shaking hands and slow down my heart rate by taking a few deep breaths. I scan the room, but there isn't much to look at. I've never really examined my surroundings until now. I usually kept my head down, walked in, and wandered to the same spot on the couch. The two of us sit in an awkward silence for a few moments and I look up on the wall above Emma. I'd never noticed the crucifix hanging just above her desk. It's one of those that you would see at a Catholic church. Not just a cross, but the one that depicts Jesus hanging.

"So, let's say, you didn't do it," Emma says breaking the silence, "who could have and why?"

I can't stop staring at the wall decor.

"Jessica?" Emma asks, but I'm stuck inside my own mind. "Jessica."

I snap out of it and look at her. I can feel that my eyes are completely dead; like the lights are on, but no one is home inside my head.

Emma turns to look up at the wall, trying to figure out what I was looking at. Looking at the side of her face, her lips curl upward into a smile and she turns back to look at me, then back at the crucifix and back to me one more time.

"Are you religious?" Emma asks me, the question taking me off guard.

"Excuse me?" I reply, confused.