Shattered Reflections

Chapter 11

Ava

September 2019

"Ava, you're such a baby! You can't make your own decisions!" Peter shouted, his frustration boiling over.

"No, Peter, it's not that! We don't know each other well enough!" I tried to explain, but my voice trembled.

"You can't trust me, so how can you ever really know me?" he yelled, his anger echoing in the empty space between us.

Tears filled my eyes, the weight of his words crashing down on me.

"Ava, I'm sorry," he said, his tone shifting. "Come here, babe. We can do anything together."

He moved closer, just a few inches between us, and my heart raced.

"Trust me, Ava," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.

"Stop, please, Peter!" I pleaded, panicking as he approached.

In a moment of desperation, I grabbed a rock from the ground. It felt like my only way out, my only means of reclaiming control. I swung it, hitting him over and over until my hands were stained red, the world around me blurring into chaos.

"Oh my God, Peter, wake up!" I cried, my voice breaking as I stepped back, horrified by what I had done.

I turned and ran, not knowing where to go. My feet moved on instinct, carrying me to the police station. Bursting through the doors, I gasped for breath, every word tumbling out in a frantic rush as I confessed everything, the weight of my actions crashing over me like a tidal wave.

August 2024

"What happened next?" the doctor asked, his gaze steady.

"Nothing, really. They called my parents and brought them in. My parents convinced the police officer that I had problems in my mind. I don't know what they did next, but they managed to get me out of this trouble," I replied, feeling a mix of relief and confusion.

"Why did you kill Peter?" he pressed gently, his eyes searching mine.

I hesitated, the weight of the question pressing down on me. Finally, I found the words. "Because I hate physical touch. When my parents touch me, it's always because they want to hit me. It's never been about warmth or love. It's always been about pain."

I could see the understanding in the doctor's eyes, but it didn't ease the ache inside me. The memories flooded back—how touch had become a weapon, a reminder of everything I wanted to escape. I felt broken, trapped in a cycle of fear that had led me to that moment with Peter.

"It's hard for me to trust," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "When someone gets close, all I can think about is the hurt."

"What about Jonathan? Did he ever try to touch you?" the doctor asked, his voice steady.

"No?" I replied, uncertain where this was going.

"Did he know about Peter?"

I found myself staring at the ring I wore, tracing its outline with my finger before answering. "No."

"Who knows about Peter?"

"My parents," I said, feeling a hollow emptiness inside. In that moment, I felt like a robot, devoid of feelings.

"Why did you leave your job?" he continued, his tone probing yet gentle.

"Because there was a patient who died, and I couldn't help him," I admitted, the memory weighing heavily on my chest.

"You saw Peter," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Yes," I said, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"That's why you left Jonathan," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me?" I stammered, confusion flooding my mind.

"I mean, you were afraid you might kill Jonathan, just like you killed Peter."

"No, I was just—" I started, but he cut me off.

"What about Aaron? Where did he go?"

"I don't know," I replied, frustration bubbling up inside me.

"Maybe he knew you were a killer, so he didn't want to be with you..."

"I am not a killer!" I shouted, the words spilling out with raw emotion.

"Maybe he was afraid..."

"I AM NOT A KILLER!" I yelled, the room echoing with my anger and despair.

I grabbed my bag and stormed out, the weight of the conversation crashing down on me as I stepped into the cold air outside. I needed to escape, to breathe, to find a way to silence the chaos in my mind.

I felt something hit my head, and then everything went black.

The world faded away, and for a moment, I was suspended in darkness, lost in the void. Images flickered through my mind—faces, voices, and the weight of my actions. I felt a strange mix of fear and relief, as if escaping the chaos above.

When I finally came to, I was lying on the ground, disoriented. My head throbbed, and I blinked against the harsh light. Panic surged as I tried to sit up, but everything felt heavy and distant.

"Help!" I called out weakly, my voice barely rising above a whisper. I wasn't sure where I was, but the shadows of my thoughts loomed large, threatening to pull me back under.

As I looked around, disoriented, I saw a figure approaching. "Ava?" a familiar voice called, but it felt like a distant echo. My heart raced as I tried to piece together what had happened.

"Jonathan?" I croaked, my throat dry.

He knelt beside me, concern etched across his face. "What happened? Are you okay?"

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog. "I don't know... I just... I couldn't breathe," I admitted, tears pooling in my eyes.

"Just breathe, Ava. I'm here," he said, his voice steadying me.

But even as he spoke, the shadows of my past lingered, reminding me of everything I was trying to escape.