Our Perfect Insanity

Epilogue

Epilogue

Crystal City, 2011

Unknown 

“It's only in love and in murder that we still remain sincere.”

  ~Friedrich Dürrenmatt

Jonathan Kilmury stood in the graveyard, his expression solemn.

His arm was around the younger girl known as Sylvia Bell, though, if anything, the recent events had turned her from a naive child into a strong, and brave young woman.

Her hand was locked around the one belonging to Jake Maltony, who stood, still looking weak from recent events, but, better, much to Sylvia’s happiness. With them was Elizabeth Christine, Loretta Kade, and Gavin Kress.

Even Rosalie Dawn and Nathaniel Sage were there, standing off to the side slightly, as the graves that Jonathan and Sylvia were watching, held people barely known to them.

Kathryn Bell

Samantha Clark

June Kilmury

Katrina Grayce

Sylvia, glad at least Jake wasn’t one of those names like she had thought he was, gave his hand a light squeeze, to which he looked down at her and gave her a weak smile.

Jonathan and Sylvia had their names cleared, as, it seems, Ariel had most of the police officials under her control.

Upon her death, it seems they came to their senses, and, listening to Jonathan and Sylvia, understood what happened.

The missing files of Patient 127 also were found, after apparently being misplaced.

‘More like hidden.’ Sylvia had sneered bitterly to one of the officials of O’Neil Asylum, who seemed taken aback until Jonathan escorted Sylvia out, knowing she wasn’t going to be polite until she had gotten over what had happened.

Now, seeing as it was getting dark, and cold in the graveyard, Jonathan hesitated, staring at the grave, before glanced down at Sylvia.

Upon having him suggesting they should head home - as Sylvia was now living, and soon to be adopted officially by Jonathan - she nodded her head, allowing him to lead her out of the gates, the others following in their footsteps.

It wasn’t long after the group of mourners had left, that a cloaked figure stepped out from the trees surrounding the cemetery.

The figure strode, as if gliding across the damp grass, over to the grave.

The one marked Kathryn Bell.

If anyone would have been watching at that time, would only to be able to see soft lips on a pale face, turn up in a sinister smile.

A pale, slender hand emerged from the black cloak, dropping something onto the grave of Kathryn Bell, before the woman smiled darkly at the grave and, as suddenly she had appeared, she was gone, disappearing into the darkness.

All that was left was the blood covered white rose she had dropped onto the gravestone.