Cashed » Lip Gallagher [2]

»part 36 » without words

"See my problem is I don't fix things, I just try to repaint..."

-

My thoughts were endless.

After countless hours at the Chicago Police Department, I was finally where I wanted to be: the shower.

I sat at the bottom of the tub with my knees pulled to my naked chest as hot water cascaded over my head. My tired eyes watched as the last of the boy's blood disappeared with the water and down the drain. The weight in my chest was still heavy, events from last night crushing down on my ribs, making it hard for me to breath.

After the police arrived at our apartment, I was shuffled outside while a team of armed officers ran up the stairs. It took them longer than it should have to remove Julian from our room, but once they did, I kept my face buried deep into Ian's chest. That didn't stop him from calling my name. Even when I heard the crack in his voice as he called one last time, I didn't look.

Once Julian was far away, a police officer escorted Ian and I to the police station for questioning. They insisted on speaking with me alone, but Ian made it very clear that he wasn't leaving my side. And he didn't.

I was questioned for an hour in a small room that practically resembled a closet. There was no air and no windows besides the glass. My leg kept bobbing like I was on coke and my mind wandered like I was on oxy. Before the officers came into question, I truly thought I was in trouble. I couldn't tell you why, but being stuck in that closed space with nothing but blood on my cheeks took me to a dark place. A place where the only light accessible is through a life of addiction. I sweated like I was on drugs, and I wanted to be.

My head ached endlessly twenty minutes in. They asked about where he was from, what his home life was like, if he ever talked about self-harm. They asked me a million questions that I couldn't answer because I never truly knew the guy. Eventually they got to questions that I could answer but it only made me feel worse.

How long have you known about his drinking problem?

Uh, it was one of the first things he told me about himself.

So, you knew he had a problem?

I mean, yeah, but he said he was in recovery.

Did you ever encourage him to get help?

What does that have to do with anything?

Did you know about his drug habit?

No.

Do you think this murder was premeditated?

What? No, of course not.

Did he ever hurt you?