The Good, the Bad, and the Crazy. //+//A Complicated Love Story//+//

Chapter 5: Branson.

I feel bad. There’s no other way to put it. How could I have sided with my idiotic mother? I knew Mary didn’t steal the money. I know Mary didn’t steal the money. So why hadn’t I told her that? I guess by the end of the night I was just so mad about everything I wasn’t even thinking.

I need to make this right. I need to go and see her.

As I drove down the highway I couldn’t help but think. If Mary really didn’t steal the money then how did it get there? The only other person with her was Layla. Which makes it her word against hers. One of them is lying. If it’s Mary then do I have to leave her alone? And if it’s Layla then do I have to end things with her?

I honestly can’t imagine Layla doing something like that. But it does seem more likely that Layla would be a bitch than it would Mary. Mary was shy, strong, proud, and unbelievably polite to my family and they were terrible to her.

Maybe they would have liked her more if I hadn’t carried her in upside down, butt facing them. All though it’s not like that’s a grossly sight. Her butt was perfect, just like the rest of her. Unlike most girls she wasn’t obsessed with being a skinny stick. In fact she was far from it. She had breast and hips and nicely rounded legs. She’s defiantly not fat, but she’s not just bones and skin like Layla.

You know what I’ve noticed? I keep comparing the two. Layla and Mary.  I don’t know why but I do. I think something about one of them and then wonder if the other is like that.

It wasn’t long before I reached her house. I parked my car, and locked it, before I walked up the small dirt path to her front door. I knocked once and waited. It was a good five minutes and nobody had come to the door. I was going to knock again but then I heard a voice coming from the backyard. I slowly made my way around the house and saw a woman sitting in a beach chair, with her back to me, a cell phone in her left hand ringing on speaker, and a smoke in her right hand.

“Hello, this is Dr. Williams office how may I help you today?” The receptionist said over the speaker phone.

“Hi. This is Elizabeth Catch calling about Mary Stole. Dr. Williams wanted me to call him sometime today to discuss her latest diagnosis. Diagnoses, huh, how smart do I sound?” She gave an almost shaky laugh right into the phone.

“Very smart ma’am. Now if you’ll please hold for just a moment I’ll put you straight through to Dr. Williams.”

“Sure.” Miss. Catch said and then on the other line there was this classical music for just a moment before a man’s voice came on.

“Hello, this is Dr. Williams speaking.”

“Oh, hello Dr. Williams. This is Elizabeth Catch calling about Mary Stole. You asked me to call today so we could talk about her.”

“Yes. I’m very concerned. I fear that someday, someday soon, she will realize that she has no reason to live. Or at least that’s what she’ll think. And for her it would be as simple, and fearless as talking a knife to her own throat and with it taking her life. Do you think she’s showing any sing of suicidal thought or actions, is she still cutting herself?”

What? What the fuck is this guy talking about? A reason to live? Suicide? Cutting herself? Mary wasn’t even thinking about that stiff…was she? He did say still cutting herself. Does that mean that did that for sure?

“Yeah, she is. I noticed a few fresh cuts on her arms this morning. She had come home last night very late and crying. She had a gash on her arm and she was soaking wet. The gash on her arm looked like she fell and then this morning she had new cuts on her wrists.” Miss. Catch looked like she was trying to take this seriously. I had to give her credit.