ENDS

Iris p. o. v.

Blankness…

That was all I could use to describe what I was feeling at this point.

Cause no nouns, no adjectives nor verb could describe what was going on with me.

Not just with me, but with everyone else.

The entire room was silent while the Judge prepared his verdict in the back room, the only voices you could hear was the muttering of a policewoman to Dylan trying to congratulate him with her words.

“You did the right thing.”

Her words sounded more like a consolation than an appraisal.

Everyone knew it was the right thing, so why did it feel so wrong to me? Its been years and I never thought a day like this would actually ever come.

Flashbacks from nights before kept re-occurring in my head, like possibly it was all a dream and someone would come wake me to ask “Are you okay?”

But it seemed like everyone was also lost in the dream, in desperate need of someone to wake them up too.

“there’s someone who wants to talk to you.” My mom said as she stops me in front of a door and passes me a smile. “I’ll be right down the hallway if you need me” then she pats me on the back and walks away.

After a few seconds I open the door and a woman smiles at me.

“You must be Iris, come in… have a seat” she said still grinning and gestures to the chair opposite her table.

The room was a dimly lit small area with a lot of curtains and shelves filled with books.

I gently walked into the space and took the seat she had requested me to.

She spent a few seconds tapping away on her laptop before shutting it close and looking at me.

Staring at me for a few seconds with a smile that made me wonder why exactly I was brought in here.

“It’s been a rough few years, hasn’t it?” her fingers intertwining like she was finally about to focus on what mattered more.

“Yeahh…” that was all I could say, what else would she expect from me anyways.

“And how do you feel?”

Me? I feel relieved. I feel overwhelmed.

If words permitted me, I feel overjoyed.

At the same time, I feel so torn.

I have lost so much within such a short period that I wasn’t so sure I was myself anymore.

“Conflicted.”

It seemed like my answer wasn’t one she was expected because it made her left brow raise a little.

“If you were asked, what do you want to happen right now… what would be your request?” she asked again.

“I’ll take back the clock to the day Louisa went missing, maybe this time I would take her along with me to the kitchen.”

The lady released a sigh, licked her lips like she was bracing herself up.

“Ma’am, have you ever heard of Stockholm syndrome?”

“Stockholm s-syndrome?” I asked back with a little confusion.

I was familiar with the word; I think we also played around with it quite a few times as teenagers but I never took out the time to figure out what it actually means.

“No… uhm, yes. I’ve just heard about it in a context” I continued and watched her adjust her glasses and stand to her feet.

“Two years ago, a girl who was sexually assaulted by her father as a child after her mother’s death, was about to get married to her father.” She started and took slow paces towards the only window of the room. she looked outside like she was drawing her memories from the sunlight.

“Her younger sister ran to the police station because if not for anything, she knew whatever was going on was wrong. The victim in question here was only seventeen and her younger sister thirteen. Their father? Fifty-two.”

I couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped from my lips when she continued the story. Maybe it was inaudible but it looked like she still had more to tell.

“We planned with little Jessica. It was supposed to be a small wedding, with only Jessica and their dog in attendance and big uncle joe to be the makeshift priest. It really took them by surprise when the police barged in on their supposed to be brief ceremony.” Now she looked to me like I was supposed to continue the rest of the story and I was sure the confusion etched on my face was evident enough as she carried on while making slow circles with her hand on the desk before her.

“Turns out, the victim was already five months pregnant for her father and when asked if she wanted her father behind bars, can you guess her reply?”

“No…? what did she say?” I asked silently getting curious to where this was headed.

“She pleaded we shouldn’t and she could swear that he was a changed man if we gave her the chance to prove it”

The lady now folded her arms and wore a serious look. “She was pretty convinced that her father was the love of her life and she was certain that’s the only reason God took her mother away, so they could be together. Till today she’s currently in therapy to unlearn that”

There was a brief silence between the two of us as we absorbed the weight of the story she just told.

“Miss. Iris, do you believe she has a point?” she asked and returned to her seat once again.

“I don’t think so, her father and uncle deserve to go to jail.”

My answer extracted a smile from her like she was proud of my response.

“My name is Christine; I am a renowned medico-legal psychotherapist. Been in the business for over twenty years and that is what a case of Stockholm syndrome looks like. In my years of experience, we see situations similar to this but its our job to help the victims realize”

“Wow…” I started, really amazed at what she had said and what her work entails.

I was only concerned why they locked me in a room with a psychotherapist “it must be difficult at times” I added.

“yeah, its difficult every time” she laughed “but today isn’t about me, I have a question for you.” There was a brief pause in between before she carried on “Does Hunter deserve to go to jail?”

At first, I was taken aback by the question but I think I tried my best not to let it show.

“For all the lives he’s taken, yes”NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

She smiled and pulled out a book and a pen “Let’s say he never committed those murders; does he deserve to go to jail?”

I wasn’t sure if it was a trick question or a rhetorical one but Christine adjusted the base of her glasses once again and wrote down whatever it is, she found noteworthy.

“Can I ask another question?” she says smugly and I whisper a ‘sure’ loud enough for her to hear.

“Who is Hunter to you?”

“All rise…” the registrar shouted.

I hadn’t noticed how lost I was in my memories until the shuffling of feet were loud enough.

The Judge was back in his full regalia and a grimmer look than he left.

I looked to the dock where Hunter and his father stood in cuffs and somber looks.

‘guilty’

They both pleaded guilty to the crime. I don’t know why I didn’t expect them to do that.

I had already been convinced that they were guilty whichever way it went in the court.

I don’t know what happened while Hunter and I were away, but I definitely did not expect to come back to a court where Dylan testifies against his own cousin and everyone were in on it.

It still baffles me.

“you may sit” the registrar announced after the judge had taken his seat.

More silence brewed in the court and the atmosphere was suddenly suffocating.

Till we heard the man speak.

“After much deliberation, with the evidence before me… I hereby find Mr. Hunter McConnell guilty of second-degree murder, rape, abuse, harassment and possession of illegal weapons and substances and he is hereby sentenced to life imprisonment”

His voice echoed all through, but he continued

“I also hereby find Mr. Brooks McConnell guilty of covering up a crime and he is hereby sentenced to fifteen years imprisonment. This is my judgment.”

And he struck his gavel against the board.

“All Rise!” came again the registrar.

The judge walked out of the court through the back door and the policemen present immediately take Hunter and his Dad along with them as they also leave the premises.

The media reporters ran into the room and some after them with their camera’s and microphones.

I think I was also being asked a few questions by them, I don’t know.

I really don’t know what was going on.

All I recall hearing was Louisa tugging at my gown and softly asking.

“Mummy, where are they taking daddy?”

I didn’t reply but Christine did on my behalf.

“To where he deserves to end.”

To where he deserved to end.

I guess in the end all truly is fair in love and war.