March

The following weeks weren’t much to remember. They were uninteresting and consisted of white walls, the forced sympathy of his peers, and a lack of movement. Recovering was always akin to this, recovering was when he thought about work the most. He thought about how nothing in the world would make him happier than to be staring at dead bodies and then going home as if all was well in the world, though now nothing was well in his world.

Staring up at stark medical white cork ceilings was the soul force of his lunacy, most days it was the only thing he saw. Stark white coats, blue or an unappealing shade of green scrubs. The voice they always used with him began to sound more like nails on a chalkboard, it started to feel like teeth on denim. So for that cycle to be broken, for something other than the overly careful tone to grace his ears felt…Good. 

“I would lie to you but you still look like shit.” He hadn’t seen Cali since the beginning of last week, he hadn’t seen anyone since last week. The silence between the two spoke louder than her words that quickly settled. Anderson watched as Cali exhaled with a certain amount of tension, a tension that made a lump form in his throat.

“Is she awake?” He finally spoke, his voice was small and shook as it got caught in his throat. He felt guilty, he felt as if he himself was the one that shot her. He understood now that he lost himself, that a piece of himself chipped off when he killed that man. 

“She lost a lot of blood Michael. More than you.” Cali’s eyes were furrowed upwards in a look of worry and sympathy. The two stared at each other for a moment before Cali sighed almost dramatically “Yes, she’s awake.” She put her cheeks in her hands “But I came here to check on you.”

“And not the victim to a serial killer case we just busted?”

“You mean, the victim, to the serial killer, that you murdered.”

The two sat there in silence for a moment before they both began to let out chuckles, followed by various ow’s and cursing from the sudden pain. “We shouldn’t be laughing.”

“What else can we do? Technically we solved the case, we caught the murderer at the cost of his life.” Cali shrugged, however this wasn’t solved, nor was it over. Anderson could feel that. 

The sight of his home, the brown sliding and grey bricks that made the exterior feel more cozy and welcoming than the white suburban houses in the city. Staring at it felt more bittersweet than he thought. He expected himself to yearn to find himself inside, he expected to race inside and sit himself, no, throw himself down onto the couch in front of the fireplace on the first floor. But he didn’t. Instead he remembered the creature, the monster that stalked and haunted the walls of his home. The creature that seemed to leave his mind in the hospital, but plagued him when he approached the warm house.

Walking up the steps to the porch felt like he was approaching a crime scene, only the crime was one of his own, as if there was something he had done that contradicted himself entirely. He couldn’t bring himself to open the door, he couldn’t turn the knob. “Hey, are you gonna be okay?” Cali stood a few feet behind him, standing on the final step.

He inhaled rough and deep, feeling the stitches on his torso pull at his skin. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He forced himself to open the door, and to his relief, nothing was there. It was just as he left it. Cozy, simple, and his.

The two sat down at the dining table, Anderson physically relaxed as he succumbed to the comfort of familiar wood. “So, therapy.” He said with closed eyes and a head that hung back.

“His name is Dr.Atticus Grohm, he’s a friend of Hanes.” Cali rest her elbows on the table’s surface with her chin in her hand.

“Sounds pretentious.” Anderson mumbled. A friend of Hanes that he hadn’t talked about, it felt off, it felt wrong. Hanes talked about everyone in his life when work was set aside, he wasn’t really private with his life. He talked about his friends, his wife and his children. Often he shared the recent updates about his son’s college adventures to anyone who would listen, and yet he never spoke about Grohm.

“He’s been a psychologist for a decade. Maybe more, but he’s good at what he does. He’s had some good results with-” Cali paused, her expression becoming thin lipped and unsure. Her mind sought after the careful words she could use. Anderson lift his head to look at her with a look that simply told her go on? “With, questionable people.”

“Questionable, people.” Anderson’s tone was flat, as if he could see right through her but truthfully, he couldn’t. His only thoughts were pinned on the oddity surrounding Hanes’s lack of speech about Dr.Grohm. Did he talk about him to other people? Was this his plan all along? To have something happen and finally force him into therapy? 

“Yes, questionable.” Cali swallowed, hoping Anderson would take this simple answer.

“What, kind, of questionable people?” He raised a brow, his tone and expression suddenly became much more suited for interrogation. 

“Ohh y’know…” Cali’s eyes averted from him, suddenly taking much interest in the small potted plants on the kitchen island’s half wall. “Usually, people who uhm…” She scratched her head, furrowing her brows and exhaling “Murderers.” She finally stated, staring at Anderson. “He helps murderers. Or people who have had to kill.”

“There’s a difference?” Anderson scoffed, that’s how she saw him? She saw him as only a murderer now?

“Murder and killing someone has a difference, yes, Michael.” She had a hint of venom in her voice “If you have to kill someone, you’re not able to run away. Fight overtakes flight when you cant flee.” She furrowed her brows.

“And what am I? A murderer or someone who had to kill.” He folded his arms and lowered his head, his light eyes piercing into Cali’s.

“You had to do what you did.”

“Did I?”

“If you didn’t there’s a girl in the hospital that would have died.” Cali leaned back into her seat. “She would have died, who knows maybe both you and John would have died too.” The thought of Hanes dying felt unreal. He had survived more than most people should have.

“...I don’t think he can die.” The thought escaped his lips, perhaps a subconscious attempt to lighten whatever mood that had been dimmed and darkened.

Cali’s glare softened into a gaze, he could never focus on himself. Always diverting into other topics, other people, other places. His silence of himself told her more than she could ever find out if he had spoke to her. She wriggled her way into his life, and she stayed there, she knew she could because his actions spoke louder than his words, he wanted, no, yearned for a friend. She decided that she would bear the burden, not that he was any burden to her. “Michael, are you going to try?” She spoke soft and warm.

He stood in front of the large black doors, he stared in silence, not quite knowing how he should approach this. This eclectic office building with an architectural style that had long since been obsolete. His mind wandered to the small things, what curtains would this room have? What decor? How big was it? Why were it’s doors so large? Then his mind sprung the question, what does he look like? 

The door swung open, a shorter man with unkempt hair and a scraggly beard stood in front of him looking with a bit of shock. He grunted with a quick to take over scowl before seeming to storm off, shortly after a man much taller than Anderson stood looming in the doorway. He was well dressed, though not pretentiously so. It wasn’t any suit and tie, but it was a nicely tucked and smoothed sweater and well fitted tailored dress pants. His hair was also well maintained, these things made Anderson feel suddenly small and almost, insignificant. “Mr.Anderson?” His voice was plummy and silvery, Anderson felt very, insignificant.