Leah hands me the unlabeled folder over her desk. I wander to the couch and sit, looking blankly at the blue folder laying in my lap. All my answers about Brooke’s death may be in here, so why am I hesitating?
I know she suffered. I knew it from Jason’s guilty expression to Leah’s answer the first time I asked her. That’s why it hurts all the more. I look over to Leah, who intensely reads my mother’s case, her elbow propped on her desk, the other on the open papers. She stares intently but i know if i ran she’d be on me in a second. Her braids are looser, falling over her back and shoulders. Her black long sleeve top is simple but it doesn’t hide the hint of a tattoo on her collarbone. The silver chain around her neck stands bright against her skin. I wonder whether it's important to her?
I tilt my head, “why did you lie to me before?”
“Hmm?” Leah lifts her head so we make eye contact.
“You lied to me when I first asked.”
“It’s simple. Knowing your friend suffered wouldn’t change anything. It would just make it more difficult to deal with.” Leah looks back down at her desk.
Difficult to deal with, huh? Not that I would hurt more? I’m not so certain. She seems cold but everyone before was ready to strike at me the moment i posed a threat to her, so she must be respected highly. And they don’t seem completely afraid of her either, not like the mob bosses you see in the movies that would shoot someone if they messed up slightly. Maybe she’s found a balance between ‘boss’ and ‘friend’?
This has nothing to do with me. I squeeze my fingers into my palms tightly once and then release again, trying to steal my nerves.
I open the folder and begin to read.
I scan over the first page, basic details you use for any form. Full name, date of birth etc.
I zero in on their hypothesis of attack.
Burglary?
What?
“They’re claiming it's a home invasion?” I ask aloud.
Just like mum.
“Seems that way” Leah replies, closing her own folder and looking over at me. She’s wanting to judge my reaction, I think.
“But if it’s as brutal as I think it is, wouldn’t a burglary seem out of character?” I voice, more to myself than Leah, trying to sort my own thoughts out. “And burglarising just one apartment in a huge apartment building? We’re only in our twenties, we don’t even have anything worth stealing. Nothing some stranger would see anyway.”
“That’s what I thought as well.”
“But surely the cops would have thought of all this? And wouldn’t they just try to steal when neither of the occupants are home? I’m certain now.”
“Certain of what?”
“This was because of me,” I sigh.
“You didn’t think it was originally?”
“Of course I did” I cry angrily, standing up. “Maybe I just held out some hope that the report would convince me it actually had nothing to do with me and I could lessen the guilt that’s killing me.” I slump back onto the couch.
I slowly make my way through pages till I feel a smoother surface on the edge of my fingertip. Photos attached to the autopsy report. I inhale deeply as I flip the page so the photos are exposed.
So much blood. My eyes can’t help but take in every gruesome detail, every wound and bruise.
Oh my god.
I drop the papers and they scatter but I don't care as I run and slam through the doors, collapsing onto the asphalt as my heart hammers against my ribcage, threatening to break through.
I hear voices but I can't hear them over the rapid thumping in my head. I gasp rapidly, unable to catch my breath.
“Please let me through! It’s my house” I cry, trying to shove the police officer off me.
“Miss, you can’t go in there, I'm sorry. It's an active crime scene” the man says gently.
“Mum!” I cry, “where’s my mum? She was home when I left, where is she?”
The silence from the officers is deafening and I can't stand it. I grab one of them and knee them in the crotch and they instantly go down, releasing me. I run full speed, ducking under the yellow tape as people cry out to grab me but I manage to push into the living room before I'm grabbed from behind.
“Mum? Mum!” I scream, my arms pinned down as I shriek, trying to breakthrough to get to her on the ground. “Let me go! She needs me! Mum!”
“Valerie!” Someone yells loudly into my ears and I'm yanked up onto my knees, Leah’s face blurry through my tears. She waves something to someone and turns back to me. “What is it? What should I do?”
“Exercises” I gasp out, trying to calm my breathing.
“What?”
“One thing I can see. Leah. One thing I can touch,” I say quietly, my chest heaving as I place my hand on her thigh, as she kneels in front of me, her denim jeans rough, the texture helping the fog clear. “One thing i can smell” i try to make out a scent and the light aroma of vanilla filters in. “One thing i can hear” the chatter from inside. “One thing i can taste” but the only thing i can taste is the dryness in my mouth. I let all the senses hone in on each detail, distracting myself from losing myself to the panic of what I've seen and what I've realised.
“Valerie?” a hand tentatively touches my shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly.
I huff breathlessly, trying to compartmentalise everything into categories, trying to keep my mind from splitting in agony.
“I-i-i I’m sorry. I’m okay” I whisper, clenching Leah’s hand on my shoulder.
“Are you sure? Do I need to get Jason?” the uncertainty in her voice and her inability to handle me having an attack making me laugh breathlessly. “Why are you laughing?”
“You’re terrifying but when a girl has a panic attack you have no idea what to do.” I laugh. “Sorry, just trying to defuse the tension” I say honestly, my breathing regaining its rhythm slowly.
“Glad my shortcomings amuse you” she replies gruffly, “can you let go of my hand now?”
“Sorry” I say, letting it go and shakily getting to my feet. I take a deep breath, shoving my emotions to the background. I need to if I'm going to survive the next few minutes. I need to do this. For them, for the people I love. “I need my mother’s file as well. Can I use your office floor?” I ask, walking back towards the open glass doors that I broke through to get outside. I finally take in my surroundings and notice I'm in a large vacant concrete area, surrounded by other tall buildings, the only exits, the alleyways between the buildings.
I walk into the office and grab my mothers file from Leah’s desk and grab the scattered papers of Brooke’s and organise them so they’re in order again.
I take another deep breath and look to Leah to confirm I can use her floor. She gives a nod.
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