17. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
A dam sat in one of the common rooms made to look like a living room in someone’s home. This room was for guests to meet with patients. To make visitors feel comfortable. So they didn’t have to be confronted with the fact they’d locked their family members away for their own good.
The doctors had stitched him up and put him on several medications. They helped him see things more clearly, but that didn’t alleviate the remorse that consumed him.
Somehow, in the last year, his desperate need to have someone understand him, to see him as his own person, and that he was spiraling in his loneliness had turned into a fixation with Brooke that turned deadly.
He didn’t know how he’d gone from wanting to have coffee with her to obsessing over their brief conversations and creating a fantasy world in which he was her secret admirer. A delusion in which she knew all too well it was him and loved that they had a secret relationship.
He’d had other bouts of depression, but not this kind of total mental meltdown.
Even now, thinking about it, wondering how he’d duped himself into believing she wanted him to buy her those gifts, to watch over her on campus, to learn to be the man she needed him to be so he could go to her and show her how much he loved her… It was crazy.
It wasn’t real.
Yes, she’d been his friend. But nothing more.
And he’d ruined even that.
He’d rationalized it all in his mind with irrational excuses for what he’d done.
She hadn’t known he was the one doing those things.
She’d reported his activities to the police and told them she was scared.
He’d thought she’d loved the attention. He’d done it to please her, so that she knew she wasn’t ever alone.
And that freaked her out.
Because it was crazy for him to think she wanted someone to stalk her every move and send her things that were personal and that she liked without ever approaching her and telling her it was him, and that he just wanted to make her happy if she’d let him.
And that was the lie he had told himself again and again.
She wanted me to do it.
She wanted me.
But now he knew better. Now he had a clear head. Now he knew what he’d done. To her.
To those other girls.
Oh God. What have I done?
Right and wrong got crossed in his haywire brain.
In the moment, he’d thought everything he’d done leading up to confronting Brooke was just him experimenting like college kids did all the time. But it had been dark and twisted.
And Brooke and the others paid the price for his obsession.
He stared at his mom’s perfectly done up face and saw the lie there mixed with the truth in her eyes. She was embarrassed, ashamed, and a little scared of him now. “Did you give her my letter? What did she say? Will she come? I need to see her.” He had no right to ask her to come. But he hoped. And he needed. He couldn’t shut it off. It’s all he thought about now.
Yes, he knew it was what got him into this trouble, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
His mother pressed her lips tight and looked to his father for the answer she didn’t want to say to him.
His father sighed and gave him that you’re so exasperating look. “I’ve told you a dozen times, she doesn’t want to see you. We came today to find out how you are and if you’re progressing with your treatment.”
Adam ignored all that. “But you gave her my letters. She read them.”
His mother leaned over and reached out to touch his knee but pulled her hand back at the last second. “Adam, honey, Brooke is upset. She’s grieving. She’s traumatized. You understand that, right?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “She lost her child.”
Of course he knew that. They didn’t need to tell him. He’d seen what he’d done. It was bad. So bad. But he couldn’t help it. It had just come over him. He’d lost it.
He had to make her understand.
“Adam.” His mom snapped out his name to get his attention again. “We haven’t been able to talk to her.”
He leaned toward her, and she leaned back. “That’s why I asked you to give her the letters. I need to see her,” he demanded.
“It’s never going to happen.” His father rested his forearms on his thighs and hung his head. “You need to focus on you and getting better.”
“I need to see her .”
“She doesn’t want to see you. I can’t even get a meeting with her. And if she goes to the police and tells them you are the one who attacked her… Well, you can kiss this hospital goodbye, because you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison. Stop thinking about her and think about yourself. So far I’ve been able to keep any connection between your attempted suicide and the campus stalker attacking Brooke from creeping into the police investigation or reporters’ questions. If Brooke comes here…if you contact her…I won’t be able to keep that a secret. Someone will leak something. I hope you’ve been careful with what you tell the doctors and nurses here.”
Adam sighed. His father didn’t get it. Adam didn’t care what happened to him. “I just want to talk to her. Can you set up a phone call? Something. You’re the fucking governor. Make her do it.” He stomped his foot, earning him another glare from his parents.
His father’s stern gaze held his. “Make her. Like you tried to make her be your girlfriend. I couldn’t make her talk to me in the hospital because she was so broken and grief-stricken she couldn’t stop crying long enough to hear what I had to say. Make her! I won’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do for you. Not after what you’ve done. Not after you ruined your life and could quite possibly destroy my life’s work.”
Adam tried to be contrite, even though he wanted to rage at his father for making him this way. “Please. Can’t you try? If she read my letter, then she knows I’m sorry.”
“What good is sorry to her after what you did? The best we can hope for is that she never utters your name ever again. That is the only thing I am willing to do for you.”
Adam eyed his father, seeing the calculation and resignation. “What does that mean?”
“I will talk to her again. When she’s feeling better and has had time to think. Hopefully she’ll come to the same conclusion she silently agreed to in the hospital, that you’re better off here than in a jail cell.” His father fell back in his seat and stared up at the ceiling. “If people knew…” He pressed the back of his fist to his forehead.
Adam leaned in and let his hatred show. “That’s the only thing you care about. What people will say. What will happen to you. I need to see her! I can make this right!”
His dad sprung up from his seat and towered over Adam. “No you can’t! Nothing will make this right! Her baby is dead!”
His dad walked out and slammed the door behind him, leaving Adam flinching and alone with his mom.
He turned to her. “Please. Won’t you do this one thing for me?”
“No,” she snapped. “I will not push your needs on a grieving mother.”
“He didn’t send her my letters, did he?”
“Adam…”
“Right. Of course he didn’t.”
Her stern face softened. “If you really care about Brooke, you’ll leave her alone and let her recuperate in private.”
“I want to help her heal.” Adam pulled the paper out of the back of his pants. “Please, give her this.”
His mother took it, then stood. “I better go find your father. Please listen to the doctors. Do what they say. Take your meds. And remember that your father and I are only trying to protect you.” She walked out on him then, too.
He stood, went to the door, and looked out at the two of them, standing with his doctor. His mom said something to his father, then handed the letter over to him. He crushed it in his hand and stuffed it in his inside coat pocket.
Ever the gentleman, he shook the doctor’s hand and walked to the elevator with his mom.
Adam wondered if they planned to ever come back and see him again, or if they’d just leave him here for the rest of his life, out of sight, out of mind like always.
Well, if they wouldn’t do what he needed them to do, he’d have to find a way to do it himself.
He owed Brooke.
He’d see her again.