Epilogue One
Rolling my shoulders, I exhale sharply in an effort to hype myself up.
Without succeeding, I push open the glass door of the red brick building anyway.
I’ve been meaning to make this visit for a while, but the timing has never seemed quite right.
There’s always been an excuse ready. Court dates, hospital check-ins, Harper needing me, or the simpler truth that I wasn’t ready.
Guilt has a way of disguising itself behind excuses.
I step into the main lobby, finding a small waiting area to my right and a glass-enclosed counter to my left.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but the cheery man behind the desk wasn’t it.
Maybe a uniformed guard with a gun strapped to his chest, or orderlies in blue scrubs with a syringe perpetually at the ready.
Instead, the receptionist’s attire is relaxed.
A faded rock band T-shirt and jeans, coffee-colored hair that far exceeds the length of mine.
He looks like he should be arguing about vinyl records in a bar, not manning the front desk of a mental health facility.
After waiting to be called forward, I approach the desk. “I’m here to visit Kenneth Dockerson.” The man, whose nametag labels him as Bert, fails to hide his surprise before smoothing it over with a polite smile.
He slides a stack of forms across the counter and asks me to fill them out.
I borrow his pen and lean against the counter since I’m the only visitor who’s shown up today.
That alone should tell me something, but I had ripples of anxiety about this long before I hopped out of my truck.
Accepting the forms back, Bert copies my details onto his keyboard, his smile tight.
“You’ll be the first visitor Kenneth has had,” Bert says lightly.
“Do you know him well?” I grunt in response, not knowing how to fully answer.
Once, I thought I did. Now I have my reservations that anyone knows Kenneth well, including himself.
Keeping my eyes fixed on the sign behind his head, Bert fills the silence instead of focusing on his typing.
“He’s such a kind and gentle kid. It’ll be good for him to have someone to talk to.
” The printer by his elbow whirs to life, printing a label-sized page attached to a red lanyard.
Bert’s own lanyard is green, I note as he passes mine over the separating desk.
“My colleague will take you from here. Welcome to Langton State Mental Hospital, Mr. Michaels. "
The colleague, a woman with a slicked-back bun and a much more serious demeanor than Brett, asks me to follow her beyond a restricted door and to a set of lockers in the next room.
“We don’t allow visitors to take personal belongings into the institution.
Can never be too careful.” She gestures to the locker nearest. With a shrug, I dump my bag and phone inside, lock it, and pocket the key in my jeans just as a large security guard steps inside with a handheld metal detector.
After a brief once-over, I’m permitted entry down a corridor along the outskirts of the building.
This part is exactly as I’d expected. White walls, closed doors and keypads.
I can only imagine what the rooms look like, padded cells and pacing straightjackets.
However, the staffing seems to be minimal, and the air is calm, lacking the occasional screams I’d anticipated.
Everything that should put me at ease somehow does the opposite.
At the end of the corridor, double doors open and I’m ushered inside with a quiet instruction to make myself comfortable.
Similar to the main entrance lobby, this room is eerily empty, and I’m left wondering if I missed visitation day.
Facing rows of low, cushioned chairs separated by coffee tables, I wander between a few before selecting one about a third of the way down.
Close enough to remain by the door but not too close to already have one foot out of it.
There, I alternate between drumming my fingers on my jeans and picking at a rogue thread on the hem of my white T-shirt whilst taking in anything and everything I can.
I’m under strict orders to report back in vivid detail.
A shutter at the back marks a kitchen hatch, which is currently closed. Inspirational quotes line the walls, each one about small steps, second chances, and beginnings disguised as endings. And that’s when the real waiting begins. A yawn sneaks up on me, wishing I’d brought a book with me.
Harper came up with the idea of a book club that consists only of her, me, and Addy, with the intention of sharing our thoughts and opinions in sign language. I said yes because communicating with her in sign makes her smile in a way no one else gets to experience. Cough, cough, Rhys.
The downside is that Addy got to pick the first book, and now I’m reading a retelling of Malice in Wonderlust with the Tweedle twins as vampire strippers.
Not how I expected to be spending my Wednesday and Thursday evenings now that Rhys stays over at his parents' two nights a week. They have a lot of rebuilding to do, figuratively and literally. The release of their funds means they can start over, and resume their lives with the best care money can buy for his mom. Whatever time she has left, I’m thankful Rhys gets to be a part of it.
Finally, a door opens. I straighten abruptly, realizing I’d slouched almost horizontal in my seat.
A petite woman steps in, a clipboard in one hand and the other resting gently on Kenneth’s shoulder.
There are no cuffs. No restraints. Just the same red-haired boy I remember, walking toward me with hesitant steps.
His head stays ducked as the woman introduces herself as his counsellor before sitting a short distance away.
I rest my elbows on my knees and watch Kenneth settle into the chair opposite me.
“I didn’t expect to see you again,” he mutters.
Everything I rehearsed evaporates. I tried multiple times to imagine who I’d meet in this facility.
The roommate who babbles incessantly. The version of him with a dangerous edge that Harper warned me about ahead of this visit.
All of that preparation for nothing, because I barely recognize the person sitting opposite.
He’s skinny, worryingly so. His skin is ashy, as if the brightness has been turned down on his freckles. Even his curly hair is limp, but it’s Kenneth’s muddy brown eyes that strike me the most because they’re half-lidded and unfocused.
I look to the counsellor, opening my mouth to ask just how strong his medication is, but then I remember, I’m not his advocate.
I’m barely his friend, though I can ask Rhys’ lawyer to check it out.
Wow, it really is easy to shake responsibility with the right money and connections.
Instead, I clear my throat and look around the room again.
“Why is it so quiet here?”
Kenneth glances around, the pinch of his features relaxing ever-so slightly. He’s grateful for the distraction.
“This wing is for people in custody who haven’t been tried yet. There’s only a handful of us. Not many visitors.” He hesitates, his voice laced with dejection. “People tend to disown their friends and family when they hurt them.” Kenneth’s gaze falls to his lap, passing over his grey sweats.
“Except for Harper,” I add. Suddenly, his whole face lights up, a smile chasing away the tension like sunlight breaking through clouds. I huff a small laugh beneath my breath and think, there he is.
“How is she?” He scoots forward so I can see him without the shadow of his hair cast over his face.
The artificial lighting catches on a fading bruise beneath his left eye and a healing split in his lip.
When he props his face in his hands, his sleeves slip back, revealing neat rows of bandages around his wrists.
My chest tightens despite myself. I didn’t come here to feel sorry for him, but it’s hard not to when the evidence of his pain is laid bare.
“She’s great,” I say quickly, for both our sakes. “She’s…worried about you.” Instead of being pleased by this, Kenneth stiffens then, retreating into himself, knees pulled up defensively.
“I don’t deserve her kindness.” Kenneth’s face lowers into his knees, putting a physical divider between us.
I say nothing, because I don’t wholly disagree.
He may not deserve a jail sentence, and I’m glad he’s on the path to getting the help he needs, but Harper’s kindness?
That’s something I value far too highly.
She may be able to forgive easily, but after the slutty photos, the fire, the stalking, and that’s before I even consider how Kenneth humiliated me and vandalized Jeremy’s jacket…
Let’s just say, my forgiveness is going to take a while longer.
Sensing my train of thought, Kenneth peeks up, his face becoming blotchy.
“Why are you here?” That’s the golden question. I clear my throat again, stalling as I carefully pick through the responses that come to mind. I didn’t come here to fight, brag or hurt.
“Harper wanted to visit, but I suggested that I should clear the air with you first. Give us the chance to say whatever it is that should have been said long before now.” Kenneth nods, slowly starting to relax like a frightened animal realizing he’s not being ambushed.
“Harper cares about you, and I’m going to spend my life making her happy, so here I am.
Willing to try and clear the air whilst we still can. ”
The counsellor scribbles notes, but I barely notice. Holding Kenneth’s gaze, I try to gauge what he’s thinking, and as always, I come up empty. After a full minute, he nods once.
“I hated you,” he admits quietly. “I wanted to ruin your life until I met you properly. Then, I wanted you to like me, or I wanted to be like you. You had Harper, and your mom was always kind to me. Everything just got… tangled.” Burying his face in his hands again, Kenneth saves me from seeing him cry.
I wait until he drags his hands down his face, eyes wet and wide, letting him confront me how I wish he had from the start.
“I went to your hearings. I heard you confess to Antonio’s death.
You admitted it,” Kenneth starts to ramble, a sliver of clarity returning to his eyes.
The counsellor shifts, her face uncomfortable as if that’s not supposed to be happening.
Sensing we don’t have long, I raise my hands in surrender, keeping my voice calm.
“I know from experience that feeling responsible and being guilty aren’t the same thing.
I didn’t pull the trigger on your cousin.
I didn’t raise the alarm. Just like I didn’t ask my brother to take a bullet meant for me.
We both lost someone that night. The difference is, my grief was beaten out of me behind bars. Yours was left to rot.”
Kenneth stares at the table between us for so long, I worry I’ve broken something irreparable.
Maybe I have, but sometimes breaking is the first step toward healing.
I rise slowly, sensing the end of the conversation.
I promised Harper I would check on him, and I have.
I wanted to clear the air and put my guilt to rest, which I have.
“I understand acting out of heartache,” I tell him, “but I was never your enemy. I think you know that now. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you went through all of this alone.
” Content with saying my peace, I turn to leave as Kenneth shoots to his feet.
His counsellor does too, her hand flying to the radio on the belt of her pencil skirt.
“But… what do I do now?” Kenneth asks, his voice is small and lost. Stepping forward, I put Kenneth and myself at arm’s length of one another. Slowly, I reach out and place a gentle hand on his shoulder so I can stare directly into his eyes.
“You get better. You serve your time. You remember the girl who believed in you so fiercely that she stood between you and a bullet. You honor Antonio by choosing a life he never got to finish. And one day, when you’re ready, you build something good.
You still have a future, Kenneth. Harper has never doubted that. ”
The first tear slips down Kenneth’s cheek.
He touches my arm with a trembling hand, and to the counsellor’s astonishment, I pull him into a hug.
I hear her gasp over the sound of Kenneth’s sobs soaking into my shirt, his grip desperate and childlike.
He lost everyone who was meant to guide him, as I did.
But that’s no longer true for me, so maybe it doesn’t have to be for him either.
I pull back, reassuring him with a small smile.
“Don’t forget to write to Harper. She’d bust my balls if I didn’t tell you that.
” A tiny laugh bubbles from Kenneth, a hint of my loony roommate slipping through the haze of medication he’s on.
Giving him a solid pat on the back, I walk away with relief spreading through my chest. My knuckles rap on the door, and as I’m escorted out, I finally breathe easier.
Despite Harper’s insistence that this visit was only for Kenneth’s sake, I find myself smirking at her little tricks. She’s fully aware that some burdens only lift when you finally face them, that little minx.