“I got a letter in the mail today, from her parents. It was allabout how they hoped I’d burn in hell, that good stuff. They wrote about how pretty her eyes were, how kind she was, how many friends she had; man it was a long letter.”
My therapist looks at me, cocking her head to the side with a smirk, muttering, “That’s about right.”
She clears her throat and asks more clearly, “And you feel nothing? Not even remorse?”
I smile widely at her doing my best to seem authentic. “I think I’ve cried enough, Doc, don’t you?”
I fold up the letter and catch a glimpse of a single word: forgiven.
I finish, calmly placing it into my jumper pocket. Doc wants to see me burn, I can tell from the way she looks at her notes, that gleam in her eyes when she looks back at me.
“I see.” She writes on her notepad, glancing at me. And there’s that twinkle in her eyes again. “This is your last evaluation before sentencing, Sophie. Do you want to share anything else with me?”
My smile disappears as the guard comes for me. The bags under my eyes are heavy from the long nights up, watching my rapist roommate.
“We both know they’ll give me the needle, Doc. It won’t change anything.”
Eight months ago I killed Maggie Crowley. I guess you could say we were friends.