I've been thinking a lot about my past. It started with my thoughts of finally winning Darling William over, but then I went right back to the murders with Angelina.
During the case, as it were, I had never really thought about what would happen afterwards, meaning that in the end I was unprepared and took it all terribly badly.
William had taken me back to the dispatch in disgrace, forcing me to walk with my modified scythe in my arms as he led me to the infirmary. It was a relief and a surprise to find myself with no broken bones, but my other injuries hurt so terribly that I could barely stand, and everything was hazy from having Will jump on my head. He cleaned me up and treated my wounds, scolding me all the while and hurting me horribly before dragging me to his office to talk to me.
It was only when I was sat down again that it suddenly dawned on me that I had killed Madame, whom I had grown close to in her time of need. I had grown to love her, helping her take her revenge on the thoughtless women who had so willing thrown away what she wanted most in the world. I couldn't take it. I sat sobbing, holding my head in both hands as the realisation kicked in. I had killed my friend. It was one thing aiding her gruesome revenge but ending her life was another thing entirely. While it was spur of the moment in anger it was also releasing her from the fate she had if she remained on Earth. She would no doubt have been killed by her own kin or turned in to Scotland Yard.
William just watched me as I had the panic attack. My body went into an unknown frenzy as I clung to the coat I had newly acquired. I couldn't believe what I had done with now no seeming knowledge and I regretted it with every bone in my body.
Once I had eventually calmed down William questioned me, asking why I had done, who had drove me to it, what made me agree to aid Madame and lastly what I thought about it. That last question was the worst. I cried truthfully that every murder I helped with was a blur, that I couldn't remember it clearly and didn't know what I was doing anymore.
My terrible reactions afterwards must have shown me some justice. When the verdict came through it barely affected me as I was still in such a haze. I remember being told that I had been brainwashed and manipulated, and that I had done it unknowingly. I didn't answer. It was as though my memory was fading more every minute, leaving the blur of it behind.
At least once a week I was sent to talk to someone. For the first session I just cried, still mourning the loss I had caused and everything else that had happened in the aftermath. It did get better after that. That hour every week made a difference, giving me a chance to vent my frustration about being demoted, about the way people whispered about me and generally everything else that was bothering me.
Eventually I was allowed to stop having those hours every week, but not until after I was back on my original rank and had payed my due for my mistakes.
I still see him around the dispatch sometimes. He knows a lot about me and he could tell anyone but so far he's been faithfully to my confidentiality and has kept everything secret. He still asks me how I am, encouraging me from the sidelines and saying I can always talk to him if I need to.
With everything happening recently, I might take him up on that offer, if I have the energy and courage to go to him again.