Catharsis was originally meant to be a one-shot, but I realized that that only gave the aftermath, not the cause. So consider this a prequel. Please read & review!
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"How long?" She was numb.
"An hour ago."
Gillian shook her head knowing that her mom couldn't see, "How long did he know?"
Gillian could feel her mother's pitying sigh, the breathe crashed over Gillian. No phone reception could drown out the sound. Her eyelids collapsed shut.
"Six months" the words were spoken gently but the implication was a knife in the back.
He had known for months that the end was near. He hadn't told her. Hadn't called.
Guilt.
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Ghosts entwine themselves with the shadows. Enable the trance she is currently savoring. She thinks of how people will inquire, "How could you not know?". She thinks of how she will look away from the disapproval in their eyes.
She looks at the video, recognizes the disgust, the disappointment, the pain. Identifies with it, informs Loker of it.
Her translation of the content elicits an inquiring, "Are you sure?"
She nods with a confidence that she doesn't feel. Loker notices, thinks about pointing out the contempt, the flittering happiness at the mention of an accident, but his faith is consigned to Gillian and he doesn't object when she responds, "I'm sure".
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She watches in shock as a father murders his own son. Sees the unconcealed contempt. Obvious, is what registers in her mind. Yet, she had missed it. She had missed it and a man-a boy- was dead. She sees Loker glancing at her for guidance, for absolution. But she can't grant it.
She missed it. She missed the fact that her father was dying, neglected to prevent the death of an innocent boy.
She slides out of the conference room to seek out the silence entrapped in the confines of her office.
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"Are you alright, luv?" Cal hesitantly enters her office. The question is like an eruption, it shatters her security.
"He's dead," she says, the words are entrancing.
"It wasn't your fault. The man was intent on killing his son, there was no-" He stops as he sees Gillian shaking her head with a quiet laugh.
"My father, he's dead," the blank stare the statement withdrew scared Cal more than any gun ever had.
"When?" is all Cal manages to force pass his lips.
"Yesterday," she answers as if the question asked held the least significance of any that might follow.
"Darling, what are you doing here?" She wonders whether he means at work or sitting, head in her hands, on the couch.
"Forgetting," is the answer that seems appropriate.
"Forgetting?" it is an incredulous repetition, a show of disbelief. "Forgetting what?"
"Everything," she breaths, "and nothing". A tear breaks through her barriers. She quickly wipes away the evidence.
"I'm taking you home," Cal states expecting a protest but Gillian only nods.
"I'll meet you in front," Cal takes one more look at her and forces himself to leave.
Gillian stands up as if the weight of the world is pulling her in the opposite direction.
"It is my fault" she confesses to the darkness.
She backs out of the room and walks down the empty hallway, the glare of the sign proclaiming "The Lightman Group" calling out to her, encouraging her. The glow was enveloping, beckoning. She wanted to fade in to the lights. She wanted peace, wanted catharsis.