You look at the car's clock as she lists the innane tasks she has yet to accomplish before joining her family for their stupid Christmas Eve traditions.
You feel your blood racing. The rage doesn't happen often, and you can usually control it, but for whatever reason you don't want to.
"Shut up!" you yell angrily. Startled, Juliet jumps and turns to you. She can't tell if you're being serious. For a split second, you're not sure either.
It feels like you're at the edge of a precipice, and, for some reason, she's just pushed you off.
"I don't care what errands you have to run!" you snap, opening the car door. "You're an inconsiderate ass. Thanks for wasting my time!"
Marching off, you punch Gus's number into your cell. That wimpy little pain in the ass better answer.
You hear a muffled sob, but you don't bother to turn around. Even the sight of Lassiter slicing the paper off his car with his keys doesn't bring you any joy.
You go home and wallow in this new anger. You don't answer your dad's calls, you don't answer Gus's calls, and after a few television marathons Christmas is over.
You don't hear from the SBPD again. You and Gus keep Psych open for three months after your last case, but it's a money pit and Gus doesn't like your new mean streak anyway. He starts to avoid you, which is all too well because you hit the bottle pretty hard.
Eventually Gus and your father try to have an intervention, but it doesn't work. In fact, it only makes you angrier.
You storm off, get wasted at some hole in the wall, and go jump off a bridge.
Your bloated corpse washes to shore two days later. No one is surprised.
THE END
This chapter was really difficult to write.
