Kyle rubbed her eyes tiredly just as her newest patient walked in. He was a young man covered in black clothes and chains, and a nice lip ring to match. Your typical wanna-be tough punk goth. She sighed inwardly as she prepared for a long grueling session of sarcasm and edged words that were what she knew to be only a cover up for insecurities. "I don't need to be here," he stated. Of course. "Of course you don't," she said just as simply, gesturing to the chair in front of her. "Sit. And have some candy if you like." Her eyebrow cocked and sarcasm dripped from her voice. "Perhaps the sweet sugar will melt you up so you tell me all your dirty, disgusting and embarrassing little secrets."
His face shone with a quick look of shock, but it clouded back to the emotionless exterior in hardly a second. "Let's just get this over with," he said, pulling the hair over his eyes. "Alright then," She replied, setting her feet on her desk. If she was going to be stuck here all day, at least she should be comfortable. She deserved that. "So, Damien, that's you name, right? You're here for arson and attempted murder." He nodded. She huffed. "Killers," she said, rolling her eyes. "Think that killing people makes them respect you, when it only makes them dead." She held up the book that Ms. Peterson had written in front of his face. "Have you read this, Damien?"
He sat there with a blank look. She knew why. Her patients could never get over how she dealt with them the first time. They were used to the coddling and the babying and pleading. She knew it only annoyed them. She'd been there. She had hated her psychiatrist. How ironic that she was one now. "Well, I'm waiting. You may be a rebel, but I know you're not dumb." He opened his mouth. "Nope, never. I've heard of it though," he said, trying to maintain that cold, steely voice. "Sounds like a load of shit- you can't make me read it. I don't read." He scowled. "Puh-lease," Kyle replied, equally as metallic. "Why would I let you read this? I don't share my books with my patients." She looked at it before setting it back down. "Besides, it's too radical for your small mind." Then she smiled as sweetly as she could, enjoying his confused expression. "You haven't had a candy yet, Damien. Don't you want a sucker?"
Needless to say, it was probably one of her favorite sessions all afternoon.
***
Maggie was left with no words to say. Karen and Mike were coming here tomorrow. Tomorrow! To get ready for a wedding, for new life! And here comes Chucky, this killer doll, after all these years, to say sorry. Now? Why now? Why couldn't he just stay away from them and bother somebody else? After all he'd done... she couldn't just let him back in, could she? It would be betraying her friends and everyone she loved. She'd already made that mistake once. But there was one thing holding her back from shutting the door on him.
He had come back. He had acknowledged he had done wrong. He had actually realized he had done wrong! He was here, literally on his knees begging for forgiveness, never mind the fact that it was mostly because he was so sick. And he was sick, speaking of which. She would have to be heartless to leave him out here, where it rained and people caught diseases like the plague. He was looking at her with those big blue eyes, and that child-like face. Wait...
"When did you become a real boy?" She felt like Ghepetto. He looked a little surprised, and she couldn't blame him. He had asked for redemption and she responded a silly question like that. "I... It's sort of..." he stuttered, a little thrown off and lost. She waved it away. "Never mind all that, Chucky," she said. She looked around, stalling, making the last argument in her mind about whether to let him in or not. At last, she opened the door a little wider, trying to convince herself this was the right thing to do. "Come on in," she said. His face brightened a tiny bit. "Thank you Ms. Peterson," he whispered. "You won't be sorry, I promise…" He walked in timidly, and his eyes darted around as if he were waiting for something to attack, any moment from now. Johnny was still entertaining the little girls.
Johnny. She had forgotten about him. Chucky looked at him, stared, surprise evident on his face. "I thought you were dead," he said simply in a raspy voice. There was no shock or anger in his voice, he just said it. Johnny stared back, mouth agape, and there was a resounding silence. She had forgotten. She cursed herself. Of course. This had been a bad idea. Why had she done this? The little girls were looking back and forth between them, asking, "Johnny, Johnny, who's that? Who's that? What's the matter?" Maggie felt herself tense. Now would come chaos, and it was all her fault, again. Letting Charles Lee Ray back in again, and now there would be murder, and Karen and Mike would come home to more trauma, and perhaps be sent back to the loony bin for good and never want to come out...
She had been so into her thoughts that she didn't notice the silence. The peace. Johnny had come to the boy's side and knelt down to his height. "Charles," he said softly. The boy sniffed. "I remember you." It was all he said. Then he held the boy's shoulder, and looked at Maggie. The girls had hushed, but they still had questioning eyes about the intruder who had made Uncle Johnny upset. She shook, bringing herself to reality. "Can we...?" Johnny began, gesturing to the girls. Chucky looked blank, but tears were misting on his eyes. Maggie sprung to life. "Of course, of course! Silly me! C'mon girls, let's go watch Cinderella while Johnny, umm... catches up... with some an old friend. Come with Aunt Maggie!" she said, busying herself with picking them up and listening to their chorusing "Cinderella!"
"I thought you were dead," the boy said again. Johnny sighed. "I should be," he said softly. He sat and folded his hands in his lap. "I owe you an apology, Charles," he whispered. "Much more than that, actually, but, I have nothing to offer you." Chucky's eyes widened a bit when the man held his hands to his face in shame. He had not expected this. He didn't know what he had expected, to be honest with himself. This man did not deserve his forgiveness. If it weren't for this man, he would have never been in this mess! He had treated him like merchandise! He had ruined his life...
Just like he had ruined Andy's... And he had not deserved to even walk through the door into this house. So perhaps they all just needed a little forgiveness. He knelt down and grasped the man's hands. "Well," he said slowly, and it felt as if he were released from carrying a boulder. "We all've got a few skeletons in our closet, that's for sure."
***
John Simonsen had been released from the hospital after a long time of intensive care. He was being escorted home by an Officer Jones. She was a friendly lady, with a boisterous voice and a wide smile. "You doin' alright, Mister Simonsen?" she asked as she helped into the back of her car. "Doin' fine, Ma'am, thank you," he replied with a grin. She hopped in the front and started the engine. "Just tell me where to turn, Mister Simonsen," she said, turning to see out behind her before backing out. "You live out in the hood?" He laughed. "Yup. I sure do, Ma'am. You be catching them kids out in the streets?" She nodded. "Mmmhmm. I sure do. I sure do. See my daughter here?" she pointed to a photo of her. "My Quanisha. I taught her to do none of that, stealing. Her daddy got busted, and we ain't seen him since, he been drinkin' and smokin' and wastin' time. Finally divorced him." John looked out the window. "I'm sorry Ma'am," he said.
She laughed, and it sounded like sunshine was blowing through instead of the air conditioning. "Don't be, honey! It's like getting rid of a load, it is. I had made a bad choice, tryin' to move in with him in high school. We had my 'Nisha girl before I done graduated." She touched the picture lovingly before stopping at a red light. " My 'Nisha's a pop star now. She done take good care of herself," she said quietly. "I'm real proud of her." John said nothing; he only nodded and pointed "Down here, when they were close to his small house. She stopped up on the side of the lawn and opened the door for him. "Thank you so much, Missus Jones," he said politely. "Ain't nothing, honey. You need help anytime, just call me. Roshonda Jones, Mmhmm." She pulled out a piece of paper from her notepad and a pen to write her number. He nodded. "Yes. Ma'am. I will. I will. Thank you again."
He had made it to the door before she drove off, and not without her reminding him to call again. He smiled. She must be living alone. She showed that loneliness a person like her would show. He looked at the number. Then he dialed it. "Already, Mr. Simonsen? That was fast!" he could hear her laugh. Like bells. "What you need, honey?" He laughed. "Not much really." He twirled the phone cord around his fingers. "I was just wondering if you'd like to go get some coffee sometime."
There was a silence for some time. Then she said, "I'd like that, Mr. Simonsen. I'd like that very much."
***
'Nisha had had to leave, but not before saying good-bye to her friends. Krista hugged her tight. "Good-bye, Quanisha. Don't forget to write me." 'Nisha nodded. "Girl, I got you. I leave the fan mail to Lanika and Lil' Shawn, when they ain't making out," she said, elbowing Lanika playfully and making her friend laugh. "But your letters? I'll read them myself!" She looked at Andy. "You write me too, Andy," she said before squeezing him tight. Then she turned and left, Lil' Shawn and Lanika saying their good-byes before following behind.
Krista and Andy were silent as the Quanisha and her friends loaded the bus. There was the sound of the engine, and then the bus drove down the old road, leaving a trail of dust behind. Krista was watching Andy's face, the shifting of expressions as he appeared deep in thought. "You know," Krista began softly. "I saw him. Charlie." Andy nodded. "I know who it is, Krista," he responded in a voice that sounded like one awakening from a dream. "I know who he is. We both do." Krista sighed and hooked her arm around Andy's in comfort. "He was looking for you," she said finally, trying to break the tension, as they headed back towards the academy. When he didn't reply, she went on. "What are you going to do?"
There was still only the morning silence for a few minutes. But as they rounded the center plaza, Andy finally answered her. "When I first came here, I was having a little trouble deciding something in my life. But then something came up," he looked down at his hand thoughtfully, "and I've found my answer." He was looking away, watching the other people come out of their bunkers, the noise of life waking up the earth. Krista looked up at him. Her eyes were searching his face. "What was it?" she asked, curious.
He looked back at her, brown eyes golden with the rising sun. "Forgiveness," he said softly, so that she almost thought she'd imagined it. "I was having a little trouble with forgiveness."