Chapter 29

"Wake up! Red, if you can hear me, wake up!"

Murphy's voice was panicked and far away but as I looked around me I saw nothing but the floor and the walls around me crumble away to reveal the all too familiar red colored canyons. I tried to focus on his voice as it desperately tried to bring me back to reality, but his face flashing before my eyes kept me locked away inside my own terrifying nightmare. The image of him being shoved off the ledge of one of the canyons and landing on the jagged rocks below is what finally jolted me awake and out of my nightmare.

The worse part of these nightmares, especially when I'm by myself, is that I can feel my entire being trying to wake me up to no avail. It's like a constant movie reel playing in my head that refuses to stop playing until those final images are revealed. I can feel my body trying to levitate off the mattress, I can hear gasping as the air is being cut off in my throat, I can feel my lungs locking up and the tears steadily streaming from my eyes onto the pillow; my face contorting into a mix of pain, fear, agony, and anger.

A strong pair of arms wound around my neck and a rough set of calloused hands tangled in my hair was the only thing keeping from flying out of bed to seek refuge in the corner. It did not stop my sister however, from nearly breaking the door in when the sounds of my screaming filled the apartment. Murphy's voice telling her the door was unlocked was all she needed before it flung open, hitting the wall behind it.

Despite the darkness, there was a full moon out tonight that shone in through the bedroom window. In the light of the moon, I could barely make out the shadows that played on the walls. Through watery eyes I could see one in front of me, one behind me, and mine in the middle struggling to break free. As the movie reel started replaying once more before my eyes a thought flitted across my mind: break free from this confinement, open the window, and end it all. To go the way he did by my own doing.

What would the twins think if these thoughts ever formulated into words?

"Was it another nightmare?" she asked, her voice coming from somewhere behind me as my level of fear ratcheted up another notch and I tried breaking out of Murphy's embrace. "Just let go of her; holding onto her like that is only going to make her struggle more."

My sister's voice brought me out of my head as I started to realize just how much of a struggle I was putting up. Murphy was trying to keep me anchored to reality, to the here and now. My sister on the other hand, was trying to pry Murphy's hands off of me; allowing me the exit that I desperately sought whether it was through a glass window, to a corner. An exit that would allow me to be anywhere but this bed.

The second Murphy started relaxing the grip he had on me, I flew out of his arms and straight to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me. Before tonight, my nightmares of him had been pretty standard, tonight was the first time that I had ever brought others inside. I wasn't sure which was more terrifying: an omen that spelled out Connor and Murphy's deaths or that he was going to haunt me until I died. I never let anyone get close to me after he died because I never wanted them to see me the way Murphy just did. The overwhelming thoughts that consumed my mind started making me nauseous; the bile and acidic taste sprang up on my tongue as the contents of my stomach worked their way up.


"Don't take offense to it she just needs her space and some time to calm herself down. C'mon, let's go into the kitchen; we can check on her in a little bit. You may want to put some clothes on while you're at it since you and I have some things to talk about."

"Are ya sure she's gonna be okay? She sure as shit doesn't look like it. Maybe I should go check on her."

"You do that and she'll tear your head clean off your shoulders. This is exactly what I was talking about yesterday when I told you her nightmares can be pretty fucking intense. The question you should be asking is whether or not you can really handle that level of intensity. Trust me when I say that I've seen worse than that; it's another reason why she committed herself in the first place: she was afraid that she was going to end up hurting herself and no one would be there to wake her up if it got to that point.

"It sounds like something out of a Freddy Krueger movie but I've seen it happen; she was staying the night at my place one night while Sam was out of town, she fell off the couch and landed head first on the corner of the coffee table. I ran out of the bedroom when she started screaming and found her lying in a pile of broken glass and bent metal thrashing around like she was having a seizure. I had to call 9-1-1 and have them take her to the hospital to make sure she didn't hurt herself too bad. Her psychiatrist back home told her to keep a daily journal of all the nightmares she had each night and to rate them on a scale of 1 to 10 of how bad they were. Anything over a 10 she's supposed to take some type of medication that'll help her sleep but more or less shut the movie reel off that's been re-playing inside her head. She never took a single one of those pills because one of the side effects was an increase in suicidal thoughts and actions; she does not need that on top of what she's already going through."

"So yer telling me dat anyt'ing I do is hopeless? How da fuck has she been functioning da past couple of years? I really want ta help her; she needs me."

"She needs you or you need her? I honestly don't know how she's been managing to keep herself as put together as she is. When she came home, after having a nightmare like that she would drink and keep drinking until she passed out. Her doctor recommended some alternatives but she was never one to follow doctor's orders."

She saw the smirk come across his face and came to the conclusion that he knew what she was talking about. She heard about her sister's mugging and the trip to the hospital; how she was supposed to keep her arm in a sling and to not lift anything more than 10 pounds. She figured that's what his expression was all about. She was busy bustling around the kitchen as they continued to talk. Her sister had a routine she followed down to the letter when she had a nightmare this bad and took precautionary measures to make sure everything was laid out on the counter for when she emerged from the bathroom.

"She's got this weird cleaning thing she does after she has had a nightmare that intense. She has to do something to help keep her from dwelling on it and she's chosen to spend her time decompressing by cleaning the entire kitchen from top to bottom. When I brought her home from the ER after she smashed her head through my coffee table, she went through every cabinet in the kitchen, took out all of the dishes and scrubbed them in near scalding hot water. Every dish was already clean. She then went into my bathroom and pulled out all the cleaning supplies and scrubbed away at every surface she could reach; she even took an old toothbrush out of the trashcan and used it to clean the grout between the tiles on the kitchen floor."

"Ya ever ask why?"

"Yep. Never did get an answer from her. She has her reasons for doing the things she does. Just takes someone with a strong enough will to dig deep enough to find the answers."

"Me and Connor will figure it out."

"Good luck. Whatever you do though, do not touch her when she comes out of the bathroom. Don't give me that look; you have to let her come to you. She is going to come out of that bathroom shaking like a leaf and the last thing she needs is one of us trying to touch her or hold her or any of those actions that are meant to be compassionate. Think of her as a frightened, caged animal; what happens when they feel cornered? They lash out and when she lashes out, she gets physical. The first and only time I tried that I ended up with a pair of black eyes and a fat lip. We're sisters afterall, we do fight."

"Ya won't hear me arguing on dat point. Some days I wonder if me and Connor sharing da same space is a good idea. Den again, dere are days I'm grateful we live under da same roof."

"Count yourselves as lucky; we get along better the further away we are. My sister inherited our dad's temper and it's not pretty. Guess that's one of the downsides of being a natural-born Texan: bad temper. Our dad's side of the family is all from Texas and their tempers pale in comparison to my sister's. Add in the fact that our mom is part Irish and you've got a dangerous cocktail on your hands when she does finally blow her top."

"Well den, she should get along with our Ma no problem. From what I hear, dat got on just fine while I was in da hospital."


I wasn't sure how long I was in the bathroom hurling my guts out, but once I was finally sure that the nausea had passed and my stomach was completely empty I closed the lid and flushed the toilet. I scooted across the floor until my back hit the wall and my head fell backwards, taking a few deep breaths before I attempted to stand. It was a struggle to get back on my feet again, but once the task was accomplished I washed my hands and rinsed my mouth out. I caught sight of my reflection staring back at me and what I saw just made the nightmare seem more real. My face was tear-stained, my nose was puffy, and my eyes were bloodshot; I guess all of the force behind what came up made me break a few blood vessels in my eyes. Nothing anyone can do about broken blood vessels but let them heal on their own.

When I emerged from the bathroom the sound of my sister's and Murphy's voices in the kitchen quickly silenced themselves.

'Time for the walk of shame' I told myself.

Taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, I made my way to the kitchen. I kept my eyes cast down, more so out of embarrassment, as I started in on my routine, silently reminding myself to thank my sister later for getting everything out for me. After a nightmare like this, I had to do something to keep my mind from dwelling on it. This whole routine I set for myself would take a couple of hours to complete, which should be enough time for my mind to unwind itself from the complicated series of knots that it somehow managed to tie itself into.

As I set about my tasks Murphy continued trying to get me to talk to him while my sister repeatedly told him to leave me alone; that I would talk when I was ready. I knew I scared him pretty badly and I wasn't trying to ignore him on purpose but I had to get this done before I said a word to anybody. He finally gave up and took a seat on the couch next to my sister when the clock struck 4 a.m. I was going to have to call into work today after this one and probably let my professor know I wasn't going to be in class either.

It wasn't until the morning news started that I realized it was 6 a.m. and I had been awake the past 2 or 3 hours trying to calm myself down. At least all of the cleaning in the kitchen was done and I could finally make myself something to help calm my nerves and perhaps help me get back to sleep. As I waited for the pot of water to come to a boil, I walked out of the kitchen and went straight to my sister, giving her a hug and whispered a meaningful 'thank you' into her ear. We may fight like cats and dogs but we hate to see each other hurt and not know how to fix it. If anything, I am more than thankful that Connor went behind my back and invited her up here. Without her, I have no idea what Murphy or Connor would have done in this situation. I do know though that I would have burned the bridge with the both of them standing on it had my sister not been here.

She let me go once the pot started to whistle and went about getting the rest of my drink ready for me. The look on Murphy's face told me he was hurting and there wasn't much I could say or do to make that go away. His face softened a little bit with the light of the rising sun breaking through the darkness of the living room as he extended a hand towards mine; grasping it he gave my arm a gentle tug pulling me toward him. I wasn't sure what his intentions were but I was so filled with doubt that I just decided it was in my best interest to let him do what he wanted. He pulled me onto his lap so that I was straddling him; his arms were wrapped around my waist rubbing my back while mine were wrapped around his neck. Neither of us said anything as we stared at the darkness that surrounded us. My sister came back into the room with the largest coffee cup I owned filled to the brim along with something draped over her arm breaking the rising tension that had been mounting.

"Wasn't sure how much you were able to feel the past couple of hours but I thought you may want your robe to cover up with." She said, showing me the robe that she dug out of my closet and draping it over my shoulders.

It was until she said something that it dawned on me that I had been naked this whole time; under different circumstances I'm almost certain that Murphy would've enjoyed the view. The reality of the situation though made me realize that I may be better off permanently locked away in an institute; an even better option would be turning myself in to the F.B.I. and convince them alongside a team of defense lawyers that I'm not mentally fit to stand trial.

"Why don't you finish this and call your boss to let him know you're not going in today? I know you hate hearing it, but you need to sleep. I was only able to take off work today and yesterday to fly up here and check on you so I have an 8 a.m. flight I need to catch. If you need to talk to me, you call me, understand? I only met these guys yesterday and they seem to really care about you so if you don't want to talk to me, you talk to them. Don't start shutting yourself down after you managed to find yourself two good men willing to put your fears to rest. Murphy, you and Connor both have my number if you have questions that she can't answer, call me."

With that, my sister started packing up her things and headed towards the door. The sound of knocking a few seconds later and Connor's voice filled my ears with dread. I didn't want my sister to leave to begin with but Connor being on the other side of the door it brought back the memories of the nightmare all over again. Somehow Murphy's voice broke through the black fog that started to cloud my mind and I heard my sister laughing at something that Connor had said followed by the door closing behind her.

"I'm sorry, you were never supposed to see me like this."

"Were ya not paying attention when I told ya dat I've been watching ya do dat fer months? Scared da fucking hell out of me seeing ya like dat, but ya have no reason ta be sorry fer somet'ing ya can't control."

"There's a difference between watching it happen from a window and experiencing it first-hand. Does Connor know what happened?"

"Not yet. Don't know if ya even heard me or not, but I ran upstairs fer a few minutes to get somet'ing while you were cleaning. Connor was taking a piss and I didn't wanna be gone too long. Told him dat somet'ing happened during da night and I was staying here until you were feeling better. Pretty sure he knows it was anot'er nightmare."

"Might be a stupid question, but how would he know if you didn't tell him?"

"Silent twin conversation."

We fell into silence as the sun continued its rise into the eastern sky and the sounds of the city started coming to life once again. The morning news reporters were re-capping the same stories we had heard last night, some of them were similar to the ones I had dreamed up in my sleep. Thankfully though, Rocco's name was never mentioned. Murphy's hands continued to roam over my back in an effort to keep me anchored to where I was. The feeling was a relaxing one that I never wanted to end. I could feel my eyelids finally start drooping and my head falling forward on his shoulder as I tried to make myself even more comfortable where I was.

"C'mon, ya've gotta finish dis and call inta work. I already told Connor dat I'm staying here so ya won't be alone. If ya don't mind t'ough, I'm gonna call Ma while yer sleeping."

"You can use my phone to call her if you want. After the last time I talked to her I decided to save her number to my contacts just in case I had to call her in case of another emergency or if you two pushed one button too many. Sorry, I probably should've asked you two if it was okay."

"Ya need ta stop apologizing fer shit all da time. You can be sorry all ya want fer any number of reasons, but dere's no need ta be saying sorry fer somet'ing ya can't control and dere's no need ta be saying sorry fer wanting someone ta talk to when we start getting ta be too much ta handle. Now, drink the rest of dis and go on back ta bed."

"Please, don't make me go back in there by myself."

This was the worst nightmare I had experienced since the days, weeks, and months following his death and I did not want to be alone. Truthfully, I was still too scared to go back to sleep and I was more than certain that I had just scared Murphy off for good; that he was using the excuse to call his mom while I was sleeping as his get out of jail free card to wash his hands clean of me.

"Make ya a deal: you drink da rest of dis and we'll both go lay back down fer a bit. Deal?"

Though he seemed a bit frustrated with my failing attempts to stay as far away from the bedroom as possible, Murphy remained patient. After everything the two of us have been through in the past few months, he has finally decided that now was the right time to start exercising the virtue that I had tried to instill in him. I'll have to call Annabelle later and thank her for her words of wisdom. Murphy will learn his lesson when the tables are turned is what she told me.

I nodded my head in agreement and reluctantly, I did as I was told for a change. I was also convinced that by striking this deal that he was going to be gone for good when I woke up later in the morning. That he was going to tell Connor just how fucked up I am and I was never going to see either of them again after today. That there would be times where we would inevitably meet in public, probably at McGinty's, but neither of them would acknowledge my presence. They would tell Doc, Rocco, and all their other buddies about what happened today and I would be ostracized from the only public place I really felt comfortable at.

Somehow, Murphy managed to untangle my limbs from around him and took my now empty coffee cup from my hands. He nearly had to lift me off of his lap so he could put the item elsewhere. I stood from the couch and waited for him outside the bedroom door, watching him place my cup on top of the counter. Once inside the bedroom, I found that the fan was still turned on and the blankets were thrown around just like we had left them. I climbed back into the bed, thankful that the fan had dried whatever sweat and tears were on my side. Murphy climbed in next to me, drawing the blankets over us and wrapping me up in the safety of his arms until I was finally able to fall back to sleep, though it was far from the peaceful bliss I had experienced the night before.

I lay in bed tossing and turning for the next couple of hours until I couldn't stand it anymore. The first time I had woken up, Murphy was gone and I did the best I could to fall back asleep on my own. Catching a glimpse at the alarm clock, I saw that it was pushing 9 a.m. The second time I woke up, I called into work letting them know that I was sick and that I would try to be in the next day. I threw the blankets off, shut the fan off, and got dressed before climbing out the window, reaching for the rails of the fire escape and climbing down. I resigned to the fact that no matter what I did or where I went, his face was always going to be hiding in the dark recesses of my mind. I also knew that I was a wanted fugitive so in order to get the help I needed I had to turn myself in. The fact that I was able to boldly walk in and out of a Boston P.D. sub-station as well as work with a trio of homicide detectives without anyone recognizing my face on a wanted poster had been a blessing and a curse. But it was time to stop running.

Before I left, I made sure to leave a note asking that my cats be taken care of while I'm gone along with a duffle bag filled with an undisclosed amount of money that could be used for their complete care, including visits to the vet when they needed to go. Under no circumstances were they to be separated, I just hope that Connor and Murphy were up to the task of being cat parents. The cats had taken to them pretty quickly so I would hate to see them go to a home where they were around strangers or even worse, abused.

"Hey, look who decided to drop in for a visit!" Greenly exclaimed as he came walking through one of the various hallways, slinging an arm over my shoulders. "What can we do for you today? Not here to confess to another self-defense shooting, are you? No, I got it, you're here to get an early start on that internship, huh?

I gave him a weak smile and pushed his arm off my shoulder as I walked over to the wanted board, taking one of the many flyers down and handing it to him.

"I'm turning myself in. I'm tired of running, I'm tired of hiding in plain sight, and I'm just tired. I can't afford an attorney and I know I'm going to be needing one." Handing the paper over to Greenly.

"Sweetheart, you know I gotta put these on." Dolly's voice was soft, filled with sorrow as he gently took a hold of my wrists, placing them behind my back. As tired as I was, I just had no fight left in me to oppose someone who was just doing their job. Dolly had watched me carefully, though confused, as I took the push-pin holding my wanted poster out of the cork board and replaced it.

"Green Beans, go get Smecker he is not gonna believe this shit."

Duffy's voice came from out of nowhere as I watched him peer over Greenly's shoulder, taking the sheet of paper from his hands and doing a double-take of the three year old mugshot and my current appearance.

"C'mon, we're gonna put you in room one while Greenly's getting Agent Smecker. Just so you're aware, he is currently our in-house FBI liaison working on The Saints case but he'll be the one in charge of your case. I'm going to make a phone call and get a public defender down here for you. Need anything while you're waiting?"

I shook my head as I followed Dolly down a short hallway and was directed to a room labeled as interrogation room 1. A metal table, two chairs, and a two-way mirror were the contents of the room. I was told to have a seat and to be quiet as Dolly pointed up to a corner of the room in which a camera was placed. The door closed behind the pair and I sat waiting in silence, contemplating what questions were going to be asked of me and the many ways in which this could play out.

My thoughts were interrupted when a man in a dark blue, three piece suit came into the room. His hair was rather flamboyant looking for an FBI agent but his demeanor was strictly professional. He oozed with confidence, wisdom, and experience. Looks alone, he was going to talk the prosecutor, judge, and jury into giving me the maximum sentence possible. I would not be surprised if I was found guilty and told that I was going to be sentenced to death.

"The items you requested are being sent out now, won't get here until closer to 6 or 7 tonight. I've got a call in to the courthouse for a public defender; should be here within the next half hour or so." Duffy's voice was just outside the door as this man stood in the doorway watching me from the corner of his eye. He nodded his head before entering the room, closing the door behind him.

"I'm FBI Special Agent Paul Smecker, and you are?"

"Tired. You're holding my wanted poster; you have my name there if you want to address me but know this, I'm not saying anything on this matter until I have an attorney present."

Today is going to be a long day.