[Olivia's POV]
"I'm taking the next plane back," Mr. Taper says once I'm finished.
"Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt your vacation," I say, biting my lower lip.
"We ended our therapy a year ago, but I promised you I'd always be there for you. And I keep my promises."
"I know, thank you."
"Olivia?"
"Yes?"
"There is, however, one important question I need to ask you right now."
"Yes...?"
"Do you love her?"
I should be saying, no, screaming 'No'. I should be offended that he even asked. But I...
"I don't know," I whisper, so quietly I'm unsure whether he even heard me.
Silence on the other end.
"See me in my office tomorrow at noon."
"Okay. I'll be there."
I put the phone down again. Silence surrounds me.
I should delete her number. I should delete her number right now.
Fuck, I've only known her for three weeks. Why am I even wasting another single thought on her?
A first tear makes its way down my cheek. Don't cry now, she isn't worth it.
But there's no fighting it – within a few minutes, I'm crying loudly while pressing a pillow to my face and rocking back and forth on my sofa.
My crying soon turns into screaming. I'm mad. Mad at Hannah, mad at myself for falling for her, mad at the universe. Haven't I been through enough? Was this really necessary? I haven't felt this loved and wanted since they died – only to find out that the person who made me feel loved is the reason they're dead. And not just that – she terrorized the entire city. She killed so many more people than just my family. A monster. I fell for a monster. I bury my face into the pillow and scream, over and over again, until my throat is sore, until I'm too exhausted to scream.
The crying fit goes as fast as it came. Now I just feel... numb.
The day drags on.
Everything feels like a fever dream. Like I'm floating through the day, everything I see is fuzzy, every sound I hear is muffled. I keep falling asleep only to jerk awake after an hour or so, hearing my brother's screams and my dad's pleading in my dreams.
Sometime around noon I try eating something, but I can't get anything down. I try reading, but I can't concentrate. I try watching TV but what's happening on the screen just flies past me.
Every minute, every second, I expect Hannah to call, send a text or ring the door bell.
After all her excuses, her crying and her telling me how much she loves me, I find it hard to believe that she'd just get over this break up. Especially since she doesn't exactly seem like the most stable person. So, apart from napping a lot and being shaken by random crying fits, I spend most of my day staring at my phone.
When by midnight my phone still hasn't gone off one single time, I'm convinced she's killed herself. Part of me is relieved about that... and another part of me wants to go straight after her. And yet another part wants to text her to see of she's okay. I resist the temptation and decide to just go to bed. I take a sleeping pill or three, barely making it to my bed before falling into a deep, but uneasy slumber.
~l~
I awake after a full ten hours of sleep, but I don't feel recovered in any way.
I check my phone and my heart sinks when I see that I have an unread text message.
With shaking hands, I open it.
It's from Mr. Taper. I let out a relieved sight as I read what he has sent me.
"I hope you're okay. Don't forget our appointment today at noon."
It is now 10:13. I get up to get ready.
I'm already undressed and standing in front of the shower when I decide "fuck it."
I throw on a pair of sweatpants and the first Shirt I grab from my closet. A little deodorant and I'm good to go. I don't even bother to comb my hair. I just... don't care.
I eat a small bowl of cereal for breakfast and then leave the house.
I arrive at Mr. Taper's office half an hour early, but he's already there waiting for me.
I haven't seen him in over a year. His hair has gone all grey and he has a different pair of glasses.
His office, however, hasn't changed. I swear, he even still has the same plant sitting on the windowsill.
He sits down and gestures me to sit down on the chair next to him.
"How did you spend yesterday?", he asks.
"I didn't," I say, "I mean... I slept a lot."
"You still look tired."
"I feel tired. I guess depression does that to people."
"If I'm not mistaken, you still take your Anti-Depressants."
"Yeah, once every three days, like you told me to last time we saw each other."
"I think you should go from every three days to every other day. At least for now."
I nod.
"Have you thought about the question I asked you right before we ended our conversation yesterday?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"I should be offended you even asked."
"Yes, you should. But are you?"
"I mean... when you're with someone and you find out they've been cheating, you don't instantly stop loving them. That's why it hurts so much."
"That is correct," Mr. Taper says, "But what does that mean for you?"
It takes me a minute to respond.
"I wouldn't call it 'love', but the feelings I had for her aren't quite gone just yet."
"And you're ashamed of that?"
"She killed my family."
"Indeed she did. But sometimes we fall for bad people. This is not your fault."
Silence surrounds us for a while.
"Has she ever been abusive or violent towards you?"
"No. Quite the contrary, she was loving and sweet..."
"Would you ever consider giving her a second chance?"
"No," I burst, but after a few seconds I add, "At least not if I don't get a very clear explanation for why she did what she did."
"Well, as it so happens, I called a colleague of Piltover's Insane Asylum, which is where Hannah Rosecorn spent the past five years. I'm not allowed to tell you any details, but let me reassure you that she is indeed a very disturbed individual. With the list of disorders they diagnosed on her I'm truly not surprised that she snapped. All the more shocked am I about the fact that they released her this early. Had this decision been up to me, she'd still be locked up and would never get free. I don't think someone this disturbed can ever be fixed."
"So... what are you suggesting?"
"That you forget what happened, as hard as it may seem. Under no circumstances should you consider taking her back."
Deep down, I knew he'd say this. Deep down, I knew that I shouldn't even think about giving her a second chance. But it still hurts.
"I assume you haven't been to college yesterday."
"Yes."
"I want you to go back tomorrow. The distraction is what you need."
"What if I see her there?"
"For some reason, I seriously doubt this. However if you do, I want you to treat her like any other of your classmates."
When I go to class the next day, I see that he was right. She isn't here.
Nor is she the next day. Or the day after that. Or the rest of that week, for that matter. Maybe she really did kill herself.
But just when you think you get your life back on track...
