I'm not him.
There's no way in hell I'm him, because there's no way in hell I'd do
Any of what he's done.
I might have a short fuse, but I'm not that sort of person.
…Maybe if I keep repeating this to myself, it'll be true.
And maybe if I keep telling myself that I'm the one in control of my emotions,
That'll be true, too.
Or am I just fooling myself?
Damn Rickett, and damn his mind games. I should know better than to fall for them.
Fourteen years ago, I did.
But then, there was someone home when I went back across the bridge at night.
Now there's no one.
And so I sit there in the crib after telling Liv that I'm going home, which was a lie,
Because the lockers are dented in and my hands are bleeding, and it hurts like hell.
And I'm wondering if maybe Rickett was right, and I am like him, because
It kind of seems like I am, minus the part of him that wants to hurt kids, 'cause
I've got four of my own, and like hell would I ever do to them what he's done,
To his own victims.
For that matter, like hell would I do it to any child.
They're the innocent ones, damn it.
It isn't supposed to happen to them…to anyone.
Why is it that I always seem to need what isn't there?
My family…my partner…
I'd call her, but she needs a break and she doesn't need to be dealing with me.
And there's no one else in the squad room, and it's late.
I'd call Kathy, but she's not going to want to hear it.
And in any case, I don't want her to, because I've already got it in my own damn head.
Doesn't need to be in anyone else's. Least of all hers.
It'd be easier if she hadn't up and left, I think, because then,
I could just go home and take a shower, and go to bed,
Which I can do anyway, but I hate sleeping alone at home.
It's fine when I'm at the precinct, because it's not like I have a choice, but…
Home's the one place where it bothers me, and I want to go there,
But these thoughts won't go away. And when I look at my hands, that first thought comes again.
I'm not him.