Seeing Jason in the condition he was in was one of the hardest things I'd ever witnessed in my life. And I had witnessed some fucked up shit.

My heart hurt when he mentioned how I never visited him. I wanted to, and I always thought about visiting, but every time West came back from seeing Jason, he would scream at me. He would cuss me out, blame me for Jason's injuries, blame me for ruining his life, and then go and slam his bedroom door. Each time, he wouldn't leave his room for an entire day. So I guess you could say I never felt I deserved to visit Jason. Him coming to visit me was surely a surprise.

As much as I loved and cared for Jason, I couldn't help but get defensive. The drugs were the least of my problems, in fact, the drugs were the solution to my problems. Take a hit, feel numb. Pop a pill, mask your feelings. It was the only genuinely helpful thing in my life besides Big Mike. He wasn't just my human-size sex toy, he was the only person who listened to what I had to say and who understood what the drugs did for me. West and Jason had the wrong impression of Mike. He was a good guy, and he promised to never leave my side as long as I needed him around. Right now, I needed him more than ever.

Mike had left hours ago, as his 2-hour limit was up. And now, I was sitting at the kitchen table, fumbling with my hands to keep myself occupied while I waited for 2 cops to come and get me. Today was the day I had been dreading, yet anticipating at the same time. The day that terrified, yet excited me all at once. The day that was met with too many mixed emotions, I couldn't decide which way to feel.

Today was the day I was going to see Otto again.

Because of the ongoing trial and the investigation regarding Otto's charges, the police had suggested the idea that I pay Otto a visit. He was locked up in the Arbor County jail for the time being, and the police thought it would be beneficial for the investigation that Otto and I talk. They wanted to see if he would confide in me, confess to his killings and his other crimes, or if he would mention anything that could be considered important to the case.

I stupidly agreed to the suggestion.

The thought of seeing Otto after everything that happened terrified me. The last time I saw him, he was being taken away from me by the police, arrested right in front of me. I had watched him as he screamed for the police to let him go, begged me to tell them it was a mistake. Heartbreak in his eyes. I'm sure, pain in his heart. And it all happened so quickly right after I told him how much I loved him. And I still loved him.

How could I be so stupid?

I heard a door opening, and to my surprise, West walked out of his room and into the kitchen. He ignored me and went straight for the fridge right as another door opened. Two police officers walked into the kitchen, catching West's attention.

"I thought there was no questioning this week," he said, eyeing the police officers before slowly looking towards me. His eyes narrowed when he caught sight of me, still enraged by my mere presence. These days, he was never remotely close to civil with me.

"No questioning," one of the officers confirmed his thought. "We're taking Harrison to the Arbor County Jail, as per the sheriff's request. To see Otto Landry."

I gulped, not daring to look at West, although I could feel the intensity of his stare practically burning a hole through my head.

"Otto?" West asked.

I simply nodded, then standing up, hoping that the police officers would hurry up and take me to the car before West could say anything else. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

"You can't go to see Otto," West said, looking over towards the police officers. "You can't be serious, can you?"

"It's important to the case, Mr. Simmons," one of the officers stated. "If the charges against Mr. Landry are true, then we need to try and get a confession from him."

"A fucking confession? You're serious!" He exclaimed, shaking his head. West was a volcano lately, one that erupted at the slightest rising of magma. "Here's a fucking confession: Otto is a murderer, he is a child predator, and he is a psychopath! Harrison, you can't seriously agree to this, you can't seriously see this as a good idea!"

I sucked in a deep breath. "You don't care, West," I muttered. "You only care right now because you don't want me to go see Otto, but you don't get to decide what I should and shouldn't do. It would be better if you just went back to not caring."

West stayed silent much to me appreciation, and I turned towards the officers who motioned for me to follow them outside. I was surprised I didn't hear West's bedroom door slamming as I left the house.

He seriously had the audacity to act like he cared...

As I got into the uncomfortable cop car, I could feel myself starting to get uneasy. Then, the car started to move, and I was overwhelmed by the fact that this car was taking me straight to the Arbor County Jail.

Straight to Otto.

•••

Walking through the cold, gray prison was seriously daunting. I was being escorted by four police officers now as we made our way through the narrow halls. Unlike the hospital, these narrow halls couldn't give the illusion of being spacious. The concrete walls with stainless steel doors just made everything feel cramped and uncomfortable. I'd thought the little garden behind the safe house to be unpleasant, but I realized that it didn't even compare to the feeling of walking through the jail.

The officers lead me around a corner and towards a series of private rooms, all which had one-way glass, allowing those outside to see what was going on inside. We walked to the end of the hallway, and I peered into the other rooms as we passed them, which only made me even more anxious. I sucked in a deep breath, feeling my heart race faster as we came to the last room in the hallway, stopping in front of it.

I looked through the window and there he was. He was sitting at the table, completely unrestrained. His hair had grown quite a bit, accompanied with a slight stubble on his chin. But other than the subtle changes in his appearance, he looked exactly like the mysterious man I had fallen in love with. Suddenly, my heart was pumping to an ungodly beat.

In, hold, out. In, hold, out.

Hesitantly, I nodded towards the police officers, and they carefully opened the stainless-steel door, which made a loud squeaky noise. As I walked into the small room, Otto's eyes immediately darted up to meet mine. His eyes clung to the dim light given off in the room making them light up in a bright, emerald shade. I made my way over to the table, pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down.

Although I had just done my breathing exercises to calm myself, I could feel myself starting to become uneasy again. My hands were shaking underneath the table, unable to stop because here I was sitting across from him: the guy who tried to kill me, the guy who shot Jason and got him paralyzed, the guy who had killed fifteen other women throughout his lifetime. Yet, all I saw in front of me was Otto, the man I foolishly fell in love with.

I can't love him.

"Harrison," he whispered. He kept his eyes locked on mine, and I did the same. It was hard for me to look away from his picture perfect features. His perfectly plump lips, his pallid yet clear skin, his high cheekbones even more accentuated than usual, and his ruffly brown hair naturally wavy. How could someone remain so flawless in these living conditions? Everything about his appearance had always captivated me, and today was no acception. Feelings of tenderness began to flood back into my mind, reminding me of just how much love I held in my heart for the person sitting in front of me. I tried to brush off those feelings, repressing them further into my mind.

I can't feel this way about Otto. Not after everything that happened.

"Hey, Otto," I finally replied, and he smiled. How could he possibly smile?

"I missed you. I really did," he told me and then sighed. "I didn't think you would have come to see me after everything. Especially after you turned me in." His voice broke when he spoke to me, and a part of my heart sank when I heard it. Knowing that he was hurting made me sick to my stomach, and I hated to see him so distraught.

Stop feeling pity for him. He tried to kill you.

I took a deep breath and stiffened in my chair. "The police said it would be good for me to talk to you," I informed him. "That's the only reason I'm here."

"So I was right," he mumbled under his breath. Otto was quiet for a moment, his eyes no longer looking into mine. Rather, they were looking down at his hands where his fingers were tapping lightly on the table. "You didn't love me, it was all a lie. I fucked it all up."

When he reverted his eyes towards mine, I saw a bank of tears welling up in them. My heart broke a little more at the sight of him in so much pain. I looked away, trying to force myself to swallow the pity I felt for him, drowning it in the depths of my mind. However, it was hard. Because in the moment, all I wanted to do was hug him tight and tell him how much I cared for him, how much I loved him, and how much I wanted to be with him.

But I can't.

"My love for you wasn't a lie," I mumbled and looked up at him. "I had to turn you in because you're sick. I'm sorry, but I didn't have another choice."

His eyes widened. "No, don't apologize!" He argued. "I forgive you for turning me in. I understand, believe me. But something you have to understand is that I didn't kill anyone! What you claimed to have seen in that book or whatever wasn't me, Harrison! I didn't do anything!"

I shook my head. "But you did, Otto. You did when you dissociated."

"That wasn't me, though! You know that! You kept telling me that it wasn't my fault, it was my other personality! I don't even remember those things! You know that!" He exclaimed, raising his voice as he became more desperate.

"I know that you don't remember doing those things, Otto, but that doesn't mean that it wasn't you," I retorted. I could no longer believe that the murders weren't Otto's fault. I could no longer show him any pity or sympathy no matter how badly I wanted to console him.

"You know me, Harrison," Otto croaked. "You know me better than anyone, and I know what you think I did, but I didn't do it! I couldn't have! I shot Jason, yes, but all those women? I'm not capable of that!"

"Otto" I tried to speak, but before I could, he interrupted me, speaking frantically.

"You were saying something to me in the waiting room at the hospital before I was taken away," he said. "You said you hated that you couldn't fix me or be with me, although you wanted to. What were you going to say to me after that?"

I took a deep breath, looking down at my lap. My hands were still shaking, and I clasped them together to hopefully stop them. However, I could still feel the endless trembling in every bone. I remembered that day all too well. And I wished so badly that I didn't recall our conversation that day, but I did. I knew exactly what I was going to say before the police had stormed in to take him away.

"I am going to hate myself for this, but," I paused, looking up to meet Otto's tear-stricken eyes, "I can't love you, Otto. I still love you with every fiber of my being, but I just can't. Loving you, Otto Landry, would be a crime, and enough crimes have already been committed. I'm afraid that I've loved you too much already."

He shook his head rapidly. "No, Harrison, don't say that!" Otto slammed his fist on the desk, causing me to flinch slightly and my hands to unclasp, shaking even more violently. I didn't even notice I was crying until I felt a teardrop falling down my face, and I couldn't even bring myself to wipe it away. My hands were locked in place, resting on my lap.

Without warning, Otto stood up and made his way over towards me. I stood up myself, scared of what he was going to do, but he came closer to me, and I didn't move another inch. I could barely even breathe because of how close in proximity he was to me (and it wasn't the good kind of breathless I had felt with him before, the breathlessness I felt when I would see him walking into the classroom in his suit, holding his classroom folder, or the feeling of when he would lean his face forward with his hand delicately reaching out to cup the side of my face right before kissing me). Otto reached out, grabbing my hand and placing it against his chest, closing the gap between us. The powerful pounding of Otto's pulse was a strong sensation against my hand, and his grip was so tight it felt as if he would never let me go (would he ever let me go?).

"Don't you feel that?" Otto asked, staring into my eyes intently. The way he looked into my eyes with the purest form of love and passion, but there was something else inside of him. It was something eerie that I couldn't quite place.

"This, the way my heart beats like this, is all for you, Harrison. That interminable thump of my heart pumping blood throughout my body is all because of you, because of the love you have given me! Can't you feel how much I love you?" Otto was gripping my hand even tighter against him now, and I couldn't find it in me to move. I was locked in place, forced to focus into the eyes of my old flame. My palm could feel every familiar pound of his heartbeat, reliving the times I'd rested my head upon his chest and felt the same sensation. The calm heartbeat, the part of Otto that kept him alive and breathing. Most people wouldn't recognize someone's heartbeat, but it was the thing about Otto I could never let go of. His heart had become one with mine a while ago.

"My love for you is fucking endless, Harrison!" Otto persisted. "The only thing getting me through all of this is knowing that I love you! I have to love you or else what does my heart have to throb for? I am in love with you, and I'm not blind, Harrison. I can see into your soul, into the deep and dark pits of your desires. You are just as in love with me as I am with you! You can't hide from true love, my darling. You can't hide."

As Otto's eyes pierced into mine, I would have expected myself to swoon over him and remind myself just how much I loved everything about him. For God's sake, I had just been reminded that our hearts were melted together. I would have envisioned myself pulling him in closer to me in that very moment, fiercely slamming his lips onto mine, just so that I could feel the flicker between us flare up one last time, just so that I could feel that thumping from his chest against mine one more time.

However, today was different. Today, staring into his once mesmerizing eyes, the only thing I saw was immorality. It was like every part of him that I loved disappeared in an instant. As if a cloud covered up the sun, and all that was left was a pit of darkness. What I saw was pure malice. This couldn't be Otto. He wouldn't be doing this right now.

Pulling myself together, I knew that I had to move. I had to get the hell out of this room.

I shook my head, quickly ripping my hand out of Otto's clasp. I stumbled back, realizing that I could barely walk because of the excessive quivering of my legs. "No," I muttered. "I don't love you, I can't."

I love you, but I shouldn't.

"That isn't true, Harrison!" Otto screamed. "You love me, you have to love me! If you don't love me, then that means you believe what everyone else believes! That I'm a fucking monster!" Otto snagged his hair angrily, pulling out a few strands as he released his grasp. "You were the one who told me that I wasn't a monster, Harrison! I know you love me, you have to love me!"

I do love you, but this isn't you. I thought it, but the words couldn't escape my mouth. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing I still love him.

Without a moment of indecision, I turned and ran towards the door, banging on the steel and screaming for the police to let me out. I could hear Otto yelling at me still, and his voice moved closer. I felt him reach out to me and grab my arm, trying to pull me back towards him. "Don't deny what we have!" Otto cried, and then the door opened and the officers pried Otto's hand off of me. I ran out into the hallway, turning back to look in the room, watching as one of the officers pulled out his taser and use it against Otto. He fell to the ground and screamed in agony. The stainless steel door closed in front of me and the blinds on the window shut, preventing me from looking in.

I collapsed onto the floor, sitting against the wall with my legs pulled into my chest. My hands were trembling as I held my legs close to my body, and the cold environment of the prison suddenly became unbearably hot. I knew I was on the verge of a panic attack. Not even my breathing exercises could calm me, as my breaths stayed sharp and shallow. I couldn't escape my own mind, and Otto's words echoed in my head:

You are just as in love with me as I am with you. You can't hide from true love, my darling. You can't hide.

And he was right.

•••

Even as I stood in the shower, I couldn't hide from my thoughts. Instead, they ran wild.

Otto was right, and it killed me to admit that, but I was in love with him. How could you be in love with someone who had done such unspeakable things?

At this point, I was merely standing under the showerhead, letting the boiling hot water cascade over me. The burning sensation of the hot water was yet another form of self-inflicted pain that I could tolerate. A part of me even took pleasure in it. For a moment, I hoped that the water would wash away everything I was feeling: Sadness, hopelessness, and the pain, especially.

I needed the pain to go away.

I reluctantly turned off the shower, embracing myself in a towel as I stepped out. I took a good look at myself in the mirror, and I could barely recognize the person I was looking at. I had the sudden urge to take my fist and slam it against the glass, hopefully breaking it in the process, but I held back unlike the time in my dorm room. I didn't want anyone to hear me, and I didn't want to cause a commotion.

I knew that Jason was in the kitchen with West, and the last thing I wanted was for them to come find me. Not like they would care, anyway. Both of them currently hated me, and I couldn't blame them. I was a fucking bitch, especially to Jason. He didn't deserve it.

After changing into a hoodie and some shorts in the bathroom, I quietly walked back to my bedroom. I made sure to latch the door shut as I walked in, and I turned towards my bed. There was a note sitting on the pillow, and I walked over to pick it up.

Attached to the letter was a Ziploc bag filled with pills. I read the letter:

Harrison,

I thought I would leave these as a little surprise. Maybe they will help you after seeing

Otto today. We can talk about it when I come over tomorrow. Don't take too many without

me. You're supposed to take 1 at a time, but I wouldn't blame you if you shot for 2.

-Mike.

Xanax.

I used to take Xanax for my panic attacks after my brother's death. It was at one point that I decided to take the entire bottle all at once, which made me faint, and I woke up in the hospital the next day. My parents were beside me, and instead of being happy that I was alive, they were mad at my for trying to overdose, and I ended up getting sent away to Ann Arbor. They were mad at me for trying to stop the pain.

As I grabbed the bag filled with pills, I was reminded of the last time I had these pills at my disposal. As I stared at them, the same idea that I had years ago began taunting me.

Take the pills. Stop the pain.

Everything would be better, wouldn't it? If I took the pills, then all of my pain would go away. Jason and West would be better off without me in the picture. They would probably be happy knowing that the burden that is Harrison Woods was no longer around. Not to mention, I would no longer have to live with the fact that I was in love with the man who tried to kill me.

Take the pills. Stop the pain.

I looked back down at the bag, noticing that it was now opened. My unconscious desires must have decided to do so. It had to be a sign. So I swiftly dumped the excessive amount of pills out into my hand. Despite the shudder of my hands, I slowly lifted 2 pills up to my mouth, putting them in, and then swallowing them dry. And I continued that pattern: pill, mouth, swallow, until there weren't anymore left in the bag.

I laid back, staring blankly at the white ceiling, waiting for the pain to leave my body. I just wished that this time my attempt would be successful, and everything would end the way it was supposed to.

Take the pills. Stop the pain.

•••