AFTER STORY — PART II

**— ANGELEE ADAMS (POV)**
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For the past seven months, I’ve wondered what happened to Laura.
*What happened after she left by the stairs? What happened to her twisted mind?*
I knew that she had been temporarily arrested for trespassing and assault, but Julian and my father tried hard to keep the details away from me. Perhaps that’s why the subject never really seemed a closure to me.
Unfortunately, as much as I fought against it and didn’t want to admit it, for the last seven months, that day has tormented me.
When I held my daughters in my arms for the first time, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t let Laura get to me. And I really tried to deny it, to convince myself that it was enough just to let go and focus on my family — but I couldn’t, and I hate myself for being weak to that extent.
Finding out that Laura would spend her time in a mental institution wasn’t really a surprise. I knew there was something wrong with her obsession and the way she detached herself from reality. It’s like she really believed her lies... as if, deep down, she really believed that her delusions were the reality.
She’ll spend a good few years locked up for the crimes she committed. Not exactly locked up behind *bars,* but in white walls that will make her look inside herself. Somehow, that seems like a good thing. But there’s still a restlessness inside me.
All the nights I lay awake afraid that something would happen to my daughters... all the times I woke up drenched in sweat with tears streaming down my face and my heart racing… *They’re real.*
After everything Laura did to me... Could I really accept something like that as a conclusion to our story?
I knew better...
I need real closure.
“Thanks for bringing me here before our trip, love.” I take my eyes off the car window and look at Julian, who has a worried look on his face. “I know you don’t want me to do this, but I have to.”
“I know.” He nods, sighs, then touches my face. “Please don’t let her enter your mind... Laura is-”
“I won’t.” I interrupt him, knowing what his concern is. “But I need to see her.”
“I understand.” Julian rubs his thumb against my cheek. “Do you want me to go in with you?”
“No need... It won’t take long.”
Julian gives me a light, lingering kiss, and I can feel his anxiety. I close my eyes and surrender to this moment as if it were my last. When I pull away, I look into his green eyes that have always captivated me, and I feel my strength and courage grow stronger.
I get out of the car and take a deep breath of the cold winter air, which, although it chills my chest, is somehow comfortable.
Outside, the large trees look lifeless without their leaves; they’re just trunks enormous and empty, but I can still see beauty in this sleeping landscape and carry the hope of rebirth in spring.
Inside the mental institution, down the long corridors, I can hear screams mixed with hysterical and amused laughter, as well as other noises. Every step into the visiting room makes my heart hammer a little harder against my chest, but even in the face of such dread, I don’t hesitate.
*I know I’m doing the right thing.*
Laura has been here for some time. They say she’s a danger to others and herself, so she’s been waiting to be sentenced here. I don’t know about her future, and honestly, I don’t care. Maybe it’s selfish of me to come here just to seek closure and relief from my own conscience, but I think I have the right. After everything Laura has done to me, this is the least she can give me.
As soon as the woman with the high bun and all-white clothes stops in front of a heavy door, she looks at me with the same stern expression she had all the way through; the severity in her gaze and the frown on her forehead worsen the wrinkles that make her look older than she probably is. Her voice, like everything else about her, also seems cold and distant: “The patient will come in right after you. For your safety — and her own — she’ll be wearing a straitjacket.”
*Straitjacket?* Her words alarm me.
“Don’t worry, the tables are separated by tough glass, it’s extremely safe. The straitjacket is because she’s been misbehaving since she found out she’ll be spending a few years in our company.” She gives a sarcastic smirk, and I almost dare to feel sorry for Laura. Of course, that brief sympathy disappears in the same second as soon as the woman opens the heavy door.
The drawing room is like said. There’s an apparently thick pane of glass separating the room and eight tables on both sides. On the other one, there are hooks on it and nothing but padding on the walls.
I sit down on one of the chairs, and as soon as I take a deep breath, the other door opens. Through the glass, a strong man guides the short woman with messy red hair toward me, and my heart rises to my throat. Something seems out of place. Even when he forces her into the chair, she keeps her head down.
The man checks the straitjacket and takes a few steps back without looking at me. The seriousness of his countenance is the same as that of the woman who brought me here, and it sends a shiver down my spine. For a moment, I imagine what it must be like to be in this place for years; if I’m distressed for a few minutes, imagine spending who knows how long. It’s no wonder Laura isn’t happy about it.
Even so, this is just the consequence of her actions. I don’t really feel sorry for her, even though my nature makes me feel a certain empathy.
When she raises her eyes, without actually raising her head, and makes me the subject of her gaze, all the memories flood into my head, like a frantic movie playing in a single second.
“I told you,” Laura mutters, something that I hardly understand. “I told you I’d torment you, didn’t I?”
Her laugh is low but hissing and drawn out. If this were a horror movie, I would think a demon possessed her — or at least that Laura is the devil himself... *Otherwise, how could there be so much evil, anger, and resentment in someone’s eyes?*
Now that she’s looking at me properly, I even wonder if this is the woman I know. The youthfulness, the beauty that conquered and broke so many hearts it’s no longer here. Her pale, dehydrated skin shows how underweight she is, worsening the deep purple circles under her eyes, and her cracked lips in this insane smile that leaves her countenance twisted looks like it hurt.
Laura really does look like a different person.
“Hehehe...” She laughs and tries to move her arms, but they’re trapped in the straitjacket; realizing that makes the smile disappear in the blink of an eye. Now she’s furious again, throwing her body forward as if that could bring us closer.
If it weren’t for the glass separating us, I might have the reflex to pull away.
“Stupid bitch. Time passes, the clock ticks and you’re still pathetic.”
My eyes narrow.
“What the hell happened to you, Laura? How did you get to this point?”
“Did I?” She retorts, shaking her head. “Haha, funny you say that. Whose fault is that? You’re always playing the victim… when *you’re the one who destroyed my life.* You should be here. You’re insane, not me!”
Suddenly, her countenance becomes insane again. It’s like watching an actor switching characters. I can no longer tell if Laura has really lost her mind or if she’s faking it.
“Stop trying to blame others. You’re here for your own wrongdoings.”
“You came all this way to lecture me? Oh, I see, you came because you want a conclusion! Haha, pathetic! So, so pathetic! Do you want me to beg your forgiveness and tell you how sorry I am?” Suddenly, Laura’s eyes fill with tears. She shakes her head, letting her face take on a deep sadness. “I’m sorry, Angel. I’m sorry I pushed you… *I’m sorry I didn’t do it right!* I should have *killed your babies!* I didn’t do it right, I’m sorry! I should have jumped off that building and made you watch!”
His words distort into a laugh, and I feel too shocked to speak.
“Is that what you wanted to hear?” She laughs, running her tongue over her parched lips. “I don’t regret it. I may be in this place, but I’ll never regret it because your miserable face and your tears were the MOST SATISFACTORY thing I’ve ever seen.”
I don’t flinch, even if she’s struggling and saying those hateful things. Even if she crashes into the chair and into the arms of the man trying to hold her, I don’t feel alarmed or afraid... because Laura is on the other side, and her words are… *shallow.* She’s just saying anything to hurt me.
*In the end, she's the pathetic one.*
“I hate you!” Laura screams in the man’s arms. “I hate you, Angelee! I’ll hate you for the rest of my life!”
“I don’t care,” I say coldly, and my words freeze her. “You’re nothing, Laura. You mean nothing for me — nothing for *anyone.* You ended up alone, and there is no longer a single person who cares about you anymore. You pushed away and destroyed everything by yourself, and you have nothing left... just a miserable life inside your distorted mind. So go ahead and hate me if you want. The one who will be tormented by the existence of the other will no longer be me.”
Again, it’s like her whole show has stopped.
“You say you don’t care? Liar!”
Laura is indeed unstable and *fragmented.* She’s in so many pieces that, even if she glues together all the reminiscent versions of herself, she’ll never be *whole.* Something like that can’t hurt me or the people I love.
And now, I understand.
For the past few months, I’ve asked myself why I let her affect me again. But today, I realize that what scared me the most wasn’t Laura... it was the fear of losing the people I love… the fear of leaving my daughters *without a mother.*
It goes beyond Laura or to the power she believes she has over me.
It was never Laura’s shadow that tormented me... but my own fears.
And now, I really don’t feel anything for this woman anymore.
No fear, no anger, no pity...
*We’re finally done.*
“Angelee, you’re talking shit! You know you can’t get rid of me! I’m *nothing?* You know you’re *nobody* without me! If it weren’t for me, *you’d have nothing!* YOU’RE NOTHING!”
I stand up, looking away.
“You stole everything that should belong to me! You should thank me! Where are you going? Don’t leave… HOW DARE YOU TURN YOUR BACK ON ME?”
I don’t mind paying her another single glance because this is no longer an empty conviction. It’s not something I repeat to convince myself or to find some comfort amidst the chaos.
It’s how I really feel.
As I walk out of this room, ignoring her cries that seem like the sincere whines of her soul, I no longer feel anything about Laura or about the fear that suffocates me.
With a lighter chest and shoulders, I finally leave Laura trapped in these walls — along with my wounds, both buried in the past.
Now, the only thing I care about is my husband and the honeymoon that finally awaits us.