This chapter is dedicated to @mariahw____ . Thanks for your votes and support XD.

31 - We Are Done  

Nate's POV

I stare up into the sky wondering if Brent Parks is up there somewhere, watching me. If he is, what does he feel? Remorse, anger, guilt – it sure would be interesting to find out.

There is no cloud at all and the heat is sweltering, making the shirt stick to my back. I have never been a fan of the summer – not so much because of the temperature but when I was a kid, vacation time meant sticking around the house and hearing my parents argue for most of the day. My father was a notorious cheater, resulting in at least two half siblings I know of, and money was always tight. My parents' fights were legendary yet never escalated to any sort of violence. I can't even remember ever getting a spanking.

The guards took Rena back to her cell for lunch at my request. I didn't want her to know how much her story disturbed me and desperately needed a few minutes to pull myself back together. Brent was a highly troubled individual – many of his characteristics related to his childhood trauma but his sadistic tendencies were unusual. It wasn't as much the physical aspects, I actually had seen much worse, but the mental and emotional abuse. Given Rena's age and inexperience, it was brutal.

The door behind me opens and for a moment, a slight coolness from the air conditioner is washing over me. I frown at the intruder into my personal space though I realize I am standing close to the smoking area and can't really ask for privacy at a jail. It's Roland of all people.

He hesitates when he sees me and I wish he would just go back inside but he releases the door and it slams shut. Hopefully, he at least won't strike up a conversation. I cross my arms in front of my chest – the universal sign that I want to be left alone – and he rummages through his pockets until he finds a pack of cigarettes.

"Want one?"

They do look tempting and I groan silently in agony. When Marie got pregnant for the second time, I quit but these are the days where my nerves are shot and the thought of nicotine very appealing.

Roland's eyes are pleading – it is a peace offering on top of that. My hand reaches forward and freezes but then I lose the battle. He passes me the lighter and I inhale deeply, a slight burning sensation in my lungs. I hold in the smoke, getting the full benefit of the nicotine being absorbed into my blood stream and at some point, it makes it all the way to my mind. Just as with any other drug, it takes some of the edge off from the get go.

"Did you know that cigarettes are the only drug that eventually kill you if use them exactly as intended?" It is my attempt at small talk and brining my set of morals to the world at the same time.

Roland doesn't want to talk about the horrid habit of smoking. "I honestly didn't know what that ass did to her when I grabbed her this morning. I thought she was behaving totally irrational and didn't mean to upset her. I'm really sorry."

He must have been one of the guards behind the mirror to ensure Rena behaved and appears just as disturbed as I am. I take another drag from my cigarette, not really in a forgiving mood.

"Why do men do that to a woman?" He deeply inhales the smoke with hooded eyes.

"Many reasons but the most prominent is maybe the need to have absolute control over another human being. It gives them a sense of power to compensate for situations in their lives where they felt helpless and weak."

"That's pretty deep." Roland is trying to comprehend my words and I am not really sure he understands.

"Many abusers have been bullied at some point or another or have problems advancing in their careers, maybe even being subject to ridicule outside their home. Beating up on someone gives them a sense of redemption. And in case of Brent Park, the abuse he suffered at the hands of his father played a big role in his behavior."

He lets the smoke escape through his nose and corners of his mouth. "Do you think he would have killed her one day?"

I shrug. "No idea but he would never have stopped abusing her, that's for sure."

He takes another drag. "Do you think she will get off?"

I smile at him mildly, about to tell him that a PhD in psychology does not equal a crystal ball but hold my tongue at the last moment. He is at least trying to understand and seems to be a halfway decent character after all.

"The law is a bit fuzzy when it comes to Battered Women Syndrome. It still requires some acute threat to the victim's well-being and can only be used to show that her fear of great bodily harm was reasonable to establish self-defense." I notice his confusion and remind myself that most people have difficulties grasping legal concepts. "In a nutshell, if Brent attacked her, she could have used his past abuse to justify slicing him open because all she tried to do was defend herself."

 He grimaces. "Do you think that's what happened?"

I flick away the cigarette. "That's what I'm intending to find out."

                                                         xxxx

Rena's POV

I slump back down into the metal chair, ready to the next episode of 'The Life Of Screwed Up Teen Rena Cooper.' Doc didn't look so hot when he sent me away but seemed to have calmed down since, the smell of smoke emitting from his clothing. I have never understood how people could calm their nerves with a boost of nicotine, having never lit a cigarette in my life and generally disliking the scent of it. I feel sorry for his wife having to deal with a smoker.

I am sure he is going to dive right back in where he stopped and doesn't disappoint me.

"After this very violent episode with Brent, how did you feel?"

Constantly nauseated which could have also been relating to my pregnancy and generally frightened to death but I am not inclined to discuss the specifics.

"How do you think I felt, doc?" I counter instead.

He leans back in his chair, rolling his eyes. "I really need to understand your state of mind between the time this happened and the night of the murder if you want me to help you. If not, you are just wasting everybody's time."

I need his help – badly – but I don't want to relive this nightmare again and again.

"I was on edge all the time," I snap. "The bullets were still around the house and I imagined almost constantly how they would end my life. I was jumpy, even the slightest noise startled me. But the worst was the loneliness - it was almost too much to bear. I missed talking to Kade and afraid to leave the house, hence was totally isolated and didn't have anyone to talk to." I drum my fingers on the table, giving him a nasty glare. "Is this what you want to hear, doc, or do you want me to tell you that I cringed every time Brent even stepped into a room, that I shuddered when he touched me, no matter how gentle, and that in so many ways, all I wanted to was die."

There is silence after my outburst and for a moment, I notice a slight concern flaring in his eyes. He must think I am about to crack and he is probably right.

"Did he hit you again?"

Stupid question – like if the mental terror wasn't already bad enough. "No, he did not. As a matter of fact, he was really nice to me."

But deep down, I knew he could explode any minute. One wrong move and I would feel the belt again.

"Did he intimidate you or threaten you in any way?"

Like the bullets and his constant glare weren't reminder enough of what he was capable of. "No, doc, not with words anyhow."

"But you were afraid of him?"

I wonder how he would feel if his wife kept a loaded gun in arm's reach at all times.

"I suppose so," I remark coldly. He wasn't there and doesn't understand. Sometimes, an act or a gaze can speak more than a thousand words.

"Can you walk me through the day of the murder?"

I grin at him. "It was a day just like any other day. I got up, went about my business and later on, fixed dinner. Brent came home from college, we ate, then watched a movie. He had a bad headache and went to bed early. At some point, I killed him in his sleep. That's all."

"What was the trigger?"

I shrugged. "I don't remember. It just happened."

He furrows his eyebrows. "I don't believe you. Something must have caused you to snap."

It is a fishing expedition and he does an even worse job than the cops who interrogated me after my arrest. He must think he is somehow in my circle of trust because he got me to fess up to a few things before but he is dead wrong.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, doc, but there was nothing. No fight, no beating, no threats. Brent was sound asleep when it happened. I killed him in cold blood."

He pursed his lips in displeasure. "If you don't give me something to work with, I can't help you. There was a week between your torture and the night of the murder, enough to cool off."

I chuckle. "Face it, doc, I am just a psychopath. There is no hope for me."

He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets the air escape slowly though his lips. I can tell he is at the end of his wits.

"I want to know every little detail about that day."

I am amused by his persistence. "Doc, it's over. You can't save me, no one can. I am a killer and there is no sugarcoating about it so do yourself a favor and go home. It will be good for you to spend some time with your wife and Mitch and leave me be."

He squints at me. "Why are you doing this? Do you want to get the death penalty?"

It might be best though I am scared at the same time, rotting in hell mostly. Yet, I can't picture myself ever leading a normal life – Brent took that from me - so what is even the point trying.

I slowly rise and glare at the mirror. "Can someone take me back? We are done here."

He seems really upset. "Sit down. I told you I decide when this interview is over."

I give him my sweetest smile. "Sorry, doc. If you like, you can ask the guards to tie me down or put me into a straightjacket but that won't change my mind. I am tired and not feeling well and want to lie down."

I walk towards the door which opens at the same time and gaze right in Roland's face. He looks oddly troubled, almost like the doc and the two exchange a glance.

Doc finally surrenders. "Take her back. I can't force her to cooperate and quite frankly, I am sick and tired of pulling teeth." He finds my eyes. "Just remember, you brought this on yourself when you sit on death row in three months' time."

How could I ever forget? He is like everyone else, probably blaming me for everything anyways. After all, I got myself into this situation.

"Don't worry, doc," I smirk. "I am a big girl and have learned to take care of myself. Enjoy your weekend."

I leave my only hope of freedom behind, amazed by my own stupidity but it is like an invisible force of doom is driving me forward. I guess asking for help has never been my strong suite.

I guess most of you are just about ready to strangle Rena so I am inviting all of you to rant and rage and get your thoughts (of course the sympathetic ones are also welcome) into the comments section.

I hope this chapter still deserves your vote - if so, the star button is right up there in the corner XD. Thanks for reading.