Lost

  I remember my mother squeezing my hand at that point like she must have always known Peter had come to see me after I was raped. She had to have known because I recovered too quickly for a rape victim. But I didn't recover, I just healed a little faster because of Peter's visit. I healed a little after Peter’s visit because all the bad was loved out of my apartment by him.

  When David suddenly exhaled, I watched him closely. Turning, he stood from his knees and grabbed a chair from my dining room like he needed the moment to compose himself. He walked slowly and shook his head more than once while he walked back and placed the chair in front of me. Shaking his head again, David slumped down into the chair and exhaled again loudly in the silence of my living room.

  Waiting, I felt my brothers arm tense up behind me, and I felt the sweat between my mom's hand and my own.

  I was nervous as hell at what David was going to say about Peter, but I needed to know so I could maybe help him with his investigation. I needed to help Peter however I could so he would be free from the case that had caused him to look terrible, get shot, and seem defeated.

  Peter seemed almost resigned to the fact that the case was going to kill him, and I couldn't stand to see him hurt.

  “I'll do anything to help him with this case, David. Just tell me what I need to do to help him finish up so he can be safe again,” I whispered another absolute to everyone in the room.

  Nodding, David took another moment that dragged out forever as my body was losing the fight against the shakes and the exhaustion that was quickly devouring me.

  CHAPTER 40

  David waited after my question, looking like he wasn't sure how much information about Peter's case he should tell me, until he finally did speak.

  “Sophie... Peter isn’t a cop. He's a paranoid schizophrenic,” he said and paused. Almost like he understood I didn't know what the hell he was saying, he paused as I stared at him.

  “Do you understand me?” He asked but continued past my pause. “Peter is a paranoid schizophrenic and he's having an acute episode right now. He's been missing off and on for a few months from his residence, and he no longer has a grip on reality. Right now, he's lost,” David said while visibly choking up.

  I knew I heard him, but I didn't hear him at all. Nothing he said made any sense, and everything he said was bullshit. For a moment I just stared at the stranger in front of me and I wanted to both laugh at him and punch him in the face.

  I was stunned beyond words. But my mom wasn't. In classic Mama-Bear fashion, my mom voiced exactly what I was thinking.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?!” My mom yelled as I jumped from the sudden chaos of sound, and then laughed at the absurdity of our situation.

  “Peter has been a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic since he was 23 years old. After a terrible car accident which either triggered the onset of the schizophrenia, or was the pre-courser, we don't know. But after the accident while he was trying to recover, he was just never the same. Sophie, I know this is a lot to take in but I'm telling you the truth. Peter is-”

  “You're lying,” I growled low in my throat.

  “I'm not lying. Carrie and Kara can be here in minutes if you want, and they'll tell you anything you want to know. They've been caring for Peter for almost 9 years, and they know everything about schizophrenia you could ever want to know. I just have to call-”

  “You're a fucking liar!” I screamed. Catching my breath, I was stunned. I was whatever is beyond stunned. I was so far gone, there simply were no words to describe me in that moment.

  “Peter has very good lucid times, for many months at a time. He seems normal and almost healthy, but then he stops taking his meds, and he gets really sick again. He can't function or control his impulses, or even really stop his behavior. Peter has been living in a halfway house for the better part of the last 4 years and overall he's doing really well. But then he has these episodes and he can't get better until he is physically forced to. He is usually hospitalized for a few weeks until the schizophrenia is medically controlled again and then he is placed back in the residence until another uncontrollable episode occurs,” David continued speaking quickly. Almost like if he was quick I wouldn't stop him or laugh at him or even just lose my mind with all this crazy that was choking me from the inside out.

  “Peter stopped taking his medication again last year just before he broke up with you and Kara and Carrie knew he was getting bad again.”

  “Was that the fight at the party?”

  “Yes. They knew he was losing it again because he was starting to mumble and talk to himself again, and Kara visited him the day before at his residence to talk about their uncle and she knew he was getting sick again. Not that he isn't always sick, but when he's lucid, sometimes it's almost easy to forget he's actually a ticking time bomb waiting for the next episode to make him really sick again. But Kara knew and was trying to get him help, and trying to keep you away from it all, and trying to keep you both safe but he-”

  “Peter never would've hurt me,” I moaned as I felt the first tears slide down my cheeks. I felt them and that's when I realized I was starting to believe David a little. I was starting to believe his unbelievable story because I was no longer ready to rip his face off. Instead, I was crying from the warped reality I was slowly facing.

  “You don't know that. Peter isn't himself when-”

  “I DO know that. He never once hurt me,” I said but then jolted in my own skin. Remembering the time he lost it when I took too long getting coffee, I knew I was afraid of him physically that day. I knew the way he tossed me around he could hurt me, but then he never acted like that again, so I let it go until I forgot about it totally.

  “What are you thinking about? Did Peter ever hurt you?” David asked.

  “No...”

  “Sophie, you're moaning and staring off like something happened,” my mom pushed.

  “It's nothing. Um...” Turning back to David I was trying so hard to except what I was hearing, but I was losing the battle between listening and shutting down.

  “Ask me anything, Sophie. Peter's in a lot of trouble, legally, though I think most of the guys involved in yesterday's altercation will go lightly on him, I know charges are still going to be pressed, and I know Peter will have to spend some time in a facility. But I'll try-”

  “How did he know so much police stuff. Like how did he actually hide he was sick but convince me and other people he was a cop. Isn't that weird? How couldn't I know?” I asked the question I was dying to understand.

  How could I not know the man I absolutely loved beyond all reason was mentally ill? How could I essentially live with a man for 3 months but not see he was sick? How could he hide it so well from me?

  I then wondered if he did hide it well from me at all. Maybe I just loved him so much I didn't want to see anything wrong with him. Or maybe I couldn't believe he wasn't what I wanted because he was everything I wanted so much.

  Maybe I was the delusional, schizophrenic one I thought which made me laugh. Just a little laugh, nothing insane or scary. Just a laugh of complete confusion.

  “Sophie,” my mom said gently like she was trying to pull me back again.

  “Um, I'm a cop, and Peter was going to be a cop too before he got sick, and he's obsessed with cop shows and documentaries, and-”

  That was it. Bursting out into a real, loud, horrifying laugh, I couldn't stop myself.

  “Oh my god! He's a too much TV watching Fucktard!” I yelled as my previously silent brother burst out laughing with me. To my mom and David's horror, Steven and I laughed like crazy people in front of two people who thought we were crazy.

  Laughing, of course, slowly turned into sobbing. Like every movie scene I've ever witnessed, my laughter faded to a snotty-nosed, throat drying sobbing that consumed me.

  Crying, I let everything David said take me away from the life I had wanted with Peter.

  Crying for the thousandth time since the day I met him
, I was finally truly tired of my life and Peter's involvement in it.

  After giving me the time and space needed to come back down, David continued sitting in the chair and my mom stayed silent beside me. Steven was no longer laughing, and the return of silence cleared out my mind a little.

  “Does everyone know? Like all his friends? Because I know they don't know at Sunshine and Life, so...” But I lost my question. What I really wanted to have was confirmation that I wasn't some psycho, delusional loser who wanted to be adored so badly, I couldn't see any issues in front of my own face.

  “Peter has no friends, Sophie. Well, other than Kara, Kara's husband Dylan, Carrie, and me.”

  “Yes, he does. He has Cam who he plays in a band with and his wife Emily, and even his ex-girlfriend Patricia and her husband, and I think he mentioned a Dave... Oh! Is that you?”

  But David stayed silent. Staring at his face, I actually saw a look of sadness wash over him, and I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was the kind of tangible sadness on his face that I knew intimately.

  “Yes, I'm Dave,” he choked. With tears filling his eyes, David continued. “Patricia Cooper, Cam Donaldson and Emily Tyler died in a car accident that Peter and I survived when we were 23. It was awful, and I was the least hurt, followed by Peter because we were in the front seats, but Emily, Cam and Peter's fiancé Patricia were all in the back-” I gasped out loud as he finished. “But they were killed nearly instantly when we were crushed by a truck that hit us from behind.”

  Crying out I tried to understand. “But he said-”

  “Peter always has a story about how he and Patricia broke up. It's like he imagines a different ending for them than the sad reality of it. And of course he suffered survivor's guilt, like I did, but then he changed and the schizophrenia became apparent, and Peter says whatever he wants about their deaths, because nobody wants to remember how they really died…” He said again with so much sadness I suddenly felt like I needed to comfort him a little.

  “Peter was devastated over the accident while he recovered from his injuries. He got a tattoo for Patricia, and seemed so depressed afterward that nobody could help him, but it was most likely the onset of the schizophrenia making him seem so out or it, or depressed, or just awful after the accident.”

  “The tattoo on his arm… P.C.”

  “Patricia Cooper.”

  “I thought… Oh, it wasn’t his initials like I thought,” I moaned to another long, sad silence.

  “What about his pink car?” Steven asked unemotionally, like he was trying to change the subject for us.

  “That's Kara's, obviously,” he grinned. Though I had only met her twice, somehow even I understood the grin. Kara seems like she'd have a hot pink car. “Peter steals it sometimes. Did he when you were together?” He asked as I nodded.

  “But he has a house…?”

  “Actually, he had a house. He bought it only a few months before the accident when we were 23, and he was so proud of himself. So after he was diagnosed, Kara lived in the house with him for a few years while he was in and out of the hospital, but then she met Dylan, and they wanted to get married. So Kara begged Peter to understand that she wanted to buy a different house with Dylan, and Peter was lucid enough at the time to understand, but he was very sad about selling it. He’s never really been able to let that house go. We’ve even had to put a restraining order in effect, so Peter wouldn’t go there all the time, but we know he still goes way too frequently for the current owner,” David said with a little frustration.

  “Um, how could he spend so much time with me? We were together nearly every day for over for 3 months.” That question stumped me totally.

  “Well, when Peter's schizophrenia is controlled they loosen the reins a little at his residence. Plus, he always visits Carrie and me, and Kara, and even his parents for overnights, so his curfew is rarely monitored. And he's been sick for a long time, so unless the staff psychiatrist deems him unwell, or slipping back into an episode, Peter is free to come and go as he pleases before the 10:00 curfew.”

  “But every day?” I asked still surprised by the lack of security or something for a paranoid schizophrenic.

  “No, not every day, but it is a semi-voluntary residence, where patients sign up for the rules and medical evaluations, and inevitable treatment they may need when their sickness is acute, only when they're lucid. So basically, when Peter is aware of what's going on, and taking his medication as prescribed, he's given the freedom to come and go. But because he signed all the forms required for his psych evaluations 3 times a week, he is also offered a relative safety net in case he suffers another acute episode.”

  “But we went away twice for the weekend when we were together.”

  “He probably lied and said he was going to Kara’s or his parents for the weekend, so he was granted a 3 day pass. Schizophrenia isn’t treated like it used to be, Sophie. Schizophrenics aren’t subjected to hospital stays, or even to being committed against their will. The Psychiatric community has changed their views on schizophrenia and actually treat it as more of an affliction, with outside services and family intervention to allow the Schizophrenic to have as normal a life as possible.”

  “But when he would go to work he-“

  “He landscapes for Kara’s husband, but he stopped for a while to spend his days with you I assume. And then he really became sick last year

  and-“

  “I don’t understand. He can go out whenever he wants and it’s just, I don’t know…”

  “It works, Sophie. Well, until the last year and a half it worked. Peter would even stay with us or at Kara’s when he was well for a while, and then he'd go back himself when the voices started talking again as he put it. But he was really sick last year, then got better, then really sick again this February, and that's basically the last any of us really saw of him. But we looked everywhere. Trust me.”

  “For almost 2 months? But you're a cop,” I said stupidly.

  Nodding yes, David exhaled hard again while staring at me. “I am a cop, so it was very hard for me not being able to find him. My captain knows all about Peter, and even my buddies on the force know him, so believe me, everyone I know was looking, but we just couldn't find him. It's like he vanished until he triggered the alarm in my garage. He simply vanished after he heard about you in February,” he said then stopped abruptly.

  Actually everything stopped with his words. My mom’s hand stopped soothing mine, and I think Steven just stopped breathing altogether.

  The room was silent and so still, I waited for anything to release me from the stillness I was drowning in.

  “You told him I was raped?” I croaked.

  “No,” he said shaking his head again. “But I did tell his staff psychiatrist when I found out, and we assume Peter read over his own file one afternoon when he was alone for his evaluation. I guess he played it cool throughout the exam, but bolted from the residency immediately afterward. And I'm assuming that's when you saw him in February?” He asked to my silent tears as I nodded.

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone about Peter? I don’t understand why Dent and Dolby were looking for Peter but you didn’t tell them who he was. Or did you? Did they always know who Peter was?”

  “No. Your assault was obviously posted on the bulletin board at our precinct and I recognized your picture. But I didn’t tell Dolby I knew who you were and I didn’t tell Peter what happened to you. I didn’t even tell Carrie. I thought it was safer for Peter and you to stay quiet, and I only told his resident Psychiatrist, so he was prepared in case Peter ever found out, which he did. And again, I assume that’s when he went to see you in February?”

  “Yes, he came to me to help me get better,” I cried again.

  At that point I was truly, and completely done. I didn't have any tears left, and I wasn't capable of thinking or feeling any more. The last 2 days had stretched out to years for me, and I was so done, I needed to sleep. I needed to sleep for a week b
efore I could even attempt to deal with every emotion I had crushing my chest and blowing my mind.

  I needed to sleep until I could function and only then could I deal with Peter.

  “There's one more thing, Sophie,” David said quietly, and as I blew out a hard breath I remember thinking, of course there is. 'Cause this shit couldn't possibly be over for me.

  “The man who raped you was also a resident at Gravenhearst with Peter,” and as I screamed a little in shock and frustration, my mother stood quickly, grabbing me up in her arms.

  “Enough! Just leave her alone for now, okay? She doesn't need to hear any more of all this shit, and neither do I! Just let her deal with one bombshell at a time, okay?!” My mom yelled at David while I shook in her arms.

  “I wanted her to know so she wasn't surprised later. I thought it best to tell her everything now, so she could deal with it all at once,” David said sounded honestly saddened by the circumstances. “Sophie, this is the last thing, I promise. Detective Dent knew about Peter from me, but not that he was your Peter. And when she told me about Gravenhearst when they picked up McGregor, I knew what was going on. I knew he knew Peter so after Dent and I talked a little, she asked McGregor a few more questions, and he confessed to everything. He took a key of yours from Peter, and he hurt you because he's insane and he thought he wanted what Peter loved so much. He wasn't trying-”

  “ENOUGH! Holy shit! Enough. Give her a fucking break,” my mom yelled again.