Short Stories & the Like


I chewed on the skin around my thumb as my right foot tapped repeatedly. I focused on the bottom of the picture frame holding her diploma, that was just above her head so it appeared I was looking at her. She smiled as she shifted in the chair, a firm grasp on her clipboard and pen.

“Nova, I know this will be difficult– reliving all that happened. But your friends and family are worried about you. Rightfully so, we all think that by talking it out in a non-defensive setting will help you be able to get over it.”

I shifted my gaze to her, with an eyebrow raised, my foot tapping momentarily stopping.

“Only crazy people can get over killing someone. And despite what my ex would say– I’m not.” I shifted my gaze back and the tapping resumed.

“It was self defense. The police and court all agreed.” She said smiling again, her way of trying to get me to relax and trust her enough to bare my soul.

It made me cringe inside. I wasn’t crazy as the court psychologist had determined, but I was not the same girl I once was. And I didn’t think any amount of grief counseling would fix that. The last eight months had been more than hell. I didn’t sleep good anymore, dreams of that night regularly disturbed my dreams. I was always on edge on, and the littlest things made me snap. I hated that I had been so naive.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “But what if it wasn’t self defense?”….

To be continued…

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