The police had come and he had listened as if he were in a daze to the sounds of their voices as they began to investigate their claims. He couldn't understand the meanings behind the words, couldn't decipher what was going on. He blamed it on fear, blamed it on the anxiousness that flooded his veins relentlessly. He wanted to scream at them, tell them that he wasn't crazy because he could tell just what it was they were thinking. Long drawn out thoughts about his sanity. There was no one on the property, there was nothing stabbed through on the door and there wasn't blood smeared anywhere. It was only Jared here and that was the evidence they could have.
He was going to have to sit there and listen to them talk about his stress, about how he should take a break from being holed up in the attic, painting away. They knew about his isolation, they understood how he managed to gather his inspiration. Creativity was often a curious thing to most observers. They didn't understand it, couldn't bring themselves to look past the details and see just what was going on with him. It wasn't stress. Everything Jared had seen had been real.
Soon enough they were mentioning leaving, nothing was to be found here, there was no reason to keep on looking. They were just waiting around to leave however as if they were hesitant to leave someone like him alone. As if this was not his first time with such a strange outburst, falling into a daze and watching the world move by through hollow eyes. There was no reason for them to look at him that way, was there? No reason at all and yet they weren't moving, they weren't going anywhere. They just stood there talking about leaving but not even making a single move.
Jared wanted to ask them what was keeping them there. Why they were standing around acting as if they cared. They obviously didn't care if they didn't continue searching for what he had seen. Jared hated false sympathy, He had enough of that before, when his past reached down into his mind and blurred his present. He didn't want to go back there but these officers and their hidden nonchalance was bringing those memories back. Why couldn't everyone be honest? Honesty was the sole trait in someone that he couldn't help but treasure- even if there wasn't always honesty on his part.
Finally the front door opened and Jared's eyes lifted to find Abigail standing there, worried expression written across her delicate features. He didn't want her here, he didn't want her to have to see him this way, didn't want her to know that he had lost a bit of himself to unnerving fear. But she had been called and the lead officer was standing with her talking in a low tone about Jared, telling her what it was he had claimed to see. She didn't look at Jared any differently as she listened, in fact her features softened.
"Mr. Leto, we'll be going now." The lead officer had moved away from Abigail and was now standing in front of him where he was sitting slumped on the couch. The officer's eyes were filled with that same false sense of compassion, softening and then hardening as if he wasn't sure how to make his features hold an emotion as tender as that. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a card, written on it was his information, on the back was his number. "Call me if you need anything, alright? Mr. Leto?"
He was trying to get Jared's attention, trying to look him in the eyes where there was nothing but a void looking back at him. A void of being misunderstood, of having a finger pointed at him. He wasn't insane, he knew what he saw and the markings of trauma were evident there in his eyes. Didn't they see that? Or in there hast to hope that nothing like that would ever happen did they wish to simply overlook it like it wasn't true at all? There was no room for violence or disturbances here, they would get to the bottom of Jared's thinking- because that was all it was.
A simple nod was given to the officer, a slow nod before he lifted his hand and pushed his fingers back through his hair. It was so quiet, a pin drop could be heard and would echo around the area if someone were to let it fall now. Jared hated the empty reverberations that would affect his senses and make him feel all the more hollow. Didn't they know what their disbelief did to him? That he was quietly judging his own sanity. Maybe he was simply alone too much.
A few more words were said to Abigail before she saw the officers out. Mere shadows placed and flickered along the walls, the four walls echoing with the images. Jared stretched his body out, his folded hands tucked under his face as a slow and almost ragged breath escaping his lips. His eyes were closed, trying to ignore the images that could be seen on his eyelids, quiet images that wouldn't disappear. The doors bleeding wound, the knife, the figure knocking at the door with those piercing blue eyes and the memories that passed through his mind vividly all over again. He didn't want to relive those moments. Not now. Not ever.
Finally they were alone and the feeling of being scrutinized, of being kicked into the dust of possible institutionalization. If it weren't for the acclaim of his name would they have taken him away immediately? Would they have taken one look at him and told Abigail that he was raving, that everything he said was not merely stress but was, in fact, a product of his own imagination? Which was the truth in the end? Was Jared insane? Under pressing stress? Or had he truly seen everything that he had described to the police?
He felt the couch dip beside him and slowly he turned his eyes to face Abigail. Those gentle worried eyes looked back at him and he wanted to unburden himself to her, wanted to part his lips and tell her that if she was wise she would quickly turn on her heel and run. There was nothing for her here but the possibility of him seeing falsities in the truth and truth amidst the lies. He wanted to discern but sometimes the barrier between comprehension and doubt grew far too thin.
But those words wouldn't come out. He couldn't offer anything like that to her who was seeking assurance that she hadn't invested so much in, what would ultimately be, a waste of her time. She was looking for him to sink into her, to blame stress as the officers had done and then brush off this situation as if it had never happened. His name would outweigh the tone of gossip and the town would not buzz with anything that could probably be off putting. He knew that if he loved her he would give that to her. How could he deny that gentle pleading in her eyes?
"Where are the kids?" He softly asked, voice dry and low. His eyes never left hers and for a moment all he wanted to do was lash out, scream, even cry.
"At a friends house. For the night." As if their calming presence being gone from within the structure of the home would benefit his state of mind in the end. As if the dark would suddenly clear because his children were not there. She seemed to think just that. "Jared....what's going on?" She softly asked, hand reaching out and gently tracing her fingertips along his neck.
He took in a breath, hating the weight of the question, the furious tone that echoed through him. She wouldn't believe him, she didn't believe him. She believed in the truth of what the officers said. So instead of the truth he simply lowered himself to rest in her lap, letting out a small breath as he felt the feeling of her fingers brush through his hair. "Nothing...." He whispered. "...I'm just tired." He wanted to ignore the foreboding feeling inside of him. Wanted to get lost in her like she wanted him to but all he kept seeing was the wound in the door. That gaping wound that felt like the fear building inside of his own chest.
