By reason of insanity

46

That evening, Catherine hit rock bottom. Depression reached out to embrace her as the last vestiges of hope faded away. Her visitors were fewer that night, and she saw the first signs of skepticism even among her closest friends. Her sister, Kelsey, always upbeat, couldn't manage a smile. And Cat couldn't blame her; she had her own doubts.

The new evidence seemed to shake even the confidence of Marc Boland, who stopped by to see how Cat was doing. He asked her point-blank questions about the paper towels, but Cat couldn't help. She could think of no way those paper towels, with their incriminating evidence, could have ended up in her neighbor's trash. She still suspected it was a setup, she told Bo, and he tended to agree with her. But tonight, unlike their prior visits, he warned Cat that this would be a tough trial and that nothing was guaranteed. Cat nodded stoically, too numb for any emotional reaction. She wondered if Quinn Newberg would stay on the case.

Cat promised Bo that she would cancel her interview with the Tidewater Times. Cat's editor reacted by sending his own message through a coworker who visited Cat-the paper wouldn't be able to run Cat's journal from jail. They had already done a similar series right after Cat's contempt sentence, the coworker explained. And, to be frank, the public was obsessing over Cat, wondering whether she was a ruthless serial killer. People probably weren't in any mood to read her complaints about jail food or lack of a soft bed.

In other words, thought Cat, my own paper has already convicted me. That troubled Cat the most-that her coworkers and some of her friends had turned so quickly against her.

That night in the cell, Cat did her best to ignore Holly's mindless rants. Holly, of course, had heard about the new evidence against Cat and prowled around the cell, complaining about being cellmates with a serial killer. Holly would recite the evidence over and over and tell Cat to face it, she was going to get the needle.

Cat shook her head in disgust. "Take your medication."

"Mind your own business, Barbie."

Minutes dragged by, and eventually Holly settled down. When the lights went out for lockdown, Cat sat in her bed with her back to the wall, staring into the dark void of the cell. Before long, Holly's rhythmic breathing and occasional snorting indicated she had fallen asleep. It gave Cat time to think and process the emotions she had been holding at bay through most of the day.

More than anything, Cat was struck by the realization that she needed help. She had always been strong, savvy, and self-sufficient. But now, she was merely Catherine O'Rourke, inmate number 08-317. She needed help from the Widows to survive prison. She needed Marc Boland and Quinn Newberg to help her survive the trial. She needed family and friends for emotional support.

And for the first time in her life, she realized how much she needed professional psychiatric help. Cat could repress her emotions and avoid issues with the best of them. But actually dealing with her emotions required vulnerability. Until she had nothing left to lose, she just wasn't willing to be quite that vulnerable.

The stigma of seeking psychiatric help no longer mattered. Who cares about such things when most of the world thinks you're a serial killer?

She would check out what types of services were available first thing in the morning. In the meantime, she lay on her side and curled up on the mattress. She wouldn't go to sleep, she promised herself, but she could at least lie down in a more comfortable position.

As she relaxed, her swirling thoughts seemed to calm, like the still waters of a river following a section of harrowing whitewater. She tucked her hands up under her pillow and closed her eyes. She drifted in and out for a few minutes, mindful of the danger lurking in her own cell but exhausted to the bone.

Ten minutes later, Cat fell into a fitful sleep.