“So, he’s dead. Therefore, you don’t have to be afraid that he’s coming after you anymore, correct?”
She nodded slowly. “Correct.”
“Yet you still run, as if he’s around every corner.”
The woman looked at Kate with a haunted expression. “I feel guilty,” she whispered.
“Guilty?”
“Yes, he committed suicide because of me.”
“Or he committed suicide because of his own actions and his own thoughts and his own beliefs,” Kate explained. “You can’t take that on.”
The woman stared at her. “That’s just what the shrink told me.”
“Are you on any medication?” Kate asked.
She nodded slowly. “Yes, but I’ve had the dose cut way back this last year.”
Kate’s heart sank because, as far as the courts go, this woman’s statement would likely get completely pulverized on the stand, as they broke it apart and made it sound like she was imagining someone around every corner. Kate added, “Pleasetake care of yourself when you’re back out there. And maybe find another route to run or choose a different time and maybe not run quite so much.”
“It always feels like I have to run,” she stated slowly.
“But he’s gone, so he can’t chase you anymore.”
“I know. I know,” she agreed, “but the last time he chased me, I wasn’t fit enough to keep running,” she shared sadly. “So he caught me. Since then, it’s all I can do. I run all the time to make sure that, if it ever happens again, I’ll be fit enough to get away.”
Kate’s heart ached with pain, as she realized just how much victimology ran true in this case. “And that in itself can have you just as tied up into this whole pain and terror loop as having this guy in your life did. He’s not in your life anymore, and you’ve done everything you can to be strong and fit,” she declared. “You don’t have to run constantly in order to get away because it’s over.”
“Is it?” she asked, with a bitter look. “If it isn’t him, won’t it just be somebody else?”
“You mean, like this current killer?”
“Yes, like him. Exactly,” she cried out. “The last thing I want to do is get caught by him. I just can’t do it,” she declared. “I can’t be a captive again.”
At her wording, Kate’s heart went out to her. “And you said he caught you last time?”
She nodded. “He did, and it was terrible. I can’t do that again. I just can’t.” And she hopped to her feet, pacing around the room, as if desperate to get away.
“Calm down,” Kate murmured. “When you get anxious, you need to remember he’s dead.”
“He’s dead, yes,” she agreed, “but the other assholes in the world aren’t. Once you’re a victim, it’s like they can smell you somehow, and they know. They just know that you’ve been a victim once, and you’ll be an easy victim again.”
“Yet that theory doesn’t hold,” Kate disagreed in a calm manner. “Once you’ve been a victim, you often make a decision that you’ll never be a victim again.”
“Yes,” she said, turning to look at her. “Exactly. I’ll never be a victim again.”
“And I think these killers know that you’ll fight too hard, that you’ll make life too difficult for them. And they’re just after easy targets.”
The woman stared at her. “Do you think so?”
“Yes, I know so. You’ve been a victim, and I have in some ways too,” she stated. “Not the same as what you’ve been through. Nobody can ever really know, even if they say they understand. Nobody really ever understands because every situation is different.”
She stood still, focused on Kate. “No, but you do.”
“To a certain extent, yes,” she said, “and I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through, but you can’t let him still have that power over you. Even now, he’s destroying your life.”
“But running is good for me.”