“Why did you seem so down when you came in today?Did something trigger that mood?”
“Matt, I don’t know.You’re the therapist — you should know why traumatized people have sudden mood swings.”I sigh heavily.“I just woke up feeling off.That’s all I’ve got.”
He watches me for a while, expression unreadable, before straightening and smoothing the wrinkles from his clothes.
“Ariana,” he says after a pause, “I want to show you something.And before I do — please don’t think I’m trying to force you to forget or suppress your feelings.You don’t have to react right now, or even say anything.Just...breathe in, and out.Alright?”
I frown, confused.His tone sounds almost like a warning.
Matt rolls his chair back, then returns with his iPad held close to his chest.When he hands it to me, I hesitate before taking it.My eyes scan the screen — and for a moment, I can’t process what I’m looking at.
The title, in bold black letters, hits me like a blow:
‘Prisoner on the Loose Found DEAD!’
And below it — his face.
Nicola.
My heart stops.
I stare at the photo, at the words, my mind blanking as though someone has pulled the plug on every thought I’ve ever had.I blink at the screen, frozen, completely numb.I can’t even feel my own body.
The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth — I’ve bitten my tongue without realizing it.I swallow hard, drag my gaze up to Matt.He’s watching me carefully, calm, composed, patient.
“M...Matt?Wh—when?”My voice breaks apart.
“Last night,” he says gently.“He was found last night.”
For a few seconds, I just sit there, breathing unevenly, feeling my pulse hammer against my ribs.And then it hits me — the slow, staggering realization that the man I’ve feared for so long is gone.
Finally, gone.
Relief crashes through me like a wave so strong I almost can’t breathe.My heart drops into my stomach.My body trembles uncontrollably as the silence stretches between us, filled only by the sound of my unsteady breaths.
For the first time in years, the air doesn’t feel heavy.
For the first time in years, I’m free.
Matt’s voice gently pulls me back.“I’m going to ask you again, Ariana,” he says softly.“How do you feel?”
I look up at Matt — and the moment our eyes meet, I break.A sob bursts out of me, but there’s a smile on my lips.
“I’ve never felt so free in my life, Matt!”I choke out between tears.“I...I can live my life now, Matt.I can live my life.”
The words pour out of me as I set the iPad down and fall into his arms.I cry — really cry — but they’re not tears of grief.They’re tears of release.Of peace.There was no room in me for mourning.Nicola was a monster.He never deserved love or pity, because he never offered anyone anything except pain and grief.
I wasn’t going to mourn him.No.
I was going to celebrate — exactly the way he would have if our roles were reversed.
Matt’s voice comes softly above my trembling shoulder.“Does the news of his death make you feel happy?”
I nod against his arm, still crying.
“Does that make me a cruel person, Matt?”
He shakes his head slowly.“Absolutely not, Ariana.It’s psychology.You’re not alone in that reaction.Many people who’ve suffered like you have feel relief when their abuser dies.It’s not cruelty — it’s freedom.”
