When the news was delivered via Janelle Stone's ex-husband that her parents had been killed in a car accident, Officer Gilbert, including Boris and other law enforcement personnel, still couldn't feel sorry for the woman. She had inadvertently done a good deed by saving others when reaching out to save herself, yes, but there wasn't much else anyone could find that was good about her, and therefore, it was hard to have much sympathy for her when bad things came her way. She had likely killed more people than anyone was aware of, including herself. On top of that, the stupid, delusional hater had little to no redeeming qualities. She basically hated everyone but herself unless she could get something from them, and she would be quick to kill anyone who even dared to do so much as annoy her if she knew she could get away with it. So what was to like? What was there to have empathy for, despite her hardships, most of which she brought about herself?
Officer Cole took the honors of breaking the news to Stone with Gilbert looking on nearby because he seemed to be the most patient with her. At first, Stone was shell-shocked. Not a single tear appeared as she tried to digest the double death.
“Your sister wants you to know that when the time comes, no matter how long it takes and no matter at which point in time you decide you want to—if you do—she’s willing to help you out. You could stay with her until you got on your feet.”
Stone just gave a barely visible nod, still seemingly very much in shock. Then she burst out wailing and screaming, and the waterworks began. The doctors insisted on giving her a sleeping pill for the sake of her health, both physically and emotionally. Law enforcement had mixed emotions about this. At the same time they wanted her healthy enough for prison, they didn’t like the idea of her being able to sleep off her misery.
When she awoke hours later to find Gilbert staring at her as usual, she was groggy and out of it for a while, and then eventually inquired about her parents' funeral.
Gilbert spoke. “I was advised that your parents are to be cremated and that there will be no official service or funeral of any kind.”
This was partially true. They were to be cremated, but there would certainly be some kind of memorial service. They just couldn’t tell Janelle that she wasn’t allowed to attend because she was in custody and considered a flight risk and dangerous.
“Remember,” Gilbert added, “you’re also not in the greatest of health yet to handle traveling that far.”
“How?”
“Well, you know where your health stands at the moment.”
“No, how did they die? Did my parents make a wrong turn or run a light? Was it a drunk driver? Was there some kind of mechanical failure?”
“Oh,” said Gilbert, sensing that Stone may want to know if any form of revenge was warranted. “I'm sorry, I don't know the details.”
“I really want to talk to my sister,” Janelle said, puffy cheeks getting wet again.
“You will.”
“No, like now. I don’t care if I’m in protective custody. She doesn’t have to know where I am, and she would never tell anyone even if she did.”
“It’s after midnight there. I’m sure she’s in mourning as well and needs her rest.”
Janelle lay back in bed with Gilbert continuing to rest her chin on her hand and her elbow on the armrest of the chair, watching her steadily.
“Don’t take this wrong as I know you’re just concerned about me, but right now I would really appreciate it if you’d quit staring at me and scrutinizing me like I was some kind of specimen.”
Gilbert was willing to give her that much at times if only to keep her calm, and not because she cared. Stone soon apologized for sounding “cold,” however, adding that the shock of losing both parents at once didn’t exactly put one in a great mood and frame of mind.
Gilbert kept her thoughts to herself about the fact that the nutjob never seemed to be in a good mood or the right frame of mind anyway.
Janelle didn’t say much more other than she couldn’t believe it, and kept most of her thoughts in her “private” journal. They bounced between grieving over her parents, how shocked she was yet grateful for her sister’s offer of assistance despite them not getting along well at times, and her suspicions about whether or not Gilbert really liked her.
This woman claims to care about me, to like me, and to get me and all that stuff. She has implied that she’ll be there for me if I’m interested in a relationship with her, should I choose to stay with her and not go to my sister’s place. The thing is that her tone and expression don’t go with her words. Saying and implying something is one thing, but your behavior is another. If she really liked me all this time, then why sit and stare at me so coldly so much of the time and make me feel so uncomfortable? Even if I hadn’t spoken up about it, it’s a no-brainer that when you sit and stare at someone for so long, you’re gonna make them feel uncomfortable. This was never a look of concern and empathy but one of scorn and judgment. I just don’t see any fondness in her eyes.
Going back to the beginning when she first started her little staring sessions, when I would first wake up, there was never any pleasant, cheerful “Good morning” or “How do you feel?” Just her sitting and staring at me with a disgusted and critical gaze.
It was almost like she was waiting for me to say something, but I have no idea what it was she expected or wanted me to say other than asking her to stop staring at me.
One time, I got up to pee in the middle of the night, got back into bed, and struggled to get the covers over me that had gotten twisted around my feet. She was wide awake and staring at me, yet never made so much as a move to help me. Why would you just sit there if you cared about the person? There are all kinds of incidents I can think of where her actions, expression, and words—or better yet, lack of them—just don’t jive with liking someone. If I liked someone, I would want to know how they were doing, and I would want to help them in any way I could. I wouldn’t want to continually do things I knew made them uncomfortable either. I would value their space and privacy when I knew they needed it. I wouldn’t hover and smother them, no matter how much I loved being around them. Even when I was stunned by the news of the death of my parents, I was still with it enough to see the expression on people’s faces out of the corner of my eye, and it was the same fixed, emotionless gaze. Never once did she—or any of the others but a few of the nurses—offer any kind of condolences. The only one on the law enforcement side that seems to have at least somewhat of a heart is Officer Cole.
Even if Gilbert really does like me, do I like her? Well, I don’t know about that. I may like a woman in uniform, but I need more than that. She just seems way too cold for me, and while she has a great body, her face is kinda boring. So, do I do what’s convenient if she does like me, or do I be true to myself? I think I know the answer to that one.
The biggest question is why she would pretend to like me if she doesn’t. Why the hell would you do that to someone?
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