Snippet #2796512

The days after the memorial service were hard. The panic attacks kept coming, and they were getting harder and harder to hide. He wasn't sleeping, was hardly eating unless someone reminded him to, had even stopped going around to Erin's to drink. Everybody thought he had done it. He knew it. He could see it in their eyes when they looked at him. Their expressions had shifted from one of pity to one of vague disgust. They knew it but there was no proof. Everything they had on him was circumstantial. But everything clearing him was also circumstantial. It was only a matter of time and he could feel the imposing threat looming over him.

Eventually, one of his bandmates came round to check in on him. Having found Soren on hour 39 of no sleep, he physically drove Soren to his doctor's office. Soren emerged from the doctor's office with a cocktail of sleeping tablets and anti-anxiety medication and an order to come back in a few days for therapy sessions. Soren didn't want to do any of the above, but the medication at least made him feel human enough to get through the therapy session. He'd had two sessions by the time the dinner party came around. The dinner party was less his idea and more of a "suggestion" from his therapist that felt more like an order. But having other people around made him feel a little less terrible, so he agreed.

But when the morning finally rolled around, things didn't play out exactly as he'd hoped. Because he woke up to a call from the cops, asking him to go back into the station for an interview. He begrudgingly agreed and went in as soon as he was dressed. He hoped it was a technicality, something they just needed to clear up.

He was sorely mistaken. They’d gone through Lauren’s phone, and they’d found… well. He had no idea how she’d gotten them. Lauren was smart, but she wasn’t exactly a hacker. But it didn’t matter. The police had thought they had him. They thought they’d found a motive. But two things put doubt in their mind. First of all, they’d crossmatched his DNA with DNA found under Lauren’s fingernails, and it wasn’t a match. Other witness statements aligned with his in that Lauren had been seen alive after he’d left the room. And their behavioural expert had confirmed that his reaction to seeing the photos was that of somebody discovering that for the first time.

But he couldn’t get the photos out of his head. Lauren had had those for weeks. She could have done anything she liked with them. So why had she kept them? What had she planned to do with them? He shouldn’t have kept the photos. They gave too much away, gave too much, but… it was a reminder that he had been happy. That good things could still happen.

He got home and wanted to do nothing more than just… try and deal with the aftermath of this. But instead, he was faced with an afternoon of cooking and prep. He tried to carry on as normal, but quickly found himself getting overwhelmed. So he rang Rebecca, who agreed to come over. The minute she saw his face, she sat him down, told him to relax, and took over some of the prep as he talked. He told her everything. How could he not? He told her about his morning, about the photos, about everything that had happened. And it didn’t make it go away, but it made it feel a little more manageable, calm enough to help her with the prep.

It was only when he looked at his watch to discover that everyone else was arriving soon and realised he was still a bit of a mess, physically and mentally. “Shit, Rebecca. I need to get changed, I need to… I need to tidy up the place… Shit, I need to take my meds…” he said, jumping to his feet and running a hand through his hair.