The Conscience of Annalise (Part 2)
Part 1
"Sawyer won't be bullying anyone anymore," his response carried a mix of satisfaction and menace. It frightened Annalise. She stared at the door as if waiting for the punchline of what had to be a sick joke, but there was no laughter offered by Malcolm.
"Oh my God, Mal," she began shakily. "What did you do to her?"
"You hated her," he returned. "She victimized you every day..."
"Mal, just tell me what happened. What did you do?"
"Stop making this about me!" Malcolm shot back behind a powerful strike against the door. "You're the one who wanted this! You said that you wished she was dead! You practically begged me to kill her! STOP-MAKING-THIS-ABOUT-ME!"
The weight of the confession finally sunk Annalise to her knees. She was suddenly out of breath, as though it had been her screaming at the top of her lungs on the other side of the door.
"Mal, please tell me you didn't..." she let out weakly. "How could you...how could you do something like that?"
"Are you sad that she's gone?"
His callous voice injected a new vigor into Annalise. She leapt from the tile and lashed out on the door frame. "How could you!"
"Answer my question first," Malcolm returned.
"This isn't a game, Mal! You killed somebody!" Annalise screamed, again beating the door. "You're freaking crazy!"
"Just answer my question, Annie..."
"Don't call me that, asshole!" she shot back. "I can't believe you would...I don't even know who you are anymore."
Annalise heard the floor outside creek and quickly stepped back from the door.
"Think Annalise," Malcolm started again, his voice was now the calmer of the pair. "How good have these last few days been? How many times did you have to vent about Sawyer in your little notebook?"
How did he know about the diary?
"Leave me alone," she replied.
"Just think for a moment, okay? Doesn't it feel better knowing that she'll never bother you again? Doesn't it just feel right?"
"You..." Annalise paused as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror of the medicine cabinet. Her eyes widened as she stepped closer towards it. Her face was mostly pale and glossy from the steady stream of frantic tears flowing down her cheeks. But her lips carried a much different impression as the sides were bent upwards in what at first glance appeared to be a smile.
Suddenly, a ghastly truth became evident in her mind: she was enjoying life more now with her antagonist gone. But the thought was fleeting and Annalise's stomach churned at the reflection in the mirror. She quickly banished the expression and turned back toward the door.
"You need to go," she said. "Now! Please just leave me alone."
"I want to help you," Malcolm returned. "You deserve a better life."
"Jesus, Mal you sound like a Goddamn psycho," Annalise said. She shrunk down to sit on the edge of the bathtub and buried her face into her shaking palms. "Please, just go. Leave me alone."
"What about Steve?"
Annalise's heart seemed to skip at the mention of her step-father's name. She looked back at the bathroom door, imagining Malcolm on the other side. She imagined him leaning his back against it like he would if waiting for her outside of the movie theater restrooms. But unlike their previous dates, tonight's had taken a sadistic turn.
"What about Steve?" she held her breath as soon as the last syllable had left her mouth.
"Sawyer won't be bullying anyone anymore," his response carried a mix of satisfaction and menace. It frightened Annalise. She stared at the door as if waiting for the punchline of what had to be a sick joke, but there was no laughter offered by Malcolm.
"Oh my God, Mal," she began shakily. "What did you do to her?"
"You hated her," he returned. "She victimized you every day..."
"Mal, just tell me what happened. What did you do?"
"Stop making this about me!" Malcolm shot back behind a powerful strike against the door. "You're the one who wanted this! You said that you wished she was dead! You practically begged me to kill her! STOP-MAKING-THIS-ABOUT-ME!"
The weight of the confession finally sunk Annalise to her knees. She was suddenly out of breath, as though it had been her screaming at the top of her lungs on the other side of the door.
"Mal, please tell me you didn't..." she let out weakly. "How could you...how could you do something like that?"
"Are you sad that she's gone?"
His callous voice injected a new vigor into Annalise. She leapt from the tile and lashed out on the door frame. "How could you!"
"Answer my question first," Malcolm returned.
"This isn't a game, Mal! You killed somebody!" Annalise screamed, again beating the door. "You're freaking crazy!"
"Just answer my question, Annie..."
"Don't call me that, asshole!" she shot back. "I can't believe you would...I don't even know who you are anymore."
Annalise heard the floor outside creek and quickly stepped back from the door.
"Think Annalise," Malcolm started again, his voice was now the calmer of the pair. "How good have these last few days been? How many times did you have to vent about Sawyer in your little notebook?"
How did he know about the diary?
"Leave me alone," she replied.
"Just think for a moment, okay? Doesn't it feel better knowing that she'll never bother you again? Doesn't it just feel right?"
"You..." Annalise paused as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror of the medicine cabinet. Her eyes widened as she stepped closer towards it. Her face was mostly pale and glossy from the steady stream of frantic tears flowing down her cheeks. But her lips carried a much different impression as the sides were bent upwards in what at first glance appeared to be a smile.
Suddenly, a ghastly truth became evident in her mind: she was enjoying life more now with her antagonist gone. But the thought was fleeting and Annalise's stomach churned at the reflection in the mirror. She quickly banished the expression and turned back toward the door.
"You need to go," she said. "Now! Please just leave me alone."
"I want to help you," Malcolm returned. "You deserve a better life."
"Jesus, Mal you sound like a Goddamn psycho," Annalise said. She shrunk down to sit on the edge of the bathtub and buried her face into her shaking palms. "Please, just go. Leave me alone."
"What about Steve?"
Annalise's heart seemed to skip at the mention of her step-father's name. She looked back at the bathroom door, imagining Malcolm on the other side. She imagined him leaning his back against it like he would if waiting for her outside of the movie theater restrooms. But unlike their previous dates, tonight's had taken a sadistic turn.
"What about Steve?" she held her breath as soon as the last syllable had left her mouth.
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