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Except there is one thing—I know how well Nichole lies.
“Things kept getting weirder and weirder. She wasn’t herself. She was paranoid. Wouldn’t let me near her. She’d say things like, ‘Get away from me,’ and I never knew if she was talking to me or somebody else. Every noise made her jump. I kept asking her what was wrong, begging her to tell me, but she’d scream at me to get away from her, not to touch her.”
“She’s a shell of a person when she isn’t psychotic. She never smiles or frowns. Doesn’t give any sign of wanting anything. It’s like she disappears in and out of herself all day long.”
“If you come near my sister again, I’ll kill you, you sonofabitch, do you hear me?” Her eyes grow to hostile slits. “And this time, I’ll make sure you die.”
“Nichole is suffering from Capgras syndrome.” He says it like it’s two words—cap grass. “It’s a delusional misidentification syndrome where the patient believes a loved one or familiar person has been taken over by an imposter.
They always say the truth will set you free, but maybe it has to destroy you first.
