Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

I knew what Hailey was up to. She was out to crucify Colin with the same tactics and public scrutiny.

Taking a deep breath, I jumped to my feet, determined to confront Colin about this animal cruelty business. © 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

But when I turned around, there he was, sitting on the stairs. His gaze was intense, his eyes rimmed with red as if he’d suffered a great injustice.

“Phoebe…” His voice was barely a whisper as he called my name. “Don’t settle.”

“This won’t completely ruin Dexter. He’ll fight back. At worst, he’s looking at a two–week stint in the prison,” I said. Even though I knew it could spell trouble for the Fitzgerald Group, to Dexter personally, it wasn’t much of a punishment.

“A fortnight in the clink…” Colin seemed to barely contain his glee.

As far as he was concerned, Dexter’s misfortune was a reason to celebrate.

“You think the Fitzgeralds are just going to roll over?” I sighed, sitting beside Colin. “Those Fitzgeralds, they don’t take things lying down. Mrs. Fitzgerald won’t let this go. A short detention is nothing; the real issue is the hit to the Fitzgerald Group.”

Colin hugged his knees, resting his forehead on them, looking every bit like a big, forlorn, abandoned pup.

My gaze lingered on Colin, complex emotions swirling within me as I spoke again. “Colin… When you have an episode, do you… hurt animals?”

He froze for a second before looking at me, silent.

In his eyes, I saw a multitude of emotions – was it hurt? Despair? Sorrow?

Was blaming me for my lack of faith in him?

“What about this photo, then?” I showed him the picture Hailey had sent, giving him a glimpse.

Colin stared at the picture, then looked up at me. “If I say it wasn’t me, would you believe me, Phoebe?”

However, with the evidence staring me in the face, it was hard to immediately side with Colin, not when I knew his episodes could make him lose control.

“Colin… the Fitzgeralds will use this to smear you, to attack you. They’ll latch onto your mental health issues and blow them out of proportion…” I lowered my head, not wanting to imagine the cruelty of the impending public backlash.

Thankfully, he wasn’t one to be glued to his phone, or else it would be a different kind of hell.

Soon after, Hailey sent another article – a post that had been circulating since last year, titled

09:43

“Attention to Stray Animals.” It detailed how abuse from the homeless was sadly common. with a picture of Colin holding a bloodied kitten,

The article was scathing; its author clearly had a journalist’s flair for the dramatic, reducing Colin and vagabonds like him to nothing.

Back then, the post had gone viral, amassing millions of views.

I couldn’t begin to imagine what Colin had gone through during that time. The power of public opinion was lethal.

“Phoebe… you don’t believe me, do you?” Colin’s voice was hoarse, suddenly tinged with a hint of desperation.

He grabbed my wrist as if he was desperately seeking trust in my eyes. But it wasn’t there, so he was disappointed.

His head dropped, his eyes slowly reddening as he stood and walked away.

He was crying…

“Colin…” Instinctively, I reached out to grab his hand. I just wanted to hear his side of the story.

But he seemed particularly sensitive about the cat thing.

“Colin?” He didn’t respond and ran back to his room.

It was the first time he’d had such a strong emotional reaction in front of me.

I massaged my temples, feeling the weight of uncertainty. It was normal to be disturbed by the photo and the article, and without his explanation, it was natural for me to have doubts.

I was just afraid… afraid that the Fitzgeralds‘ public narrative would harm him anew.

I searched online for last year’s news about the homeless youth and cat abuse. As expected, there were numerous photos and videos.

In one video, the filmmaker encountered Colin in an alley. They threw stones at him, hit him

with sticks.

Colin was curled up in a corner, clutching something tightly, his forehead and body grubby and bloodied.

I knew Colin had suffered while living rough, but I hadn’t realized how much.

He could have fought back.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” I murmured, my voice rough.

As I furiously sifted through the online chatter, I found a different narrative, a video with hardly any views trying to defend Colin.

In this video, the person followed Colin, claiming he wasn’t abusing the cat but was actually

trying to help a stray. Because he was awkward with people, the media, with their own