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31.

“… And, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Dean Corwell suggested quickly. But I already saw Brian looking back at him with a rather determined expression. I quickly shot Howie a look and immediately saw how he was trying to hide his excitement. I rolled my eyes. In the last few days, the feeling that Howie’s obsession had taken on dangerous proportions grew more and more.

This whole thing had been his idea, initially. I had laughed at him when he suggested it. No way Corwell would approve. He was a psychotherapist, not a mentalist, he’d said. But Howie had only needed about two hours to convince the therapist that it was actually a brilliant idea.

Damn, that guy talks smooth.

Somehow, I knew Brian would agree. After Harold’s brief, but firm outburst, he’d demanded answers from anyone and everyone. Of course, Howie was happy with the cooperation, but I wasn’t so sure. Knowing too much could prove dangerous.

“Howie?” I questioned, waiting for him to turn around before I continued, “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

Howie shrugged and followed me out of the room. I waited until he closed the door behind him before I exploded.
“What the hell are you thinking?” I said in a strained voice, throwing my arms up in the air.

Howard took a careful step back, but did not seem impressed, “I thought we’ve already discussed this,” he said.

“That was before I knew he was going to say yes!” I rushed.

“I already told you, this might be the only way that we can finally figure out what happened, you know, for once and for all. Doesn’t he deserve to know the truth? Don’t we all?”

“This is not about you, Howie!”

“The hell it’s not!” he suddenly yelled, and this time, I was the one that took a step back, “I’ve spent three months, three months, trying to get answers! I still don’t know a whole lot more than I did in the beginning.”

“It’s too dangerous. You know what happened last time!” I countered, suddenly wondering why I needed to be the responsible adult all of a sudden.

“Last time was a mistake. This is different, Nick. Don’t you just want to close this chapter? Don’t you want to know what happened? I know I do.”

I shook my head, “I just want him to be okay.”

“He’s not,” Howie hissed, “He remembers more than we know. More than he knows too. This could be the perfect way for him to come to terms with what happened.”

I clenched my jaw and looked away. I had a really bad feeling about this, though I couldn’t really determine why. Howie’s obsession made his motives quite questionable. It was almost like he lived for nothing more than knowing what happened that night in November. Maybe we should have stopped him when we could, but then… we would have never found out about Peter.

“I don’t know…” I mumbled.

“How do you think it was like for me?” he asked, inching just a bit closer, “I was the one who had to find him. Do you know what that’s like? What do you think it’s like finding lifeless friends on a bloodied carpet? I thought he was dead! Is it really that strange if I want to know why I had to go through that?”

It was silent for a good couple of moments and I could only hope that Brian and Dean Corwell couldn’t hear us through the closed door. And although this was a less sugarcoated version of the story, Howie had told Brian his point of view of that evening. Or rather, he’d let Brian read the notebook he’d kept with him for so many weeks. It might not have been objective at all points, but it did give him the main idea of what those weeks had been like.

He’d given the notebook back without a word and with a pale face. But, despite what I had expected, not much drama had happened after that.

Not much drama was happening now either. When we re-entered the room, Brian and Dean were still where we’d left them. They were engaging in a rather random, but heated discussion about the NBA. And although Brian often didn’t know what day it was, he did still know his stuff about basketball. I saw his face light up as he defended his plea about the latest match. Dean didn’t seem too impressed. I had to admit, I liked his style. He was much different than any other therapist I had encountered.

“So, you guys done peeing?” he questioned with a smile.

Howie nodded solemnly, “Yes sir.”

“Good,” Dean said, standing up slowly, “listen, I’ve discussed everything with Brian here, and he seems to be aware of the possible consequences. This might very well be a step in the right direction, but it can also become a disastrous failure. He knows that.”

I let my gaze wander to Brian’s for a second and saw him raise his eyebrows daringly. I wanted to tell him how irresponsible and reckless his choice was, but I didn’t.

Instead, I nodded.

“Alright,” Dean concluded, “We’ll start next week.”