85 As if Detox Wasn’t Punishment Enough CJ Echols Day Six During our second therapy session, Toby asked an easy question, “If your arrest had never happened, where would you be now?” “Dead.” No hesitation, a vacuum-sealed bag of certainty. “In that case, write your own obituary or eulogy, whichever appeals more. How would you have died? Was anyone with you? Address these, and I’ll be back in 昀椀ve minutes to see where you’re at.” I knew I would have been alone. Adam would have been the perpetrator, but that’s unimportant. Okay. Name, birthplace, age, fun fact. Toby returned, taking a seat on the stump opposite mine. “Ready?” With an apprehensive nod, he signaled me to go ahead. “Christina, born on the twenty-second of August in Dallas, Texas, was found beaten to death in her blue Honda Civic by Grapevine Lake on the evening of January seventh, two thousand twelve. Friends say her favorite song was ‘Disenchanted’ by My Chemical Romance. She was twenty years old.” We sat under kukui trees overlooking the Paci昀椀c, listening to birds singing, and basking in the dappled sunlight. The assignment exacerbated an indiscernible lust. The therapist spoke softly, “How do you feel after saying that aloud?” “Empty. Numb. Like I died way before this shit. None of it felt true, even though it could have been my reality.” Toby sighed, exasperation embroidering his next words. “How about a more hands-on assignment? Tell the others about your family dynamics by posing them