Warning: Dark themes, boy love/shonen ai, maybe yaoi
Author's note: English isn't our native language, please reccomend us if you find some mistakes. Thank you. (°w°)/
Chapter 1 - Sick
"I am home!", a little boy around 7 years loudly shouted to the empty house.
"It's weird ", he thought, "mom and dad are usually here at this hour. Maybe they aren't done with work, yet? "
A boy deferred his schoolbag to the ground before he ran to basement. After he opened the door his face contorted with disgust. Oh God, how he hated smell of heroin…
"Mom? Dad? Are ya in here? ", he asked with coughing and turned the lights on. All he could see was only plastic sachets with smack and some tools for manufactory. He slowly came down stairs and gazed around. Then he saw his parents unmoving, lying on the floor. Little boy kneeled down not far from freaking out.
"Mom? Are ya ok? ", he wildly shook with body of his mother. Female didn't respond. "D-dad? Wake up! Please wake up! ", he desperately shook with male corpse. "Someone help! Please help me! Please! ", he cried out, while tears flowed down on his cheeks.
15 years later…
I quickly look at watch. It's almost 19:00, after this therapy I will be finally able to go straight home. I never wanted to become a doctor healing mind. My dream always was being a detective that will support justice. Nevertheless, my parents rejected this idea, because for them it is regrettable employment which fits only "weirdos". My actual profession is just a notch better in their view. Being psychiatrist working in local prison is nothing stirring, but it isn't the worst job. I guess... I have appropriate payment and satisfactory working hours, so there is nothing serious what I could complain. My girlfriend Linda is also contented with this stereotype. A lot of people in my surroundings are surprised by the fact I have partner. I can't blame them because I can't believe it either. Everybody is always describing me like cynical, emotionless robot. That's what I am. And I don't really care. I don't want to change myself. Why would I?
I go to the office where is supposed to be waiting a new patient of mine. Mr. Yagami, senior consultant, told me that this one is quite problematic but he is sure I can handle this. I mean we are in prison aren't we? Weren't my previous patients unpleasant as well? Anyway I nod to the customs officer in greeting and open the heavy door. There he is. Long, blond, messy hair, reaching to the shoulders, icily blue eyes and scar dividing his attractive face. Just for you to know, I am not a type of person that easily falls for pretty face. Actually, I am a demisexual which means I can feel love toward someone only if we know each other for a while. Thinking about that I never felt such strong feeling. I don't love my parents and even Linda. I am just hollow. This is little sad. Linda is kind girl. She deserves someone who would love her and take care of her. Not like me. I usually just come home, eat a dinner and play with my toys. I nearly roll my eyes. Talking about Peter Pan Syndrome yeah…I sit down on a chair, which replies with plaintive howling.
Trying my best to freeze fake smile on lips I start a conversation: "It's pleasure to meet you, I am doctor N and I will your therapist. Let's get along as much as it's possible."
I hold a sudden urge of vomiting. This introduction was even worse than when I introduced myself last time. It just sounds so unnatural. I can be purely thankful of rule that allows employees using mononyms. It would be a catastrophe if prisoners knew my real name. Blonde shows up mischievous chuckle.
"Well nice to meet you too, doctor", he practically spits out the last word, "It would be a miracle if you left this place in normal way of yours. I am Mihael Keehl but you already know that don't you? Also, there's no need to smile in this dump. Keep it to yourself."
Insolence? That is so original. I am going to pretend, that I didn't heart similar drivels an hour ago. Seriously is this "criminal rebelliousness" so fun? They would prefer stay in jail instead of work in harness and get out?
I let out a small sigh of frustration after opening his file.
Name: Mihael Keehl
Gender: Male
Date of birth: 1989/12/13
Family members: Unknown
Height: 171 cm
Weight: 52 kg
Mental illness: Thought disorders and cognitive impairment
Why isn't there anything about his past?
"Director told me that you were causing some troubles lately. What was that all about? Sending doctors to hospital?" I start twisting lock of hair.
"You're mixing up the terms. That place is calling morgue." Mr. Keehl "corrects" me in mocking tone.
"Are you enjoying seeing others in pain?" I ignore his verbal cue.
There's silence before Keehl's answer: "No, really not…Actually I kinda feel sorry for them…"
At least, he should not be sadistic should he? I reach out for a pen on the opposite end of table. When hand gets near to a patient, he starts hiss.
"Don't touch me", he warns me with clenched teeth.
I pull up arm back to the body. Is he afraid of physical contact? Good job, idiot.
I apologize: "I am sorry I didn't want to excite you. I just wanted to take my pen. "
"Don't play fool I've known it from beginning, what you're trying to do…You're trying to kill me!", man opposite me cries out.
Image of absolute stranger killing him…Mental illness…And here we go.
"I have no intentions of hurting you, Mr. Keehl. I am your doctor and I am striving to help your health.", I use calm voice in try to persuade him.
"Open the window."
"Why?"
"I won't give you that delight bastard! I rather jump out", he yells as loudly as he could.
This doesn't work I have to try else method. He needs to calm down.
"I will not allow something like that. Your life is very important. You cannot be harmed", I shift myself farther to give him more distance. Blonde's eyes widen.
"You're lying! If you don't want to kill me, why did you put straitjacket on me in first place?! You can't wait to torture me can you? You sick piece of shit!", furious patient tries to get out from jacket violently.
If he will continue in this he will only hurt himself. Oh dear, my head hurts... I'm not in mode for arguing. I am really tired because I haven't slept much yesterday. Okay, think Nathaniel. It isn't very different from your previous cases. He seems stubborn and aggressive. If you want him to cooperate you must win his trust first. After that you can go home and get some sleep.
"Please listen to me Mister Keehl.", I start gently "I do not want to be your enemy. What can I do to make you trust me?"
In this point hopeful glint appears in young man's eyes. Maybe this wasn't the best move…
"Then uncover straitjacket from me.", he orders.
Yes, it wasn't.
"I think it is not possible considering to fact you would clearly injure me or yourself.", I refuse.
He discontentedly glowers and objects himself: "I won't. All I want to do is look out of the window."
"How can you prove that?"
"How can you prove you don't want to kill me?"
"If I wanted to kill you, I would attack you from beginning of therapy, don't you think?"
"But torturing victim is more fun, don't you think?"
"I am serious-"
"I am also serious."
"Are you trying to provoke me?", I ask phlegmatically.
"Yeah... Is it working?", he rolls his eyes.
Actually not but I would like to end this.
"Can we get to the main point?"
"I would like to. If you want me to collaborate, you must take straitjacket off. Just think about it. How do you think I feel? I am tied, vulnerable and helpless. Are you even realizing how considerable advantage you have?", he clear up his purpose.
Thinking about it… He is right but taking straitjacket off is unduly hazardous. What should I do?
Mihael notices my indecision and keeps on pouring oil into the fire.
"Even if I tried to attack you the guards would hear it."
After a moment of thought, I stand up slowly come to other end of table. I swear this is act of pure weariness. I would not do something senseless like that if I had clear mind.
"I will not harm you. Don't worry.", I reassure him while untying jacket that was basically protecting me all the time.
When untying is done, blonde tall man slowly stands up and makes his way to the window. He grabs bars while shaking a little.
I address him worried: "Excuse me are you all right?"
"Well…I think that I can trust you.", he admits agitatedly, "When I was turned back you had excellent chance to kill me. But you didn't…"
Thanks you "whoever-who-is-up-here-called-God-even-if-it-is-illogical", (I am sorry for my strong atheism.) he finally calms do. My mimic muscles unfreeze and body relax.
"Can I ask you some questions now?"
He nods hugging himself. However, he's still checking every angle in room. As though someone invisible is hiding here and waiting for good opportunity to shoot him.
In the first instance, I may ask him about his past. There was nothing about it in his files. Why? Psychiatrists usually try to find out whether the person for which they have responsibility has experienced any trauma from his childhood.
"How about your childhood? Did you have any problems with your parents or someone else?" I twirl my hair again. It is making me feel comfortably and helps think. I am doing that since babyhood. My mother always went insane, when I have done that in front of her. Actually, she does anytime she sees me twirling lock of my hair. I have no idea what she find so annoying about that.
"Have you ever felt as if someone was watching you? Have you ever killed someone? Could I touch you?", he stared at me lifelessly. As if he could see right intro my soul. I shake myself throwing that idea out of my mind.
"I just asked you a question.", I mention the fact "Why are you asking me about something else?"
He answers immediately: "Because your questions obviously weren't important."
Mr. Keehl comes to my direction getting closer. He looks at me with rapacious look in his eyes.
"Now…Should I touch you? Or at least your hair? They're looking so soft and fluffy…", blonde patient stretches his hand at my forehead. I instinctively pull myself away. Even if he acts innocently, he still represents danger for my position. Just image how would you feel if you would be stuck in pent room with mental ill. Male that is probably about twenty centimeters taller than you.
"Your past is not important? Why not?", I try to redirect his attention to case.
"Important thing is that I survived in this freaking corrupt world.", he frowns "They murdered my parents and now they're after me. They want me dead. Everybody…But I won't let them. If they approach to me, I'll kill them. As they assassinated my parents…"
"Who did this?", I ask as believed him. Most likely something happened to Mr. Keehl's parents and he could not handle that, which leads to tragic story that exists only in his head.
22-year man looks around like if someone was monitoring us.
He comes closer to me whispering to my ear: "Doctors. No, they're not doctors. They're individuals faking doctors. More like an organization. They built this "hospital" to get rid of unsolicited witnesses. Every day they are poisoning me with these shits, which they call "medicine"."
Wow, that's impressive. This should be good subject for some action movie.
"There is no reason to worry. I will keep you safe. I will not let anyone hurt you, I promise.", I pledge. It is truth. I am responsible for my patients. My job is curing and protecting them. This is also justice. Well, kind of…
His eyes widen in intimation of fear.
"B-but-"
I hold his hand.
"It is all right. Everything is all right.", I caress his hand gently. Only 2 minutes are remaining. It makes no sense to convince him…now.
Blonde puts my hand on his cheek and rubs it.
"I hardly can remember when someone touched me that graciously…", he almost whispers.
I sadly smile before we both hear knocking on an iron door.
"Sir, time is up. Can we come in and take prisoner to his cell?", customs officer calls out.
I gasp when Mihael imprisons me in his arms and bury my face protectively intro his chest. He growls at door madly. This type of situation is not familiar with me. Patients were always glad when therapy ended. What should I say? This is new for me.
I back out from constriction.
"Shhh. We will see each other next week. I give you word on that.", I tranquilize him. After he calms down a bit I tell guards to take him, then I give him look and say goodbye.
On my way home I reflect about this whole day. However, one thought cannot leave my mind. Mihael Keehl…Dead parents, murderers faking doctors and thought disorders and cognitive impairment…Everything seems to fit. Then why I feel as if I am missing the most significant piece of puzzle?
