A/N: New Updates!
Extremely dark, extremely nauseating and wonderful. Also, if you are familiar with pop culture when it comes to thriller movies, you might see where I got the inspiration for this long one-shot. You will understand once you get to the end of the story.
I'd recommend songs to play in the loop as you read this:
I Put a Spell on you by Annie Lennox,
Swallow by Emily Autumn
Salted Wound by Sia
BTW, this is the edited portion. If you want to read full version, head over to Archives of Our Own, register/log in and look for the complete version.
I hope you forgive my grammar and spelling mistakes. Enjoy reading.
The Price of Pride
(Camus Cryszard's POV)
"It is a wise child that knows his own father."
The sounds of wailing sirens filled the night. Red and blue lights flashed blindingly, projecting their harsh, glaring lights against the somber, gray granite-finished walls of the affluent two-storey house.
The police tried to restrain the curious onlookers and passersby who have gathered on the fringes of the immaculately tendered lawn to no avail. Everyone is interested in what's going on, especially since it involved the Nanami's house. They have the prettiest lawn and garden in the street.
However, crime scene investigators trampled about in protective gear and yellow boots, carrying their own set of forks and spades, ready to uproot all the decorative plants installed.
They have finally solved the location of the missing bodies. The locals shuddered at the thought of their quiet neighborhood slowly being turned into a human fertilizer factory. No wonder the plants looked so healthy and robust, onlookers shook their heads in disgust. It was the bodies of the female victims that give nourishment to the flowering plants they admire so much. And neighbors recall complimenting so much about the rose vines, wisterias, anemones and azaleas blooming so gorgeously almost all year round.
Amidst the commotion, a young woman stood; a heavy, warm blanket covering her thin shoulders. Members of the law enforcement would sneak glances at her, noting the vacant stare etched on her face.
It was in this state that I found her and laid eyes on her for the first time.
"Hello, Haruka Nanami." I stood next to her, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. The normal reaction for people at the center of this chaos would be shock and trauma. Especially with a victim of attempted murder.
Giving her time to adjust to my presence, I looked down and found, to my astonishment that she was gazing up at me.
Her eyes are like the color of molten gold; Hair, the color of fire; skin like a porcelain doll or an alabaster statue. Now I can see the resemblance to the victims.
Jushiro Nanami picked his victims who closely resembled his only daughter.
"My name is Dr. Camus Cryszard." I said softly. "I'm a renowned forensic psychiatrist. You can call me however you like."
She blinked, her lower lip trembled. "My father killed my mother and my grandmother, And he tried to….. do it to me.." was all she could say.
It was then that I noticed she was bleeding from a small nick at her neck. I watched in horror as her eyelids fluttered shut and I instinctively reached out to catch her in time.
oOoOoOo
"Each man delights in the work that suits him best."
They dubbed her father, The Doll Collector, for he was very particular with the victims he selected: all young women he killed were between the ages of fifteen to twenty; they all sported similar tones of red hair and white skin. However, most of the victims' eyes vary in color: from blues to greens to browns and black. No one had the same eye-color as hers.
They were all lured into his car, knocked unconscious with a whiff of chloroform in the nose and mouth; bound, gagged and tossed into the backseat of his heavily tinted car. Her father's boyish good looks helped in securing his victims; anyone will be charmed by Jushiro's good manners, eloquent speech, and grace.
There were some hints that he kept them alive for uncertain number of days. No one knows how or why; or whether it is a preparation process before he kills them. But the level of brutality increases with each victim. The Doll Collector would be subjecting the victims to torture and mutilation. Eventually, they die either by succumbing through their injuries or through shock via blood loss. I learned through a police colleague that the coroner doing the autopsies on the bodies had his work cut out for him. One assistant was so horrified by the state of bodies that he asked to be replaced. A few neophyte police officers assisting in excavating the mass grave couldn't even stomach what they saw: the bodies were all lined up perfectly, hands folded on their chest. Each of their eyes was gouged out while their hairs were neatly combed and tied. They looked like hollowed eyed dolls looking up from the deep pit of dank, smelly earth.
oOoOoOo
"Of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is bred that is weaker than man."
The first time I narrated this to Haruka Nanami, she rushed towards the nearest powder room to heave out the pitiful contents of her stomach.
"How could he do that?" She asked me as she sat in front of the toilet bowl, clutching a towel to wipe her mouth. Her whole frame is trembling, slender fingers curling to show her revulsion.
I handed her a bottle of water to drink and cleanse her mouth. "Maybe we should stop this session and continue next week?" I told her, a little disappointed at the weak human in front of me.
The job given job was clear: talk to the daughter, find out if she is an accomplice. And most importantly, we need to gather clues and any vital information on the bodies of the remaining women on her father's list. The crime scene investigators had practically dug out the whole house and only found 12 bodies out of the missing 22.
If it weren't for a witness on his last victim, her father would have continued his killing spree. Confined in an isolated ward, mumbling incoherent words to himself and refusing to speak when questioned, they needed to piece together the gruesome story without his full cooperation.
It is a challenge to solve this case. But I am not great in my field for nothing. I've been evaluating criminal minds for the last ten years of my career. My expertise is renowned within the justice system. I even furthered my credentials by earning two Masters and a Ph.D. And for the last couple of years, I've held an on and off post at a local college, teaching and sharing my knowledge and contribution in the police force.
But I was only on board for consultation purposes. When the tip about Jushiro's impending arrest came about, they weren't really sure whether the accusations against him were true. Jushiro Nanami was held in such high esteem in the local community that the fact that he was actually the perpetrator they were tracking for months feels absurd.
During the conceptualization of the raid plans, I was eager to get my hands on Jushiro Nanami. He is an unusual patient that I needed to evaluate and include in my growing list of people I have come across with in my career. Tackling the monster inside his head would be the proverbial crowning glory of my achievements. The challenge would cement my reputation.
Instead, I got his daughter. And I felt a little deflated at this. The last two sessions we had were a disaster.
"Let me talk to Jushiro Nanami!", I argued to the chief of police and the public prosecutors. "I believe my expertise is better suited for that man rather than his daughter. I can help crack this case!"
But his lawyers insisted they have the right to choose which person they deemed worthy to evaluate their client's sanity and to my anger, I was not the one they wanted. I was miffed by the court's decision to agree with them.
Jushiro Nanami's case went to a rival colleague of mine, and I cannot help but be annoyed at the look of glee on his face when it was finally announced. At least the investigators are equally unhappy with the outcome and decided to have put forth a request to let me continue to evaluate Haruka Nanami. It was granted.
And I reluctantly accepted.
oOoOoOo
"Which of the immortals chained me here?"
The families' victims are demanding for swift justice, but building a case takes months, even years to gather evidence, cross-reference data obtained, document witnesses and establish timelines. Haruka's father is a lawyer, and he knew very well what he was doing. Although the star witness is positive on identifying him, Jushiro's lawyers made a legitimate comment about the witness' testimony. The witness was a little intoxicated at that time and was a one-time convicted child molester. There's a high chance he could be lying, or aiding someone who is framing Jushiro.
While Jushiro languished in an isolated cell, his lawyers, having been paid a fortune from his trust fund, maintained their client is the victim and was being framed. A lawyer has many enemies, and they strongly believed that there are quite a few people who very much wanted to take revenge on Jushiro. With these confusing claims, it would be very difficult to pin a proper punishment for him.
Digging up the bodies on one's backyard is not enough incriminating evidence to convict Jushiro Nanami for the girls' deaths. They needed to find the place where the crimes were committed. The search done on their house did not yield any clues. The attic and basement are squeaky clean. There are no hidden rooms, trap doors of any kind or even outhouses to serve as his hiding place. Even the car he supposedly used were taken apart piece by piece, and yet it yielded nothing, not even a strand of hair.
It perplexed the investigators. The media drew conclusions in the air. Both parties can only speculate that the suspect probably has a second house hidden somewhere.
Days into the investigation, the pressure is on to produce all the evidence. And since Jushiro kept his mouth shut, their only hope lies on his next of kin: Haruka Nanami.
And I was getting nowhere with her. I'm beginning to feel frustrated that our sessions are going down the drain. I've changed my tactics on how best to approach her and persuade her open up. I should be feeling some sympathy to her plight, but frankly, I felt the need to produce results. I seemed to be driving her up to the wall with my probing questions that I failed to notice that she's loosing weight and barely sleeping.
The media circus didn't help. Day and night they camp outside the temporary home she was in. Until the day came that she refused to get out from her room and locked herself in. A helper had to call for help to break down the door, afraid that she might have done something to hurt herself.
They found her huddled in the corner, staring into nothing. I was immediately notified of what happened and rushed to the scene. Upon arrival, I was shocked to find that there were even victim's family members rallying around the vicinity of the home, putting up placards with her and Jushiro's photos placed side by side. They declared her a criminal, a whore, a worshipper of the devil, someone damned by hell.
I felt revulsion rise up my throat.
Rushing to her room, I saw the same young woman that first night looking up at me with those gold eyes of hers, huge and glazed. She was clutching a book that she was allowed to take from her home, Homer's The Odyssey. An unusual choice of reading for a young lady her age.
When I stared back at her face, I felt something thaw within me.
My cold heart beated faster.
Without even thinking, I reached down and scooped her up in my arms. Hair falling down and covering my face, she buried her nose at the crook of my shoulders and whispered.
"Camus, take me away."
oOoOoOo
"Ah, how shameless – the way these mortals blame the gods. From us alone they say come all their miseries yes but they themselves with their own reckless ways compound their pains beyond their proper share."
Two months has passed since the police and crime scene investigators first descended on Haruka Nanami's home. Two months since time stood still for her and thus, never moved. I made no progress with her as my patient. It hurts my pride that she was such a difficult patient. She trumped all my methods of studying her psychological well-being and my treatments. But the mere mentioned of my name and those three words wrought something deep inside of me.
Camus, take me away.
I knew she was building up a wall to keep me and the others out. And I was angry at this to the point that I kept pushing her until she broke.
Social services decided to cancel our sessions, but at the last minute, I put my foot down and with gritted teeth informed them that I volunteer myself to be her temporary guardian for the time being. I knew I can still reach her. I knew I can make her break those walls and talk to me.
In the end, they agreed. That very day after I took her from her room in my arms, Haruka Nanami will be living with me under my guidance and care.
I won't give up. Not when my career and reputation is at stake.
I let social services visit my home; one, to partly to satisfy themselves that she would be in good hands, and two, bring Haruka's modest possessions she was allowed to take from her home. I knew for a fact that they were a little nervous about letting her out of their sight and into the care of a single, bachelor man living alone in a massive gray and white Georgian house.
I was a little insulted that they think I would be capable of harming her. But they kept their mouth shut with the final arrangements. My credentials are enough to keep them at bay. For the moment. Unless I make Haruka Nanami talk, this arrangement would only be temporary. The prosecutors are eager to pick her brain for the impending trial of the decade.
While I let them help Haruka settle. I went out on a little errand of my own. A visit to the Doll Collector is in order.
oOoOoOo
"[I]t is the wine that leads me on,
the wild wine
that sets the wisest man to sing
at the top of his lungs,
laugh like a fool – it drives the
man to dancing... it even
tempts him to blurt out stories
better never told."
I never felt nervous in front of other people. I can read through their mannerisms and way of speech after spending a few minutes with them- enough to make it known to the other person that I am the one in charge and not them. But I found myself feeling a little off when I stood at the doorway of the sitting room, several feet from where Jushiro Nanami sat reading a thick tome.
Jushiro's lawyers have successfully secured permission for a thorough mental examination a couple of weeks ago. He has been residing in a private mental institution ever since.
I sat down at the empty chair opposite Jushiro. Only a table separates us. For someone who is supposed to be suffering from mental stress, Jushiro looked healthy and calm. Wearing comfortable slacks and a shirt, he looked like someone who had just come home from work and opted to relax by reading the rest of the afternoon away.
Before I opened my mouth to introduce myself, Jushiro Nanami beat me to it by asking how his daughter is doing.
"Is she well?" he asked, without batting an eyelid, the sound of pages being turned. Jushiro continued to peruse the book he is holding, seemingly able to concentrate on the words while half of his mind is focused on me.
"Well enough." I frowned slightly, unsure whether to share more information. Perhaps I can skirt my way around without giving too much?
"Does she still have nightmares and talks in her sleep?"
This is news to me. The social services staff of her temporary home never mentioned this. But I decided that I can get back to this information later. From the way Jushiro engaged himself with this conversation, he took command immediately. I recognized it as his way of putting things under his control.
"Haruka is gradually recovering from her stress-induced sleeping disorder," I stated firmly.
Jushiro snapped his book shut and focused his attention on me. I am struck by how good-looking Haruka's father is, despite his age. He could give veteran movie actors a run for their money with his classical good looks. No wonder! How can any woman resist his requests? An image of Jushiro Nanami giving pleasant talks to his victims flashed within my mind. The blood in my veins turned to ice.
"We both know very well, my good doctor, that Haruka is far from recovering." Jushiro slowly gave a smile.
My eyes narrowed slightly. I refused to take his bait. I am her evaluating psychiatrist after all.
Instead, I decided to change the topic. It's time to let this man know that I am the one in charge.
"I want to know why it is necessary that you choose your victims to look like her?" I asked directly. I figured that Jushiro is a smart man and would appreciate blunt honesty rather than skirting around an issue.
Jushiro gave an enigmatic smile, leaned back on his chair before he took the glass of water resting near him and the plastic cup of his medicine next to it. He made a show of slowly swallowing the pills before downing half of the water. I watched, fascinated and appalled at this man's steely composure. He is not someone who can be easily swayed by the threat of a death penalty. Here is a cold-blooded killer who knew what he was getting into when he lured those women to their deaths. A true psychopath. I again felt the regret that I wasn't able to evaluate him myself.
Outside of the window, the oak trees rustled gently against the wind, bringing in the scent of freesias and lilies. It somehow reminded me of Haruka's smell when I took her in my arms and carried her out of the safe house where she stayed
But instead of answering my question, he asked a question.
"My Haruka, when will I be permitted to see her? Why did you not bring her?"
I leaned back on my own chair, smiling a little. Of course, Jushiro won't be giving his answers so easily and freely.
"For the moment, the judge who will be handling your case has deemed it is in the best interests of all parties involved not to let you see her until further notice."
Jushiro tilted his head. "A shame. I find myself thinking about her regularly. Worrying whether she would be all right. I don't want my daughter to be traumatized by what is happening right now."
Spoken like a true deranged man.
Jushiro Nanami is not innocent of the crime. Every fiber of my being screams that the man before me is responsible for all the deaths. With such careful planning and execution, Jushiro made sure that no substantial evidence can uphold the case against him.
Even if our exchange is brief I felt like I have seen and heard enough.
I stood up from my chair, the legs gently scraping the tiled floor and readied myself to say goodbye when I saw the book he was holding.
Homer's The Odyssey. How odd. It was the same book that I saw Haruka clutching when I rescued her from her temporary home.
Jushiro saw me eye the book.
"Interesting book, Dr. Camus Cryszard. Very interesting. You are a force to reckon with in your field, I suspect." Jushiro shifted on his seat and smiled affably.
My eyes narrowed ever so slightly again. I do not like his condescending tone of his.
"How do you find my daughter, Haruka?"
The question caught me off-guard.
I took my time to study the man seated in front of me again, before answering. I choose my words carefully.
"She's precocious. Good manners. Mature for her age."
Jushiro nodded, giving him a careless wave. "Etcetera, etcetera. Come now, Dr. Cryszard. These are generic answers a doctor diagnosing a patient gives. I asked you a question, how do you find my daughter?" he asked in a pointed manner.
I felt a little uncomfortable with the question. It felt a little too personal for my liking. My answer hung in the air, and I felt sure that Jushiro has somehow weaved a spider's web around me without my knowing until I was caught in it.
"Beautiful, isn't she? Such a gentle child. We were over the moon when she was born. I remember Haruna and I often would spend hours just staring at her while she sleeps. Touching her petal-soft skin, smoothing her silky hair, her eyes lighting up in wonder…." Jushiro's eyes took on a dreamy, faraway look. For a moment, lulled by the unnatural soothing turn of his voice, our surroundings disappeared and was replaced by a white room painted with a huge tree laden with red, shiny apples on one wall. I can almost see Haruka's parents, excitedly hovering over her vintage crib, watching her sleep.
The vision faded away and I blinked. I stared back into the amber-colored eyes of Jushiro Nanami. They looked intense and vivid with memories.
"I love my daughter, Dr. Cryszard. So much. I was ever so careful about her because she is precious to me. If you managed to crack her walls and entered her world, come back and talk to me." Jushiro said softly.
I did not like how the man transformed in front of me, talking about his only child, his daughter like she is some exotic animal he acquired and paid a fortune for. Or a painting that he displays in the center of a room. I slow backed away from the room, feeling a little nauseated.
oOoOoOo
"she makes a name for herself..."
When I arrived home that afternoon, a little too shaken for my own good, I headed straight to my study, grabbing the bottle of brandy from the bar and a crystal glass, poured myself a healthy measure before I downed half of its contents.
I let the fire raced down my throat, warming my cold state. I stood staring at the lit up the fireplace. With the winter season coming soon, late afternoons are becoming chilly, prompting my housekeeper to keeping my rooms always warm and ready for my use.
In my decade long career, I have never come across someone like Jushiro Nanami. Was I supposed to be glad that I wasn't handling his case then? What was it about his unhealthy obsession with his daughter that made me unsettled? Why can't I seem to get through his daughter like the rest of my patients?
Haruka seemed to pose an even greater challenge than anticipated. My enigma code, set to test my patience and wit.
It took me a few minutes to collect my thoughts. And when I decided to check on Haruka, wondering where she is, I realized someone was in the room with me.
Haruka Nanami was lying on the leather lounge chair that my patients use during the rare occasions I let them cross the threshold of my home.
She was breathing slowly and evenly, a look of exhaustion on her face. There were deep purple shadows beneath her eyes, barely covered by her thick, dark sooty lashes. The fire from the grate made her hair gleam, lighting up her pale face in contrast. She wore faded jeans and a t-shirt, looking more like a teenager than a woman about to turn eighteen in a few book lying open beside her was Homer's The Odyssey.
I debated on whether I should bring her up to her assigned room, but decided to let her rest longer. I took a warm, fuzzy blanket, unfolded it and proceeded to cover her. The book threatened to topple to the floor, so I snatched it from beneath her resting fingers.
I felt a gentle tug.
I looked down and saw her hands locking into mine.
They felt so slender and fragile that I find myself pitying her for the circumstances she was thrown in courtesy of her father.
She gave a gentle sigh. And then, her somniloquy begun.
At first, she spoke in gibberish. Mumbles, moans ,and whimpers. I caught a few audible words here and there: the name of her dog [Snowball, who died last year, according to her files], something about a flower that grew in their backyard [was it the azalea? Or the wisteria?], a line from a poem or a song [Ah, Hamlet's To be or not to be].
Fascinated by her words, I found myself squatting on the floor beside where she sleeps. All the irritation and annoyance that I initially held for her vanished in an instant.
oOoOoOo
"By hook or by crook this peril too shall be something that we remember."
In all intents and purposes, I am determined to make her case successful. But despite her acceptance of me, Haruka kept to her private world. She barely uttered a sentence during our therapy sessions. I cannot decide whether she is intentionally hiding something from me by refusing to talk or she just doesn't know anything. Our first few sessions at my home rather than the foster home she used to stay were awkward. I am not used to seeing someone emerging from the bedroom doors opposite mine; I valued my privacy deeply. I never brought home a woman before, not even the few flings and girlfriends I used to involve myself with. I was particularly sensitive with my space, so seeing Haruka in unexpected corners of my home takes some getting use to.
But I gradually worked my way in. If I was looking for a challenge, Haruka Nanami is the perfect patient to test my skills. A tough nut to crack, when she eschewed all my tried and tested working methods. And yet, I discovered that to make some progress with her I need to be creative.
So I took advantage of her sleeping state. I stopped making schedules of our sessions and decided to let her wander about the house and do whatever she pleases. She's not exactly a prisoner inside my home, and although she is allowed to go out sometimes as long as a chaperone is with her, she never asks to. Afraid that she might run into the media and the victims' families outside, she contents herself inside my home, reading, tinkering with the baby grand put up on display at my sitting room, admiring my Alphonse Mucha lithographs peppered all over the walls of my designer home.
I am perfectly happy to oblige her preferences. It meant that I have more time to focus on my treatment of her. The investigators are becoming impatient.
When I find her sleeping, I listened to all the things that she talked about. Although most of them are random words, I knew in my guts they I would be hitting on something soon. And while I stayed by her side, patiently listening and watching her sleep, I couldn't help but enjoy these short moments.
She looked like a doll that breathes; full, perfectly arched eyebrows, long lashes, a Cupid's bow mouth, fiery red hair that gleams.
"Haruka," I would breathe softly, brushing a finger in her temple. Her eyelids twitched in response. My pulse raced. I only need to close the gap between our faces and I could taste those lips. I ran a finger from her chin, down to her exposed neck, passed the middle of her chest, where I was tempted to cup her soft mounds of female breasts. Desire shot through me, making me rigid. I held my breath, wondering whether she would wake up.
Silence.
And then her somniloquy continues.
oOoOoOo
"Discourse, the sweeter banquet of the mind"
I began to look forward to our sessions. Whenever I find her sleeping, I indulged myself to touching her in places that would never see the light of day. I couldn't help myself. I was drawn to her as much as I am beginning to obsess on the knowledge she tightly withholds from me. I felt like getting a little revenge on her for making me suffer and doubt about my knowledge and skills.
It happened on the sixth occasion that I found her sleeping. Uttering the pet name of one of the victims, I sat up rigid at this unexpected breakthrough. Feeling giddy with excitement, I found myself blurting out a question.
Haruka sighed in her sleep and repeated the girl's name.
But no matter how many times I posed the question to her while she sleeps, I couldn't get a satisfactory answer. A little impatient, I woke her up accidentally and began to fire rapid successions of questions at her.
I seemed to have frightened her by my frantic expressions that she shrank back to her shell, unable to answer. And when she couldn't take it, she fled to her room.
I began to despair that I may not be able to handle her case anymore. Here I was finally making some progress. But because of my excitement and carelessness, I ended up exposing to her what I have been doing every time she sleeps.
And because of that episode. Haruka was cautious about sleeping when I was around. It felt like something was denied to me, when I was beginning to enjoy doing perverted things to her. Not only that, I have crossed the line of violating my patients in their vulnerable state, and I could find no way out. If anyone finds out I began to secretly abuse Haruka, I would be in deep trouble.
"Ah, the esteemed Dr. Cryszard." Victor Holmes plastered a fake smile in greeting after I left the police headquarters. His slick, dark brown hair and haughty expression reminded me of a lizard basking in the sun. He was holding a thick sheaf of papers inside a folder. I nodded my heading in polite greeting, unable to stand his presence. Victor Holmes is Jushiro Nanami's psychiatrist and my life-long rival. No doubt he relishes that fact whenever he rubs it on my face. If Victor manages to crack Jushiro's mental defenses, he would leave me in the dust. My reputation as the number one forensics psychiatrist will be taken from me. I clenched my fists in irritation.
Today of all days, the police chief and investigators had summoned me for a preliminary review of Jushiro Nanami's case. They have been pressing me for any news on Haruka, and I found myself making excuses on my diagnoses of her condition. Our meeting was spent tossing information and questions back and forth; we all wanted this case to start soon. And I felt the pressure of producing better results.
And seeing Victor Holmes at the front steps of the station did not contribute to my foul mood.
Victor gave a toothy grin. "How's your progress on the Nanami girl?"
"Going on splendidly," I replied back automatically, feeling the urge to quickly remove my presence from this place.
He grinned smugly. "I should tell you, Jushiro is a fascinating subject. Very tricky, knows more than the necessary jargon of this industry. He's a paragon of self-righteous philosophy. Of course, I would expect that from someone as popular and respectable as him. But he couldn't hide anything from me." He tapped the folder he was holding. "I may have some concrete ideas on where he could have done the murders of those girls." He bragged.
I forced myself a smile. "Congratulations, Victor. I'm sure that the victims' families would be glad they are one step closer to the justice they are demanding on." And with that I left him on the steps, intent on hurrying home and start brainstorming ways to enter Haruka's mind. A plan began to form in my head.
oOoOoOo
"He will tell you history and no lies."
I made it a point that we spend quality time every evening when we prepare our dinner. I have excellent and refined taste in wine and food, and I discovered that Haruka has a healthy appreciation of my preferences when I take it upon myself to personally feed her with my creations.
Haruka is a keen observer. She is very sensitive to another person's mood. And tonight she took out my favorite Sevres fine china. She correctly read my happy and positive mood.
Over dinner of lamb liver with some fava beans, crisp garden vegetables and a generous amount of Amarone, I watched Haruka enjoy her dinner. She looked particularly beautiful tonight with a simple, white lacy dinner dress adorned with her mother's black pearls. The Nanami's are rich and have a healthy appreciation on the finer things in life, which they carefully passed down to their daughter. It was only Haruka who seemed to understand the fine collections I have in my house. For I discovered another quirk of hers; she has an eye for detail and would be re-arranging my art collections to draw their full potential to the viewer. No wonder she liked exploring my house whenever she can. She would be exhausting her brains out and I would find her sleeping in the most unexpected places.
But tonight, I don't need to look for her. Step one of my experiment is commencing. And as soon as she placed her dessert spoon down and drank the last of the Moselle wine, she slumped back on her seat and slept deeply.
I shouldn't be drugging my patients. But Haruka Nanami left me with no choice. I need results, and I want to know if her dream talking continues despite the circumstances of how she attained her sleep. I figured that the secret to unlocking Haruka's mind is to induce her to a deeper sleep and I would ask the necessary questions without stressing her when she wakens.
I slowly approached her side of the table, deliberately making noises to test how unconscious she is: a tinkling of the crystal goblet, a tap on the oak wooden table, a spare fork dropped on the floor, until I am standing right next to her, peering down at her sleeping face.
"Perfect." I whispered.
I carried her carefully, draping her artfully on top of the lounge chair. She began her mumblings even before I reached for the door of my study. She recited the entire Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Coleridge. For a woman who doesn't like to talk, I marveled at her sophisticated nuances and pronunciation.
And then, another girl's name. Frances White.
Haruka began to ask where Frances brought her elegant party shoes.
I leaned back to my chair, pleased with the success of my experiment. There is nothing Haruka can hide from me now.
And as the embers in the grate died a slow death, I looked down at Haruka's hands entwined my free hand, while my other rested on top of the notebook, where all the answers to my questions were scribbled in jumbled words.
oOoOoOo
"And what he greatly thought, he nobly dared."
Jushiro Nanami threw the sheaf of papers to my face with gusto.
"Didn't I tell you to come to me, once you have cracked her walls and entered her world?" He sneered at me in disgust.
I looked up at him in anger. How dare this pompous criminal insinuate that I failed at my task? I came to him, wanting to know what to make of Haruka's riddles. Every other night, I drugged her to sleep and recorded our sessions. But during the day, no matter how many times I try to decipher her answers, I couldn't get passed the meaningless words. They key to why she is at the center of these crimes were in those sentences, I am sure of it! But why couldn't I crack it?!
Jushiro eyed me with a disappointed expression. "You are the best in your field, Dr. Camus Cryszard. I didn't choose you as my evaluating psychiatrist for the sole purpose that you would be assigned as Haruka's."
My mouth dropped open at this revelation. What?
I stood up to face him squarely, my mouth gaping open, but words won't come out. So it was all part of his schemes? This crazy bastard had planned all this?
"Why you fucker-!" I began to loose control. I cannot accept that he manipulated me in the first place!
Jushiro grabbed hold of the collar of my shirt. His sudden violent move alerted the orderlies waiting outside. Two of them saw the situation between us has escalated and rushed towards us to stop Jushiro Nanami from doing anything more.
They had trouble prying his grip away from me and he hissed his words next to my ear.
"Prove your worth, Dr. Camus! I did not choose you for nothing! Do you understand? I want you to tell me what do you see once you enter my daughter's mind, and I promise you the moon! Do you want the information where I killed those girls? And eye for an eye, then! Give me what I want and I will give you what you want!"
The orderlies freed his fingers from my shirt and pulled him away roughly from me. The handsome man gazed back at me with his face red, and hair askew. He looked entirely different from the man I first met a few months ago.
"And what do you think I want?" I replied coldly in fury.
"Prestige. Power. And most of all. Something you should be craving for, but did not know yet!" Jushiro began to laugh as the orderlies carried him away to be sedated. I continued to watch the door where he disappeared. And then I glanced back at the chaos he created in the room: papers scattered all over, chairs upturned and the book of Homer's The Odyssey lay forgotten on the floor. I picked it up and noted some dog-eared pages.
Flipping open to the first one, my eyes caught one name that's been marked and circled by a pencil over and over again.
Circe.
oOoOoOo
"For Fate has wove the thread of life with pain, And twins ev'n from the birth are Misery and Man!"
I went home as fast as I could. My mind was jolted with all kinds of possibilities that I failed to test. I did not wait for dinner. Instead, I shooed my regular housekeeper away and informed her that she can come back after a week. I needed to concentrate on my work if I wanted to succeed.
I found Haruka watching the rains pouring outside through the bay window where she sat at the corner. I barely noticed the way she re-organized my collection of antique clocks as the silver tray of snacks I prepared rattled while I approached her.
She greeted me with a charming smile. I placed the tray on her lap and told her to eat the soup and left her.
When I came back, she finished the soup like a good girl and was already snoring gently next to the tray. I need not check her level of sleep, as I increased the dosage of the sedatives I gave her. If I wanted to enter her mind, I know what I am supposed to do.
I had long suspected it, and yet, I did not understand myself why I did not pursue this angle before; the reason why Jushiro Nanami lured those girls.
He was in love with his own daughter.
Jushiro Nanami wanted to possess his daughter not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to live through her thoughts, her dreams, her desires. He was obsessed with everything about his daughter.
And because he felt guilty of harboring such thoughts, at first, he probably tried to restrain himself from touching his daughter. And when he could not help himself, he began to look for girls that resemble Haruka and proceeded to take them by force.
I looked down at Haruka's sleeping face, the light of understanding dawning on my face. I did not realize it myself until it was too late. Haruka seduced her father unconsciously and now, she did it with me.
Jushiro Nanami wanted something from her, and I would get it.
I began to strip her clothes off her.
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The pearl buttons of her blouse flew off when I forcefully opened it, exposing her female flesh. The pearls landed on the polished timber floor with faint plinking sounds.
Tell me! I urged her in her ear, pumping inside of her.
Tell me!
Tell me their names!
Frances, Susan, Arabella. She replied.
I gathered her close to me, impaling her further.
Anna, Marie, Isabelle, Victoria.
"Yes!" I whispered, my nails scratching her back. My mind exploded with light. I could see fields around me.
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Why them? I asked. I palmed her right breast roughly. Answer me!
They are me. And I am them. She answered.
And it does make sense to me now. Why they were killed. Why they were buried so lovingly. Jushiro Nanami lured them, raped them and killed them. But not without taking some souvenir and storing it somewhere.
Inside Haruka.
"Oh God!" I mumbled and felt the climax drawing nearing.
With sweat pouring down both sides of my face, I grunted.
Feed me, Camus. Let me take some of their flesh. And I will show you my asphodel-filled paradise.
I grabbed a handful of Haruka's hair at her nape and yelled.
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My Haruka. My living doll. What Jushiro Nanami failed to accomplish, I have fulfilled. My mind felt free.
oOoOoOo
"A faultless body and a blameless mind."
It was déjà vu when I went out of my car and saw all the police surrounding the small, cozy looking cabin sitting at the edge of Lake Styx. It reminded me of a scene not too long ago when I first laid eyes on her.
The cabin serves as the silent witness to the horrors Jushiro Nanami inflicted on his victims. After repeatedly raping them, he confined them in the cabin where he killed them in various manners too gruesome to mention.
They found the remaining bodies of the victims buried in the freshly dug pits behind the log house.
But not before taking a souvenir from each victim.
Lungs, liver, kidneys, tongue….
The detectives will continue to ponder where he kept them. They thought he kept them in jars as souvenirs; something to remind him of what he has done. But they couldn't find it within the cabin. And they might never find it anywhere. The wood is vast and the dredging up the lake would be a crazy thing to do. With any luck, they would conclude that he just feeds it to the wild dogs, or wolves still haunting the forested area around the cabin.
I, for a fact, kept my lips sealed. The girls kept my Haruka alive and healthy with their contribution. I supposed I should be grateful at least.
The investigators have enough material to mount a proper case now. But I knew it would be futile. But still, the case would be close. The citizens and the media would be wanting to put these events behind and start fresh.
Jushiro committed suicide after I visited him one last time. I told him what I saw when I took his daughter. Asphodel-fields and a cabin in the middle of the woods.
He gave me a rare smile. It was a smile that looked genuine, and somewhat relieved.
What he had failed to do, I managed to complete. Our sexual union was his ultimate goal. And he ensured that he found someone to take care of his daughter when he is gone.
Me.
The state granted permission to let Haruka stay in my care permanently. I would like to think Haruka Nanami felt happy with this arrangement. She continues to live locked up in her world. But I shouldn't worry. She is mine, and mine alone.
I found Victor Holmes standing outside my doorstep and carrying a small box of Jushiro's belongings. Haruka declined to attend her own father's funeral that day. She is still afraid of the media and the victim's families seeing her. But at least they have stopped throwing insults and names at her in the television and newspapers. I managed to convince them that Haruka was a victim too. Her father terrorized her until she could no longer function mentally without some form of help.
"Hello, Dr. Holmes." I greeted pleasantly. Victor looked sleep deprived and his dejected expression made me feel smug.
"Hello, Dr. Cryszard. I came to drop some of Jushiro's stuff. I should think it belongs to Ms. Nanami now." He held up the small mementos and books and papers stuffed inside the cardboard box. I could clearly see Homer's The Odyssey with it's familiar dog-eared pages.
"Of course. Please come in." I jiggled the keys and opened the door to my house. I found Haruka Nanami waiting in the hall. She must have heard my arrival.
"Haruka. This is Dr. Holmes. He handled your father's case when he was alive. And he came to return some of his belongings." I introduced my rival to Haruka.
She nodded in greeting. "Good day, Dr. Holmes."
I studied Victor Holmes' face lighting up at the sight of Jushiro Nanami's daughter. Haruka Nanami never fails to enchant the men she meets. And Victor is no exemption to her charms.
I decided to invite him for dinner then and there.
"Dr. Holmes, how about staying for dinner? I am thinking of preparing some sweetbreads for dinner, as Haruka is craving for some lately. I know you like sweetbreads. You came at the right time." My eyes met Haruka's gold colored irises.
And she smiled knowingly.
oOoOoOo
A/N: A lot of notes and references that I need to mention:
Poem excerpts are courtesy of Homer's The Odyssey. I especially took a little of time, trying to find excerpts that may match the scenes I was aiming for. If it seems a little out of place, forgive this author's inadequacy when it comes to choosing appropriate themes.
Haruka, in this story, was inspired by Circe, the enchantress who turned Odysseus' men to swine. In Homer's epic poem, Circe was described as living in a mansion that stands in the middle of a clearing in a dense wood. Around the house prowled strangely docile all manner of wild animals; drugged victims of her magic. Odysseus was cautioned against her magic by Hermes, who gave him an her, called moly to counteract her potions. Circe holds the key to guiding him back to his island home.
Still in my inspirations for Haruka. I described Haruka as suffering from sleep-walking and talking. Typically, sleepwalkers have their eyes open with a glassy stare. But some cases, when he/she is questioned they are slow to respond or not respond at all. And they mostly do not recall of the event. Sleepwalkers usually have the following disorders or issues that may have triggered it in the first place: sleep deprivation, stress, drunk, drugged state, medical conditions such as fever, heart problems, asthma, psychiatric disorders like PTSD, panic attacks and multiple personality disorder.
I also hinted that Haruka is suffering from bouts of schizophrenia. Schizophrenia is a mental disorder often characterized by abnormal social behavior and failure to recognize what is real. Common symptoms include false beliefs, unclear or confused thinking, auditory hallucinations, reduced social engagement and emotional expression, and lack of motivation. Late adolescence and early adulthood are peak periods for the onset of this mental disease; these are critical years in a young adult's social and vocational development. In 40% of men and 23% of women diagnosed with schizophrenia, the condition manifested itself before the age of 19. The causes vary from genetic factors, substance abuse and even environmental influence [childhood trauma, the death of a parent, and being bullied or abused].
You should probably know by now that Camus Cryszard's profession here is influenced by Hannibal Lecter from Thomas Harris' The Silence of the Lambs. Hannibal Lecter is a forensic psychologist. If the phrase "lamb liver with some fava beans, crisp garden vegetables and a generous amounts of Amarone [Chianti in the movie]" doesn't get to you, I don't know where you've been hiding your self. Although I made some tweaks to the phrase, the fava beans should at least ring a bell.
Themes of Cannibalism. Yes, let's discuss a little bit of this shall we? If you didn't get why I mentioned this, I suggest you go back and read again. Hannibal Lecter cannibalized his victims, often taking "souvenirs" and consuming them. In this case, Jushiro Nanami ate parts of his victims and fed the same to Haruka. You are free to debate what you think why he did it. My take is that Jushiro is the only one who committed the crimes. By letting Haruka, his daughter, eat the flesh, he is sharing his crimes with her. He blames Haruka for driving him insane and making him commit the horrendous murders. Also, through acts of cannibalism, there is some degree of fulfillment of sexual satisfaction. And because Jushiro harbored incestuous thoughts about his daughter, he gets his high from eating the flesh of his victims.
According to Wikipedia, Cannibalism is the act or practice of humans eating the flesh or internal organs of other human beings. It is also called anthropophagy. A person who practices cannibalism is called a cannibal. The expression "cannibalism" has been extended into zoology to mean one individual of a species consuming all or part of another individual of the same species as food, including sexual cannibalism. Cannibalism was widespread in the past among humans in many parts of the world, continuing into the 19th century in some isolated South Pacific cultures, and to the present day in parts of tropical Africa. Cannibalism was practiced in New Guinea and in parts of the Solomon Islands, and flesh markets existed in some parts of Melanesia. Fiji was once known as the 'Cannibal Isles'.Cannibalism has been well documented around the world, from Fiji to the Amazon Basin to the Congo to Māori New Zealand. Neanderthals are believed to have practiced cannibalism, and Neanderthals may have been eaten by anatomically modern humans. Cannibalism has recently been both practiced and fiercely condemned in several wars, especially in Liberiaand Congo. As of 2006, the Korowai was one of very few tribes still believed to eat human flesh as a cultural practice. It is also still known to be practiced as a ritual and the war in various Melanesian tribes. Historically, allegations of cannibalism were used by the colonial powers as a tool of the empire to justify the subjugation of what were seen as primitive peoples. Cannibalism has been said to test the bounds of cultural relativism as it challenges anthropologists "to define what is or is not beyond the pale of acceptable human behavior". Cannibalism has been occasionally practiced as a last resort by people suffering from famine, including in modern times. A famous example is the ill-fated Westward expedition of theDonner Party, and more recently the crash of Uruguayan Air Force Flight 571, after which some survivors ate the bodies of dead passengers. Also, some mentally ill people obsess about eating others and actually do so, such as Jeffrey Dahmer and Albert Fish. There is resistance to formally labeling cannibalism as a mental disorder. Reasons for cannibalism surprising vary, from sexual satisfaction, as a form of conquering the enemy, subjugation, endowment of the strength and wisdom of the enemy, and in some cases, it is a part of the ritual of grieving and mourning.
I love Greek mythology. I derive some of my influences from the stories I read again and again. In the last few paragraphs, I have mentioned that Haruka gave Camus visions of asphodel fields. Asphodel is well known in Greek myths as it represents its connection to the dead and the underworld. It covers a great meadow in the underworld [Tartarus] and the fields are haunted by the dead. Asphodel plants can be found on graves, and is also said to be connected to Persephone, who appears to be crowned with a garland of asphodels. The plant is also mentioned by various poets, from Milton to Pope, Longfellow, and Barrett Browning.
Alphonse Mucha is a Czech Art Nouveau painter and decorative artist with a distinct style. His works are beautiful and colorful often incorporating women in beautiful, fantastic clothing with swirls, patterns, and unusual font styles that is characteristic of the Art Nouveau movement. I have a few printed copies of his works, which I got from Kickstarter. I may take photos of them and upload them in my facebook account one of these days
I do not encourage violence against women, cannibalism, and sexual crimes. These are just products of my imagination and another aspect of exploring the dark side of Uta Pri characters.
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