Hello! I am so sorry for the wait! But this was a giant chapter. And it was really hard to complete it since I got a work and had some personal stuff to do as well... But I really do hope you'll enjoy all of it!
I will add a discord server invite I made for the purpose of South Park and this fanfiction as well. You're all welcome, like or dislike the fanfiction! Reason why I am doing this is bcs maybe some people (I do hope so) expect the update, and I want to provide at least information about my progress. Plus I want to share ideas, insights and similar. If you want to join, head on to link on my profile!
DISCLAIMER: I'm not a native English speaker. Any mentions of psychiatric terms are purely fiction/not official. I did try to learn about them, search them, but I am not in any way a professional! Be careful if you're not comfortable with graphic violence, mental illnesses etc.
Three months earlier
A sound flowed through his open-plan apartment, ringtone from his mobile. 'Hello, earth. Hello, earth. With just one hand held up high. I can blot you out. Out of sight. Peek-a-' A melody abruptly interrupted by Kyle's wet hand.
"Yes?" Answering with a slightly annoyed tone as the melody, and whoever was on the other side of the line, interrupted his shower.
"Excuse me, is this Doctor Kyle Broflovski speaking?" A woman spoke on the other side with a strictly business-like voice and Kyle knew he couldn't simply avoid interacting with this person. Sitting down, moving fingers through his dripping wet locks then shaking his palm. His lips became a flat line when he got reminded of how wild his locks would look like tomorrow since he got interrupted and didn't put oil into his mane.
"Yes, it's Kyle Broflovski on the phone, and you are?" He corrected his speech and tone to suit the person on the other side of the phone. A polite but serious conversation was about to take place. In fact, Kyle assumed who it could be on the line.
Ever since he finished college he was involved with one of the most renowned psychiatrists and neuroscientists in the world. He travelled a lot in only a year and was sought out to be on shows and help with medical experimentations. But he kept working as a strictly private psychiatrist, having sessions in his rented office not too far away from his apartment.
There were questions of course, why, with such prowess and talent and so much knowledge he kept working in a small office with individuals who needed help with daily, monotone problems?
And Kyle's answer was always the same. 'Someone has to help an individual so the nation wouldn't go crazy.' Really, it wasn't the wrong answer or intention, and people loved him for it. And sure, they paid hefty amounts for an hour with him. But it was still a lie. And Kyle wasn't satiated with this simplicity.
But it is what it is. Because Kyle's mother, Sheila Broflovski, agreed to her son's career path only if he were to stay in a safe environment. Meaning no practical experiments on his own, no heavy patients even if it was his area of expertise. And Kyle's guilty conscious always pulled him back from any dangerous people, no matter how tempting it was to him.
His family was famous due to his father's and grandfather's infamous lawyer techniques and Kyle was expected to continue in their shoes. Except he didn't. So, as to not disappoint his family even more, he was to keep a low profile, make good money and have a fine, office job like his father.
His only consolation being the invites and meetings with people who were actually involved with something exciting.
"Good morning, apologies for the abrupt call but I am calling from Lake Mental Hospital. I assume you someone of your calibre has heard of us." Not only did he hear of it… His only wish was to at least go sight-seeing in that place.
Kyle's eyes widened slowly and his posture straightened at the sudden excitement. A giddiness filled his body and not even a drenched towel, ruining his sofa, or a mess of a hair could ruin his day.
"No, no, it's alright! Is there anything I can help you with?" Coming from a line of lawyers, already a manipulative kind, and being a psychiatrist, keeping his voice and reactions controlled was like breathing to him… Except now, when his voice practically shook in a cheerful tone.
"I am Katherine Hopkins and my job is to employ people to the Stark Lake facility." Kyle's heart wasn't sure whether to leap out of his body or just die. But all he did was bite into his lip and stare at the floor as he listened to the woman who was likely about to give him a once in a lifetime chance... And bring him to the most conflicting decision ever.
"We at this institution believe you would be a great addition to our team of specialized psychiatrists. Although you lack experience, you have proven yourself capable of many things throughout your college years. We are certainly aware of your position on this, and that you do not accept job offers in larger areas of expertise such as these-" Kyle felt his heart leap and sink so deep into his body… He felt defeated and bound. As if the pressure around his throat was coiling more and more until it would take his breath away. That was the leash Sheila Broflovski had on her son.
"I am sorry to interrupt you but I really can not accept your offer. I understand you sought me out personally and I might be suitable for the job. In reality, I am interested but…" 'I simply can't disappoint them.' For a split second, he saw his mother's discontented expression and the way she looked when she found out Kyle had gone for a different path in life.
There was a moment of silence that followed, probably because the woman, Katherine, expected Kyle to continue. But she broke the silence with a defeated sigh. Something Kyle didn't expect from her.
"I really did not want to mention this unless you had accepted the offer but… We need your help. It's true you didn't work properly with criminals, however, we saw your sessions with murderers in LA." There was a field trip of sorts during his last year of college when he travelled to Los Angeles and was given the opportunity to speak to couple serial killers. Some of them were pretty… Predictable if he could call them that. But some were challenging, everyone thought. Excluding Kyle that is.
It was a word others used to describe them. Sure, Kyle did notice their need to manipulate and understand the way they probed into your mind, which questions or words they used to get to your weaknesses. But he didn't react to them either. Once you were aware which nerve they were poking, it was quite easy to close yourself off to it. He just didn't expect anyone observing him and noting something that feeble. Kyle didn't think it'd be anything significant.
Supposedly he was dead wrong. "We have Eric Cartman in custody. I think you know what that means."
"I'll take the job." It came from his lips faster than he could comprehend it. The lady was barely finishing her words and he was already jumping at the opportunity. But then desperation hit him harder than excitement.
'What the fuck did I just do?!' Not only did he accept a work he was banned to ever approach, he accepted to work with Eric fucking Cartman. A mass murderer who admitted to have indirectly killed more than a hundred victims.
While Kyle was still in college there were news of a caught killer. He was presumed to have murdered a pair in their lodge house all the way in Arkansas. It really had nothing to do with Kyle, who studied in Boston and was filled with projects on Harvard.
Yet, Kyle had a weird obsession over serial killers, their motives and works. It was, after all the reason he took up criminal branch even if his mother had, of course, objected his choice yet again. Seriously picking up a side project was nothing new for the redhead, and he found information about this new so-called small time killer. In fact, there was nothing small about him at all.
First news only reported a pair that was brutally killed with their own baseball bat, and the police were confused about the killer's motives. Even Kyle was. Sure there were accidental, or instinctive kills, those done for the thrill of it or out of curiosity and this one could've been the same. So he dropped the case soon after, not having time for each murder that happens in the USA. And there are a lot of those.
Couple weeks after the initial report though… Media announced that the same person had killed more than thirty people. That was when Kyle's interest rose.
Of course, not everyone had access to details about these murders. As everyday citizens, they only got the information of how many happened and the killer's name, as well as being assured that he was held captive. The investigation was still ongoing about the certain number of his victims. So Kyle decided to contact a person who helped him before with interests such as these. A local Harvard hacker.
He was willing to find almost anything for a price, and Kyle had a discount, especially since his little projects were always amusing even to Token, the now engineer valedictorian.
The findings they got were astounding to Kyle. Eric Cartman, only 24 at the time, and of the same age as Kyle was convicted of more than a hundred murders. Each of them done indirectly without his physical involvement. Descriptions talked about the way he would subdue his victims with nothing more than his voice. There was even an accident during his first capture when the police released him for no apparent reason before locking him up and allowing him to escape the first time. One of the staff saw this and called higher-ups to send someone more capable. All in all, his capture seemed to have been because he lacked luck and not due to his incompetence or clumsiness. These details weren't released into the public as to not cause panic.
They found some more info, boring to Kyle, about his birth and who captured him, where he was temporary held and similar.
Token refused to look into it further, finding it hard and risky to breach into police's documents. Kyle understood it, his diploma at risk as well, but still, he was dissatisfied to let go of such a dangerous and fascinating project. He didn't even have a picture of this person and it made the whole ordeal that much aggravating.
Why?
Because Kyle kept a memento of each project he did. During high school, he gathered information he found on the internet or heard on news into a neatly stacked folder, dating back to the first serial killer when the term was just established. Once free of college, the folder grew into more of them, now carefully stored into a locked drawer of his cabinet.
Kyle, however, had to drop this case completely, finding himself at a wall and getting filled with more and more schoolwork, so the data under the title 'Eric Theodore Cartman' was scarce and depressingly short.
Only a year later, media updated the nation about Eric's death sentence. He was killed with a lethal injection soon after the trial for 53 murders, including two psychiatrists who tried talking to him.
"Wait... You mentioned the name Eric Cartman? But…" Kyle only now understood what she was talking about. He was so immersed and tempted by a simple name that he had completely forgotten what happened to that person.
'Then how was he alive?' And instead of pure puzzlement, Kyle felt his fingers trembling in awe.
"Yes… Um… Doctor Broflovski, we would like to talk to you in private about this matter and not over the phone. If you are absolutely sure about working in such conditions then we will expect you at 9 am next Monday. You know where we are?" There was a reluctance in her voice while answering the question Kyle never finished and a soft warning, even if she was the one offering him the job.
"Oh! Of course, I understand… Yes, I know where you are." Minnesota was far away. He would have to book a flight and a hotel. Lesser problems, but something he had to do.
"And Doctor… We are thankful to have you onboard but advise utmost discretion from you concerning this matter." It sounded more like a threat than an 'advice' for Kyle to keep his mouth shut. He was a professional and secrecy came with the job.
"No need, I am a professional as well. Thank you for contacting me."
"It had to be said… Have a nice day." She had hung up before he even said goodbye but didn't dwell on it much longer.
Now came the problem with his family.
It was all nice and dandy until he actually had to talk to his mother about this. No, he technically didn't. He was an adult. But lying to Sheila Broflovski was like signing a death sentence. Kyle simply could never do that or say no to her…
Save this one time when he accepted this job.
Even though he was still sitting with only a towel around his waist, and his hair was still wet, with occasional curl reaching for heaven, he had to dial his mother while his resolve was strong enough.
"Oh, Bubbe! It's so nice to hear from you! What made you call so suddenly?" It didn't take more than two rings for his mother to pick up the phone. Kyle knew she had a special ringtone for just him and always hurried when she heard it. But more than that, the nickname was getting old, although it felt nostalgic hearing it.
"Mom. Each time I tell you, you should stop with the nickname. I am not a child anymore." He leaned back against the sofa, staring into the ceiling.
"Nonsense! You will always be my baby." A typical thing he would hear from any mother. Except she actually meant it and acted like it.
"Yes, alright mom. Anyways, I called you because I have some news." He felt a knot forming in his stomach. A knot that could easily spill through his mouth if this went on for long enough.
"Oh? Oh, bubbe did you finally find someone?!" He heard his mom already yelling through the house and calling for his father… This whole thing was getting worse by second. So now he had to disappoint her twice. If she wouldn't think of something else as well.
"Mom! No!" A soft grumble flowed out before he could really control himself. His mother could truly bring one to the point of insanity in just a couple of minutes.
"Don't you grumble at me! Mommy just wants what's best for you… You do know you are not so young anymore. Sure you could find a younger woman, but don't go for too young, you know people talk-"
"Mother, enough." He had to interrupt her little speech before it got too long. And using a more formal title for her always made her wary of Kyle's next words. "I accepted a job at an asylum." Calmly, maybe too calmly as it came out as somewhat of a warning.
"WHAT! WHAT! WHAT?!" Kyle hated that screech from the deepest parts of his soul. "HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN WHAT OUR DEAL WAS?! KYLE BROFLOVSKI YOU COME HOME RIGHT THIS INSTANT BEFORE ANYONE ELSE FINDS OUT ABOUT THIS!" Her voice could really reach new heights of human possibilities. He didn't know if he should chuckle or cry about that fact since his ears were ringing with pain.
That knot was dangerously close to spilling. But the shaking of his palms and the excitement he felt at this opportunity he was given hadn't died down completely and Kyle finally felt that rebellious side taking over for once.
"I am old enough to choose for myself. I won't let you or my father decide what I want. Just because I complied until now doesn't mean I will let it continue!" Slowly but steadily he was getting angrier. If this wouldn't end soon it'd get dangerous for both of them. When it came to his family, he was easily moved.
"What kind of tone are you using with me, young man?! Fine then! Expect both me and your father on your front door tomorrow!" If this were any other discussion, Kyle was sure he would've already apologized and let his mother drag him back home. But this has gone for long enough!
"Oh so now I am young?! I thought it was due time to screw someone to get a grandchild for you! Well, next time you decide to call, I want it to be when you're finally goddamn happy for your son's achievements!" Never in his life had he hung up on his mother but there was always a first.
"FUCKIN' BITCH!" And never had he swore at his own family.
With an arm over his forehead and letting his breathing calm down, he reminded himself how childish he truly acted. Yet he couldn't help his grin. A wide proof of his freedom.
The knot engulfed his body with goosebumps and trembles.
"Heh…Pfft… Ahahaha!" Like his grin, the emotions just went out without restrictions before logic took over his head again.
"Shiiiit!" He wasn't sure if he was laughing or crying out for help at this point. But all he did know was that this felt so fucking good to get off his chest that kept rising and falling unevenly with his shaky breath.
"Just how the hell am I supposed to face them from now on?" Kyle let his arm fall beside his body.
The leftover sour taste and unfinished business definitely wasn't his style. Yet the liberation and the weight that fell off his shoulders couldn't be described with words! Kyle loved order and hated mess in both mind and body… But this… It felt so deliciously wrong. A deep, delightful breath rolled out his throat while looking at the apartment he was about to abandon.
And there was no grief or nostalgia for this place that was devoid of any character or feelings of home. He had no connection to it nor this town, no friends and much less lovers. Boston was simply so far away from his family that it was comfortable for Kyle.
-X-X-
Monday came by quickly, especially for Kyle who ran away from Boston before his mother might've actually appeared and spent a couple of days in Aitkin, exploring the place and finding a car for rent. He found out he only had fifteen minutes from his hotel to Stark Lake and its compound.
The place was renovated, with an old wing still attached to it that waited for its change. Inside everything was fairly new as well and Kyle's office was looking quite nice. All of the staff he met until now was distant but respectful. Everyone except Leopold Stotch, a head nurse who explained to him the ropes instead of the woman on the phone, and showed him around. Kyle couldn't remember all the sections, of course, but that is why he has Leopold beside him.
It turns out the supposedly killed Eric Cartman was too valuable to be put down without any experimentation. And so he was proclaimed dead while confined to a place where he could be studied like a lab rat.
A development Kyle couldn't say was ungrateful for. It was the sole reason he accepted this job. And supposedly there were many doctors before Kyle who tried to subdue, reach or control Eric's mind… But have all failed. That risk was listed on his contract as one of the dangers. Still, he accepted this without reluctance. The only compromise being that he still wouldn't be allowed to freely talk to Kyle no matter how much he tried to convince them that he was ready for it… The positive thing he pulled out of it is that at least none of his patients would be under drug's influence, not even Eric.
Counting the most dangerous man on the planet, he had around fifty patients under his care. A meager number compared to other doctors here, but they made sure to give Kyle shorter shifts and fewer people since he would be working with not only Eric but other serious criminals as well. Even if he never worked with one, he was given a schizophrenic case as well. But really, Kyle hadn't worked properly with many serious mental disorders anyways, it seems it didn't matter to the higher-ups and they saw more in Kyle than he himself did.
His schedule consisted of a couple of easier patients and later shifts were reserved for heavier cases when everyone else was in their designated cells and the risk of letting out people like Eric wasn't as high. So the first order of business was almost like a warmup for Kyle… But his patients weren't happy with a new doctor at first. It seems they don't take kindly to his types around here. New and young wasn't the best combination to gain respect, but Kyle has been dealing with that obstacle for a while as he was but looked young for his age as well.
After all, he believed respect was earned. So no more than half an hour into a session they warmed up to him.
And now, it was finally time to dive into a proper challenge.
"We are completely sure that Kenneth McCormick disassociates from reality however we are not sure yet in which way this process happens... He keeps telling me how many times and how he had died and promises that it happened. He is a total nutjob! And I don't like how he looks at me, teasing and telling me I'm adorable. I am a man too!" Leopold started with an official report… But it seems he had a personal problem with this patient. It was cute how pouty he could look for an adult. But yes, Kyle did understand how that could pose as a problem for someone who is quite emersed in his job.
"Oh, Jesus! I am sorry, Doctor! This was very unprofessional of me. In fact, Kenneth is quite a nice fella, but he treats me weirdly and I always feel uncomfortable around him." Kyle saw a small frown in the usually smiling face. Not that he'd known Leopold for a long time, but he always seemed positive. Now he simply seemed confused by his own thoughts, as if disliking someone was wrong but he couldn't help himself.
In all honesty, it amused and intrigued Kyle even more to meet this Kenneth person.
"Just Kyle is fine. And yes, I get how it could be uncomfortable to work around someone who flirts with you." Now Leopold's face got even more puzzled.
"Flirting? Oh, no! Why in all heavens would Kenneth flirt with me? He just enjoys playing around since I am the only one nice towards him." Kyle didn't probe any further but now he even felt a bit sorry for his assistant.
"We're here." Kyle entered the cell after Leopold, this one without the glass connected to the hallway since the office itself had a double-sided mirror to observe the patients and call a guard if anything would go wrong. These sessions were highly risky after all.
"Butters!" The blonde inmate, not chained besides having police handcuffs, immediately rose from his seat and showed obvious delight at the nurse's presence.
"Stop calling me Butters…" He only muttered into his chin, annoyed by the nickname but not aggressive enough or angry to actually talk back. Which wasn't a bad thing. Kenneth's records showed he was nowhere near gentle and if he were to gain a grudge against… 'Butters', it might be dangerous for him.
At the presence of Kyle, however, he seemed to have quickly changed his mood and got angry. Kyle's relaxed and proper posture now got more cautious but he didn't allow his case to notice it, only nodding towards him with a soft, respectful smile.
In one instance, in his third year of college, he was told by a professor that his approach towards patients was too kind. It's not that he was nice or gentle towards them, it was just that he supposedly showed too much equality. As if they were the same. By the end of his speech he basically told Kyle he acted sickly. A phrase he remembered very well, 'Those nutcases don't deserve to be treated as equals. They are sick. And the sick should not be the ones in charge.' Not only did Kyle not change his approach, he stubbornly fortified his own way of dealing with his patients. It was partly out of spite sure, but he wanted to prove wrong those who thought of mentally ill as lesser than themselves.
"Who the fuck is this, Butters?"
Leopold softened his brows, getting his business expression back and ignoring the nickname he didn't quite fancy.
"Doctor Heinkel was repositioned to a different ward and from today onwards, doctor Broflovski will be working with you." A hand stopped in front of Kyle's chest as the nurse presented him.
"It's nice to-"
"I don't want this asshole!" The interruption came like a bullet as he completely ignored any attempt of Kyle's for a normal conversation. He was even approaching the redhead and he realized that the blondie was almost half a head taller than him. But his presence held no danger. Almost as if he didn't have anything else to show.
He proved Kyle's theories when he tried to so predictably grab his white coat and do a typical uppercut… That the doctor swiftly avoided, grabbed Kenneth's neck and wrist and squeezed. The attacker's eyes ran up to Kyle's emerald ones and over his arms. It was obvious his shock took over him and Kenneth lost his grip on the situation.
His Adam's apple bobbed under Kyle's palm in realization. Sure he had a free hand unlike Kyle, but the difference in experience was obvious and it took him only a moment to gulp his pride back and admit defeat.
"Oh, jeez! Fellas please…" He lifted his palms but Kyle was faster and smiled toward his assailant.
"Schizophrenic? I don't think so." Kenneth loosened his grip immediately and gave him a deep frown as Leopold still held his hands up as if he could separate them even if he tried.
Kyle used a method of complying or well agreeing with the patient, but honestly, he didn't think this person had schizophrenia. There was one sign only, and that was his belief that he was immortal. But even children think they can be immortal. Many multiple personality disorders gain a warped opinion of themselves as well.
That didn't mean he completely scratched schizophrenia away, it just meant he wanted to come to his patient with a clean slate. It might be the first sign of it, but in records, it says he's been at it for five years now and had always believed in this fact. So either his state wasn't getting worse, which Kyle doubted again, or other doctors were simply wrong with his diagnosis.
"Now, doctor, you can't just say that to him… Others have been trying to make him realize this for years. Ya know, every healing process starts with recognition!" He was truly trying to be kind, and his hands waving softly in the air, then joining together made him really look like a soft angel. But that didn't help in this case.
"Oh my fucking God, I am not schizophrenic!" Kenneth didn't really yell, but his tone was stiff and tough, trying to prove a point. There was no panic, no bewilderment or anxiety in this person, nothing hidden or scared of being let out. Instead, Kyle simply saw a dejected person at the lack of other's understanding. Almost like he was trying to prove something petty, a test result or that he didn't put a gum into a girl's hair.
'Interesting.' His mind was rational and intact, he was fully conscious of his decisions and thoughts. Kyle could almost call him falsely accused if it weren't for the way he killed more than twenty people.
Butters twitched in place and frowned… Like a child, he crossed his arms, rejecting to listen to Kenneth any longer. "Fine then. I simply wanted to help you since you're not such a bad fella. But now I won't anymore." Kyle could've sworn he saw Kenneth's mouth jerk into a smile but couldn't confirm it.
Not even having time to say anything to relax the situation and of everyone here, it was Kenneth that eased the pressure in air with his bright grin. Friendly he grabbed his new doctor's shoulders and proclaimed his satisfaction.
"I like you! Let's sit and chat. Butters, bring us some water?" He pulled on his polite expression, aware that they wouldn't let him have anything besides water.
Leopold only tightened his arms, still crossed, and mumbled into his beard. "Butters do this. Butters do that. Why doesn't anyone appreciate what I do here."
Except he actually did leave and Kyle was utterly sure he would soon bring them water… Kyle got it now, why inmates acted around him like he was their friend. And although he allowed Kenneth to tell him what to do, he was simply doing it out of kindness as well as to show that he wasn't angry at him.
Kenneth went around the table to sit at his usual spot. He thought that having a younger doctor meant he could be sloppy, lifting his legs onto the table and crossing them.
Kyle sat down and lifted a judging brow at the pose he made. Somehow it made Kenneth feel ashamed. Or maybe childish at what he'd done. This new person was willing to give him a chance to explain himself opposed to others and he was acting like he owned this place.
Then again why would he care? Were his thoughts as his feet landed on floor and Kenneth sat upright against the chair. "So, doctor… What is your wildest sex fantasy?"
The redhead was thinking how Kenneth's and Leopold's hair had the same pale shade of blonde colour when the question threw him out of his thoughts. "Kenneth…"
"No, no, just Kenny for friends." Kyle took the papers Leo left on the table and opened them, taking a notepad from his coat.
"Kenny then, you can call me Kyle." He offered a palm to his patient and Kenny took it without any grudge over what happened.
"So what is it?" He suddenly pulled Kyle closer, never letting go of the palm as he leaned over the table. The redhead was hoping the question would be forgotten, but his hopes were crushed by Kenny's charming little smirk, awaiting the delicious information.
Kyle understood why someone like Butters would find Kenny uncomfortable. But then again, at least he didn't bother Leopold with gruesome details of carnage and murders.
Quite obviously he couldn't get out of this situation. People such as Kenny would never back down without getting something out of you. Sure, Kyle could ignore it, act distant, but that would just build walls between him and his goal. A better plan unfolding in his mind.
"Three of my questions for one of yours." Kyle lifted fingers and jerked a small tempting smile, knowing a person like him would catch the bait.
"Fucking hell! A negotiator! I like it!" Kenny was out of his mind at the fact he got such a cool doctor, unaware that even a three-to-one deal could be diverted and cheated in. "So what is it?" He repeated the question again and sat back as a good patient should.
Kyle found him simple. Chummy and bafflingly easy to control. But intriguing enough to keep his mind occupied before the main dish.
"Nothing." It was a depressingly sad truth. But somehow he doubted Kenny would just let him go with this kind of answer.
"What?! That's not fair! I intended to answer you truthfully and you avoid my question!" Yep, Kenny wouldn't just let it go.
"I did answer you honestly though." A small smile played on Kyle's face, a tiny victory for him since Kenny just seemed to have asked the wrong question.
"Seriously, doctor? Nothing?" Kenny was the expressive type, his doctor's lack of sexual interest was so astonishing, his face couldn't decide whether to frown, gape or just blink.
Kyle simply leaned his chin on palm and sighed softly. "That's two more questions from you." And Kenny shut up immediately.
"My turn. Why do you think you're not schizophrenic?" Blondie had to blink before his mind comprehend the question.
"You're asking me? Shouldn't you be asking other doctors about that?" But he lifted his palm quickly as if to halt Kyle from saying anything. "Don't fuckin' count that as questions!" And… It pulled a wider smile from Kyle. For a while, he didn't feel so lighthearted around a patient.
"I won't, I won't." Kenny took that as a promise and continued talking.
"Any schizophrenic person will say, 'I'm not sick.' But seriously, dude. I am not! Don't demented people have like those weird episodes and panic attacks and scribble on walls with their bloodied nails or some shit?!"
"Actually, schizophrenia doesn't fall under the term 'dementia'. That would be Alzheimer's for example. But ye, you're right 'bout the attacks and scribbles. Another thing describing it in many cases would be social withdrawal or OCD." A slip happened to Kyle when he let himself use everyday talk, but it seems Kenny didn't mind it or paid any attention to it… Rather, he focused on something else entirely…
"Oh, I definitely don't have problems getting socially involved or getting messy." He giggled like some schoolgirl on a Saturday night, about to catch a half-drunk football player for the balls.
Kyle's lips parted for the next question but Kenny unknowingly interrupted him with a sudden, almost droolly chuckle as he stared at the white wall behind Kyle… And daydreamed.
"Soft… Almost like clouds." He was murmuring to himself and Kyle waved a hand in front of his face.
"Kenny?" His body jumped in place at the same time as Kenny stood up and banged his palms against the metal table.
The redhead was getting ready for another fight when out of everything he was expecting-
"Do you know how long it's been since I've seen boobs! I'm getting depressed even thinking about it! 4 years, 9 months, 23 days and 18 hours doctor!"
-that came out of his mouth.
But the desperation, the hopelessness in his watery eyes made Kyle almost feel bad for the blonde guy… Then he remembered what he was sad about.
"Um… I'm sorry about that?" Kyle really, really didn't know how to respond to his little episode. 'Seems like he does have his episodes… Just not schizophrenic related ones.'
Kenneth looked down and only now noticed the most unamused expression Kyle was giving him.
"Ah… Sorry doctor." He was already sitting when the doors opened and Leopold strolled in with two bottles of water. Soft plastic that can't be easily cut. A safest type of container for this place.
"I just really miss titties." He said and followed up with a dramatically long exhale.
"Kenneth McCormick! Are you not listening to the doctor and are just… Prattling nonsense about… Boobies and such? And that's not a nice name for them Kenny! They are called breasts." Did Butters just lower his tone while saying 'boobies'? Yes. Because Leopold was a very respectful person. Even towards female body parts.
Kyle, however, had just enough respect not to sigh at this whole situation and simply took the bottle from Butters' hand. "Thank you, Leopold, and it's alright. Let him be."
Seems like Butters' existence only gave Kenny a constant good mood, as Kenny already forgot about his boobpression. And the one responsible for that effect was painfully oblivious to it as he slammed the bottle onto the table, right in front of his grinning face.
"Only because the doctor says it's alright!" Kyle had very high doubts that Leopold gave him the water just because he said it's fine. Somehow he found it difficult to imagine Leopold ever being malicious or spiteful towards anyone in any situation. Even when they used the word 'titties'.
Kenny didn't mind the sour mood or the frown the fellow blondie showed and just snickered happily. Kyle found him quite aware of other's emotions, he simply didn't seem to care about them too much, as he just showed by not pushing Butters any further but not hiding his own cheerfulness either.
"Where were we?" As soon as he was gone, Kyle took a sip from his bottle and returned to the matter at hand.
"I miss breasts?" Kyle definitely noticed the subtle difference. Kenny listened to Butters and in fact, changed the term he used…
"Before that, Kenny." It was the doctor's time to react to the whole absurdness of the situation and his patient simply shrugged at the judgy smile Kyle was giving him. "Ah, yes, I was in the middle of asking you a question. Have you ever felt pain during your one of your supposed deaths?"
The only answer Kenny gave was a sudden flood of laughter. A genuine belly laugh Kyle didn't quite understand the meaning of… Not until the fit ended and Kenny's blue eyes seemed to have deepened. He wasn't sure if they got darker or was Kyle the one hallucinating this time.
Kenny's carefree demeanour got taken over by something malicious. He wiped his tears away and Kyle finally saw the person those criminal records described.
"Doc. Did ya know that for three seconds you are conscious after a bullet passes right through here." He pointed right between his eyes. "For three seconds you can feel how the bullet cuts through your skin… The scraping against your skull. Twice of course, since it gets out through the other side. But the worst of all is when it digs deep into your brain. Doc, have you ever dipped your finger into a fresh cheese? Mellow, spongey. Now think how you're pushing your finger into a brain, filled with nerves, all of them on edge, disturbed and spreading pain into each cell of your body. Three seconds doesn't sound like a lot… If it's a one time gig only that is…"
Kyle never felt like puking. And this time wasn't an exception. But his grip around the pen made his fingers go white, his heart was louder than his breath and his pupils were dilated.
An outsider would say Kyle was frightened, so dumbstruck he couldn't react. But Kyle knew what this is. Suspense. Eagerness. He wanted more. And finally, he felt like taking up this job was worthy.
"Kenny-" His tone still as flat, still business-like. Still fake.
But Kenneth was pure. Grinning with all his might, like a salivating animal. Kenneth McCormick was insane. "And Kyle. It is the best feeling in the world to have all your nerves active." The giddiness of this monster in front of him, his open lust for pain was enough to make Kyle's lips twitch into a smile.
They didn't share the love for the same kind of stimulants. But they definitely agreed on one thing. Having your nerves on edge was truly the best feeling ever.
-X-X-
"Butters. I told you I don't need a new doctor."
The difference between Kenneth's and Stanley's personalities came like a shock. Not only was Stan rejecting a session, but he was dead-set on ignoring Kyle's presence completely even while sitting across the table of him.
The black-haired man was supporting his chin with a palm and seemed like he was following each end of a sentence with a sigh. The discussion was only going on for a couple of minutes, yet Kyle lost the count after the seventh annoyed exhale he gave.
And his eyes crossed with Kyle's only once when he entered the session room, avoiding the green gaze since.
"Stanley, you will suck it up and talk to doctor Broflovski because he flew all the way from Boston to deal with your grouchy… Rump!" Leopold refused to use the word 'ass' like any other human being.
And Stanley's only response was the grouchy moan and an eye roll. "I really don't wanna, though. Don't you guys have like every detail about me in that yellow book of yours? I'm pretty sure you noted down the way I take a shit as well. I've been under observation for almost five years now."
"We don't record the way you poop, Stan. That'd be simply rude." Butters couldn't help but mention that. He obviously didn't understand the exaggeration in Stanley's choice of words.
Kyle was losing precious time he had with his patient, for the first time thinking Butters was keeping him away from his work. He was happy for having him and examining the way patients interacted with him, but right now he was stalling him.
So Kyle opened the washed-out yellow records about patients, purposely slamming the table when he did it, and lifted his eyes directly into the murderer's, finally able to catch his gaze. Pale grey one that was like a paint mixed with couple drops of blue.
"Stanley, how come a person of your age still hasn't gotten over his emo phase?" Kyle took a different approach with this person.
He needed to establish who was who in this 'relationship'. And Stanley was so evidently a person who needed to be challenged to give you attention. He couldn't take the friendly approach with the black-haired one, he needed to assert himself and show his presence.
But Kyle's own expression stayed the same. Yes, he was a bit ticked on the inside for being blatantly ignored but he wasn't about to show it. Instead, he made it seem like he was just stating a fact and was oblivious to how it sounded.
It seemed to have fumed his target, even more, jerking out a frown from him. Just the reaction Kyle wanted. Maybe not as vigorous as he expected it but enough for starters.
The doctor was still under the impact of his last session, filled with adrenaline and wishing to pull out the same from Stan. But it wasn't the healthy nor moral thing to do and so he kept his own wishes under a lock for now.
An hour spent with Kenneth didn't reveal too much, rather it unravelled things Kyle wanted to keep shut. With him, Kyle felt relaxed, on the same wavelength with a murderer. But they didn't talk much about his 'glories', victims that is, as he didn't want to rile him up too much.
In fact, the rest of his time with Kenny revolved around movies and him trying to make Kyle talk about Butters. A depressing development after the little episode the blondie had, but he felt it to be the right approach, as it would make the next sessions much easier and informative.
With Stanley, he was more reserved. He simply seemed uninterested in his new medical staff and definitely wasn't the easily riled type.
"Stan. That's how everyone calls me."
"Stan, then-"
"And I'm not emo." He lowered his hand and sat normally, finally facing the redhead properly. "I just really, really don't wanna talk to you." Each elaborated word followed by a short wave of his palms towards the doctor.
Kyle was truly getting sick of being interrupted all the time.
"Well… You just did." Kyle cocked a small smirk over the insignificant, tiny victory.
"Uggh!" Another groan came from him as his fingers found its way to his nose bridge and not so gently massaged that place. "I'm already getting a headache."
"Well, I guess it's time for me to leave, fellas." Kyle nodded softly and waited for Butters to leave as he looked through the notes again. Like with Kenny, they didn't have a lot of personal confessions from Stan.
No, scratch that, they had even less for Stanley. It seems like he truly rejected any help for almost five years now. His records did contain details about his past, contrary to Kenny's that were mostly blank on that subject.
Stan hadn't committed so many murders, but each of them was more gruesome than the last and it said he never showed remorse when they were mentioned and discussed. In fact, one doctor mentioned that on one occasion he showed pride over his murders. But it was only one doctor and only a glimpse.
Nevertheless, Kyle was certainly grateful to at least have the information about his family, schools he attended and friends. Seems like no one was reluctant to talk about him. And they all testified that Stan Marsh was a kind, slightly distant but very approachable person. He always went on trips with his family and even his grades were decent. 'So this wasn't about being an outcast… Wait. He was the highschool's best football player?'
It were truly details that mattered. And all of the details described in here were… Almost like he was reading a school and not a criminal report.
"Cozy family you've got there. Randy, your father, did you get along with him?" Stan simply sighed again and with his eyebrows high up but half-lidded eyes, he looked like he was high on weed.
"Aha…" Was a simple answer. But at least Kyle was sure he was listened to and not completely ignored.
Kyle lifted his eyes from the papers but saw nothing coming from Stan, simply disinterest. So he pushed further.
"Sharon Marsh… A receptionist. How was she towards you when you were little?"
"Like any normal mom." Doctor's gaze went up again and met Stan's. He simply looked at him for a second as he answered and then looked away again.
"That is all? Is there anything you'd like to tell me about them?" And Stan sighed… Yet again.
"No, doctor. I still don't wanna talk to you." And really, nothing in his behaviour showed reluctance, or nervousness, or just any body sign that was acting against his mind.
Next question then. "What about your sister, Shelly? Is she important to you?" Stan's peer simply kept roaming around the empty room and stayed on the double-sided mirror for a moment longer, then passed over doctor again but didn't dwell on it long.
Whatever Kyle wanted to pull out, was simply not getting out. Stan didn't seem like a controlling type or a hard nut to crack… It was just that he was asked the wrong questions.
Until Kyle read the small side note he found in his papers… 'Bingo.'
"Shelly has been found bruised and beaten? Was it your parents' fault, Stan? Did they molest you two? Or just her?" Kyle could've stopped on the first question because there was a reaction. His arms were loosely crossed against his chest this whole time, but now his palms tightly clenched the flesh.
Either it was instinct or forced, but his eyes and expression stayed calm. Seems like he himself didn't notice the impulsive squeeze, and really it was for a second only.
But Kyle, acting like he didn't just win, finally picked up his pen and wrote something down into his own notes.
"What are you writing?" And Stan finally showed a conscious reaction. He felt worry and first pangs of panic, seeing that doctor had something to note down. Black brows furrowed just enough to change his bored expression into an alarmed one.
"Hm? Oh, nothing really, just that Shelly's your pressure point." Kyle answered him without reluctance, tempted to see how he'd react if his weakness, or at least interest, was discovered.
The response he got was definitely not disappointing. "She's not my pressure point." Not only did his voice made sure to pause after the 'not' and stretch the word, but his shoulders also shrugged and slouched. A forced reaction of someone who wanted to hide stress with fake indifference.
Before Stan closed off completely, Kyle scratched the words in his notes, making sure Stan would see it. "My apology in that case." As well as showing a polite, practised smile. But it was a ruse to trick his patient into believing he was out of the danger zone.
Unlike Stanley, Kyle had classes on how to hide body language or fake it properly.
Continuing through the notes he found something quite intriguing. "Stan, this Wendy girl, she was your childhood friend according to testaments from your family?"
Stan groaned in sudden annoyance and pinched his nose yet again. "Doctor. Are we done already? I am really not going to talk to you." Now they were getting somewhere.
Kyle understood the anger he was showing before they started the session, and sure it could've continued throughout it… But Stanley was far from angry up until this point. All he showed was subtle annoyance at the questions mostly. So what was with the sudden burst of expressions and sounds?
"Hmm… Says here she was your neighbour as well?" Stan seemed to have two states. Groaning one and the sighing one. He was back to the latter as he leaned against the chair and threw his head back, staring into the ceiling like a kid, bored out of his mind.
"Oh?" It was instead Kyle who lifted brows in interest over the information he was given. He stared at the papers and read out what he had on Wendy Testaburger without lifting his eyes from the words.
"An A+ student throughout her schooling, promoter for young politicians? An editor for high school newspapers? Even a high school valedictorian? And it says she's the same age as me and you Stan." For a while now he hadn't heard a sound coming from his patient. Not even a groan or a ruffle from his clothes. "Who knows, maybe she'd like redheads, say is she si-"
"Do not cross that line. Kyle." Doctor locked their gazes yet again. Not only was Stan finally looking at him with murderous eyes, but he was also openly threatening him. Difference between Kenny and Stan was that the latter one was always full of murderous intent. He simply didn't feel like directing it towards Kyle… Until now.
"There we are, Stanley. Isn't that better?" Kyle grinned at the blackhead across the table with one of the most unprofessional and charming smiles.
"Tch." Stan realized what happened a second too late and grabbed the hair on his nape, trying so hard to not give Kyle any attention but the half-lidded, pissed off eyes couldn't resist it. With his body leaned to the front now, a sign of engagement, he gritted his teeth in defeat. "What do you want?"
A livid tone of voice in a defeated patient is everything Kyle needs to get off.
It wasn't the most polished thing to do but Kyle couldn't help the small, almost salivating smirk he gave towards his patient. It was out of character and if he were on class, a warning would suffice.
But this time he was alone, the double-sided mirror was behind Kyle, and this was his turf.
If he wanted to play, then no one here could stop him. After all, they paid him for it.
"Stan, all I want is an honest chat with you." His tone was still friendly, practised. Because everyone behind the glass could still hear them.
It seems Stan caught the whiff of Kyle's little… Game. And he wasn't sure whether to frown, smile a bit or just keep parting lips and closing them with lack of words. He, like Kenny, didn't expect a doctor as odd as this one.
"Fine. But I don't like the audience." His arms crossed again, closing off any approach before his conditions were satisfied.
"Not a problem." Clearing his throat and returning a polite smile as he turned in place and waved towards the mirror. "Leopold, can you come for a moment?" Kyle talked to the mirror, knowing him and probably a doctor or two were on the other side.
And really, Butters entered not even half a minute later, looking for a moment at Stan, who was a bit confused at the development. Least he expected was privacy considering for how long he was monitored.
"I am sorry to ask this of you, I know it's not the protocol but could you turn off the microphone just this one time?" Kyle gave him a guilt-filled look, knowing it was wrong of him, but he had to use the blondie's naivety just a bit. He could get so much out of Stan if he could just have the leftover time of this session in privacy. Just a simple one on one.
"I don't mind if you keep observing behind the mirror, but let us at least speak in private. Stan, is that alright?" He turned to the patient, actually giving him a choice in this matter. He was still confused by the doctor's approach but all he did was shrug his shoulders.
"Yea, I guess that's the most I could get in this place." And Kyle nodded, affirming that this was still a session and they were in an almost prison-like place. Kyle couldn't just arrange a hotel room for the two of them and a dinner at the finest restaurant. They'd have to do with what they had.
"Oh, bejesus, I am not sure, doctor. I don't think-" Leopold stop his words, bitting softly into his lip as his fingers played, tangling and tapping tips against tips. "I guess it could be alright…" A soft, defeated breath left his lips. Truly the naïve kind… Kyle almost felt sorry for using him. Almost being the keyword.
"Oh, yeah. Butters, could you bring me some water?" Stan interrupted his doubtful thoughts and Butters, for the first time, showed genuine anger.
Softly he stomped his heel into the floor and pointed a finger towards the inmate.
"Okay, that's far enough! Now I have had it with both you and Kenny! You act like I am just some… Some maid here! Like I just need to serve you!"
Before any of them could calm him down, Leopold stormed out, clenching his fists…
And returning couple minutes later with a bottle of water… Yet again slammed against the table.
"Microphone is turned off, doctor." He didn't look at either Stan or Kyle this time. His lips tightened and arms crossed as a frown decorated his face.
"Thank you, Leopold. I really owe you one." His blue eyes, tinged with a tone of green, defeatedly looked at Kyle's pure green and like a child who couldn't refuse a candy he stopped pouting and breathed out.
"You sure do, mister." A title he used not because Kyle was older, but simply as a warning.
After another apologetic look from the redhead, Leo decided it was time to leave the two alone yet again, to use their leftover half an hour the best they could.
-X-X-
The amount of information he managed to get this time was, in fact, bigger than what he got out of Kenny.
Stan wasn't as complicated and flickery as the blondie. Latter had an obvious personality disorder, being bipolar. While Stan was just rebellious and cautious. But somehow what he had on them, notes from other psychiatrists, were quite vague, shallow or plain wrong.
Kenny the schizophrenic and Stan the sociopath. Whilst both of them did have certain small signs to indicate those disorders, to Kyle it just felt like they wrote the easiest answer and called it a day.
Especially with Kenny. 'Have they not seen his episodes?'
Even Stan was quite easy to breach into once he found a weak spot. You only had to dig long enough.
So did the doctors simply not want to deal with them or was Kyle's approach giving him more answers in an hour than other psychiatrists got in 3 years.
He let out a sigh, feeling his headache softly kicking in after the whole day of work. And the worst is yet to come.
With Kenny he was genuinely enjoying their talks, on contrary, with Stan, he was walking on thin ice. He even started faking and acting out a slightly insane person to appease the patient and butter him up.
Except Kyle somehow managed to lose sight of the line between faking and his own desires. The more he tried to act out a lunatic, the more he actually felt like one. And the more it all became natural and organic for him.
He seriously needs to get a grip on himself and this whole situation before he lost his years of practice to lunacy.
It was just that both of them were so twistedly nice and enticing to play with.
He felt like a kid whose parents never gave him chocolate, to suddenly be surrounded by it. And any person, especially Kyle who studied these areas, could know that this could easily turn into an addiction.
"Leo… May I call you that?" He was still sitting in the same session room, even after they took Stanley away, and talked into the empty space, knowing the microphone was back on and Butters was observing him.
Both of them waiting for Eric Cartman after all.
"Oh, but sure Kyle. I'd love a nickname like that!" Kyle looked over his shoulder and thankfully smiled towards the mirror.
"When is the next session?"
"Oh, why it's in half an hour. What is troubling you, doctor?" He talked through the microphone, but Kyle was aware of his sudden worry.
"Nothing, nothing. Just a slight headache."
The convoluted thoughts kept his nerves sensitive and he was really re-thinking the idea of having the pause when he did. Maybe he should've taken a proper break from the work after Kenny rather than before.
His mind was starting to overthink one thing after the other and he didn't even notice the beeping sound of doors and Leo approaching him.
Not before he touched Kyle's shoulder and made him jump on the seat.
"Jesus Leo!"
"I'm sorry, doctor!"
"It's fine… I am just a bit... On edge." Finally, a breath left his mouth and he relaxed again when he noticed a hand in front of him and a pill in the soft palm.
"I can see that, yes." He smiled towards him and Kyle took the pill.
"Thank you, Leo." Butters nodded, leaving him alone with his thoughts, yet again.
And just before he dropped the pill into his mouth, a thought occurred to Kyle. One far stronger than any. Finally, a rational one.
'I will be doing this for months. Years actually!' A psychiatrist who wasn't even a full day into this job and was already taking medication.
Like a brick hitting his head, he was dumbstruck by the realization of how dumb he sounded. He was fucking worrying about handling Eric without even seeing him. He was being sucked into this world in a matter of seconds. Not only was he unprofessional, but it was getting to him personally. And it was the first day alone.
So he didn't take the pill but left it beside the papers and dug into them.
He needed a plan. He needed to get his shit together, recollect his thoughts to use his knowledge properly. Eric was a person who killed more than a hundred people with his words only and Kyle really needed to have the upper hand in this.
Like Kenny and Stan, Eric's exact diagnose wasn't determined yet. Somehow… Kyle was starting to see a pattern here.
He got all the troublemakers and loose ends in this place. It figures since he is new here, but did they not think about his lack of experience?
He wouldn't say he was underqualified for this job and all these patients… But he would say he was maybe, just a bit… Overestimated?
Now it felt like getting excited over that main dish was making him slightly, just a little bit nauseous.
He did have doubts about himself yes. He never truly tested his abilities out in the field after all. Regardless of his lack of practical knowledge, he definitely thought that the job he was doing before was dumbing him down. He was overqualified for something a psychologist could easily do.
It was getting annoying how fluctuating his thoughts were. So much he took a breath and just decided to go with his gut, ruffling his hair as if that would blow all the thoughts away.
He was obviously good at this. He simply needed to keep a cool head and not play along. Maybe for once, he should follow the book. Just slightly though.
"Eric is here Kyle." And already half an hour passed, Leo's voice filling the space around him like an alarm.
Already the door was opening and Kyle had little time to fix his messed up hair back into a styled one. Except it wouldn't work anyways. His frizzles were out and about, ready to take on the world like Kyle had never used a bunch of hair gel and spray on them.
Who came through was a guard, pushing the door with his back and pulling a wheelchair with him inside. The person sitting had his ankles tied to the wheelchair and no way of moving.
His personal warden moved the chair Stan and Kenny were sitting on before and positioned Eric on the same spot…
He noticed an almost wavy, light chestnut hair, surprisingly kept in a good shape, even before his wheelchair was turned around, his posture being perfectly straight and calm. It made him look like a doll in it.
But Kyle wasn't looking at that for long. Or at the preparations the guard was doing. No, Kyle's eyes were dead set on Eric's.
A doll couldn't possibly have a glare as soul-striking as his.
Maybe it was because Kyle's small dream came true now that he was here, with one of the most fascinating killers of all time.
It felt as if blinking was a waste of time and he might miss something on Eric's face! But partly, he felt subconsciously compelled to keep looking. As if this silent, almost bored gaze could give him all the answers he needed…
He was lucky he was a doctor who was well aware of Eric's influences. In theory at least.
And he was lucky it was enough to help his dazed mind pull away from Cartman's eyes. They weren't special in any sense. Dark, chocolate-like colour with no specks of any other colour ruining it. A pretty average and common colour. Yet the way they shined and looked at… Through you, as if you were made of glass, could truly shatter you like one.
Then he caught another one of his thoughts, not only weirded out but grossed out by it as well.
'He's actually good looking.' This wasn't about actual physical attraction. Gods, no, Kyle rarely felt those and a serial killer was the least suitable spouse.
But he was definitely shocked to see an objectively good looking… 'Who the fuck am I kidding.' An actually charming looking person across his desk. And he couldn't even see half of his face. All the serial killers Kyle had records of always looked the part. There was a certain aura, certain face features that simply talked 'I did something evil.' There was no pretty with them.
Eric, however, has high cheekbones. A straight nose, just a bit dropped eyelids, forever appearing bored, and an ever so slightly cat eyes, if you really focused on that detail. He isn't perfectly handsome like out of a magazine but his face is proportionate, symmetrical and each part complemented the other, making it so appealing.
Well… Perfect enough that Kyle couldn't help but wrinkle his nose just a tiny bit, painfully self-aware of the hook-like feature he had in the middle of his face. His mother was to blame for that one.
He got lost in his lack of self-esteem surrounding the unimportant feature that he didn't notice his patient writing and pushing a tablet towards Kyle.
"It is bothering you, isn't it? That you were born with such an obvious flaw. One that not only is there all the time but is seen by everyone all the time." Were Eric's first letters.
Kyle's eyes met his patient's yet again and he felt shivers down his spine. A wave of sudden anger filled him, both hating the fact he let himself show emotion and despising the fact Eric was giving him genuine pity. But the earlier pause was helpful and the composure he practised so well for years was back on like an invisibility cloak.
But he still showed a reaction for the world's best manipulator. And that meant he was already loosing.
Only now, minutes after Eric had already come in, did Kyle notice his outer state. The young man was sitting in white robes as the rest… With a leather muzzle over his mouth, locked behind his head and there to prevent him from talking. It kept his jaws almost completely joined and Kyle would have to guess breathing was hard even if the nose wasn't covered and there were breathing holes on the mask.
It served its purpose. And it prevented him from getting enough oxygen for a fight.
But not only was he not allowed to breathe, but his left arm was also tightly strapped to his waist, inside a muff. His right arm was partly free, with a wrist chained to the metal ring that stuck out of the table.
Kyle was told that Eric was mostly in a straight jacket and this state, where he could only use his right hand a bit to type onto the tablet, looked like it was almost comfortable.
'Was it really necessary to limit him this much?' But then he remembered how easily he exploited the smallest reaction Kyle gave in a matter of seconds. And all feelings of pity simply disappeared.
"I am Doctor Kyle Broflovski. It's nice to meet you, Eric." But the moment he finished with his sentence, Eric was already making clinking sounds with his cuffs. He was surprisingly cautious with it, trying not to make too much noise as he pulled the tablet back to himself.
Kyle was a patient person… But he felt this deal with the tablet and waiting for a response won't work in future. It will take too much time, especially since he is using one hand only to write, and it meant he had time to process and properly think of what to say. Which ultimately lead to him having time to think and lie without being noticed.
Tablet was pushed towards him. "No. Eric is a name that sounds too princely. And I am a King."
Kyle was definitely sure he wasn't supposed to snort. So he didn't. But God help him, he so wanted to. He was tempted to simply continue using his name. But it might anger, or even dissuade him from cooperation.
"Alright, I assume then Cartman is fine with you?" Kyle offered a stiff smile as an olive branch between them.
He saw him softly shrugging and typing. "I guess it's tolerable."
For now, Kyle saw that as progress as another set of words was sent his way.
"Aren't you too young to be here?" Kyle predicted this one. He didn't know in which form it'd come, but he knew Eric would try and agitate him.
And all Kyle could do was offer another polite smile like a good little psychiatrist… Although all he wanted was to show off how he figured Eri-, Cartman out.
"Tell me, Cartman, is it true you've never raised your hand on anyone?" The best way, when manipulated and pushed to react, is to ignore and push your own agenda onto the patient. Establishing domination in this kind of doctor-patient relationship.
Brunette took a moment to stare at Kyle and then pulled the tablet back to himself… This time the message would be definitely longer, taking from how much time he took to write this piece. Enough for Kyle to take a glance himself.
When caught, three years ago, he was reported of being slightly overweight, yet to the redhead, he now seemed… Skinny. As someone who was raised to help everyone, of course, so he could gain respect and recognition from others, it stuck to him that this kind of thing, major loss of weight, wasn't fine. It's not that he simply lost weight, but his cheeks were dried up, with bones and jawline forming a very specific shape… And Kyle could even see the collar bone sickly sticking out from his white shirt. It was safe to assume his ribs would be painfully visible as well.
His thoughts abruptly interrupted by the sounds of handcuffs and he looked at the words written down.
"I lost my sense for the time. But I think it was five, six years ago? That fate wanted me to meet a quiet, shy young man. It was a bright, slightly chilly autumn night, and there was no one around us. It was truly magical how his gingery locks reflected the moonlight as if his hair were waves." Kyle felt his stomach turning at the word 'ginger', catching on to what the point of this little story was but showed no reaction whatsoever.
"And so I was kind enough to give ginger some attention and took him to dinner. I know how alone and discarded from the society they are." Kyle knew there was a part of sentence there missing. Cartman probably thought it'd be less obvious what his point is if he didn't write down 'you can understand, can't you Kyle?'
"After it, I made sure we had fun. I showed him how beautiful the world truly is. Then after that, I took the ginger under the bridge and we talked a bit. It's a shame I can't even remember his name anymore, and he was such a light-hearted person. So kind, he simply wouldn't survive in this world. I told him that because I wanted to be absolutely honest with him and make sure he knows that no one could love a person like him. A soulless ginger." Kyle wanted to say a lot now while his eyebrows were already twitching… But he showed no reaction and didn't dare to take a pause as to show Cartman he was affected by this… But his legs were taking all of the blame, unable to relax and shaking, but not making any sound.
"I saved him. I made him into a piece of art. With God's help, I made him realize what an abomination he was and he thought of a smart decision. He should get the world rid off of one ginger too many. I stood there and watched, thanked him for his sacrifice as he kept cutting himself. I showed him how to do it shallowly enough to drip for hours. And of course, I stayed there with him until the pool of blood fed the soil underneath him. The shade looked amazing against his locks, especially once the ends were coloured by it. Blood brought out his charm. It always does."
Kyle only lifted his gaze once done with the small fairy tale and locked gazes with the storyteller. A lunatic who was bored out of his mind and needed amusement.
It wasn't the graphic violence or the action itself that horrified him. It was Eric's pure belief that what he's done was… Good. Just.
He knew that by the words used in the text and the slight change in his expression as corners of his mouth lifted after Kyle looked away from the text.
"Oh… Well, Cartman, how did that make you feel?" Kyle couldn't have gone with the more basic question even if he tried. And Eric didn't give off any stronger reaction than a small frown as he took the tablet.
"Of all the boring questions you could've thought of, this is the one you ask? I thought you'd be one of the more interesting guys they sent, doctor. At least others had proper questions."
Kyle felt his jaw clench just a tiny bit, but he let out a sigh and seriously looked at his patient. "I am not here to entertain you, Cartman. So go ahead, answer, please?"
Kyle heard a soft groan through the muzzle and his eyes rolled away before he proceeded to reply.
"It made me realize that the world had one ginger less, and that's a success itself." A quick reply made Kyle realize Cartman really did pride himself on his killings without reluctance. It was a short time, but Cartman didn't mention his feelings once. Not in a normal sense at least. It was just pride and his achievements.
'A narcissistic behaviour indeed.' Kyle noted it down.
He was thinking of his next question but Cartman was already writing something down.
"How about you, doc? How did it make you feel when you realized you were sick and could never get healed. I'm talking of course about your gingervitis. It is seriously hard to live with it, I bet." Kyle felt his brow twitch once again but he didn't let Cartman get to him just like that. Sure, he felt like saying 'fuck off', but the 'most dangerous person in the world' sounded like a bully trying to annoy him…
Just what was Kyle afraid of? That he would get succumbed into this or some shit. This was child's play when he was well aware of the games Cartman was playing. It was like college all over again.
And Kyle felt disappointment seeping into his heart and tangling around it, making him wish for things that weren't allowed. Kyle wanted to poke back.
"I was happy to know I am a part of a special group, there is only two per cent of us in the whole world." He simply offered back a proud smile and waited for a reply.
"Ah, a minority yes. The worst kind." Kyle was seriously wondering where was the fear he instilled into people. Where was the tension?
And why the fuck was he so soul-shattered at the fact he didn't get his fix from Eric Cartman… It was disturbingly easy to keep himself calm and controlled.
"Really now, can't we talk like grownups? I didn't take you for a school bully, Cartman." Another, softly disappointing sigh. His legs had stopped shaking a long time ago and his shoulders almost slouched from the relaxation… Or well boredom. The scariest thing right now was the possibility of himself yawning in the middle of the session.
His mind was getting too relaxed, as he realized his words were said with a slightly playful tone.
"A school bully? No that's not cool enough. I'd rather be a dictator." Kyle wasn't surprised by this proclamation. It was a quite expected thing to hear from an egoistic person.
"Why so? Of course, the answer is obvious, but do you not have enough power?" Recognizing… Or worse yet, supporting the power a person like Eric Cartman has was one of the worst mistakes Kyle could've blurted out. Recognition gave them strength, attention. It was just a simple sentence where Kyle wanted to continue the conversation with his patient… But for someone like Eric, it wasn't so simple, especially coming from someone who is supposed to change him, break him apart and reform him.
Where the fuck and better yet when the fuck did he lose his filter?!
The fact Eric ignored his little misstep was degrading. Like he was expecting it right there.
Kyle bit his lip on the inside to remind himself what was his fucking job here and how he should behave.
"To get rid of all the Jews." That was Eric's answer. And Kyle felt like a lid was plugged open.
'He couldn't have known?! Right? There is no way he could've guessed something so vague from literally nothing!' So how come his heart was louder?
Kyle masked his deep inhale as a pitied one rather than to show he was stressed and needed to take a breath to calm his mind.
"Well then, luckily for us, all the dictators end up dead." The saltiness was the last thing he should've done… But he had a theory to test. And the enjoyment and confidence he got from that small retaliation made him feel in control again.
He followed his words with a smirk. One that was supposed to be free of any malice… Except it wasn't.
He took his stance again and returned the stoic expression.
"Cartman, did your victims have some kind of a trigger or a feature that made you hurt them?"
"One day, Kyle, I will get to you too." Words followed by a genuinely warm, twisted, but almost beautiful smile. He found it disturbingly innocent.
The spark he felt from before. It was softly tickling his insides, returning and making him giddy. Kyle locked his gaze with Cartman's. Glistening eyes looked back at Kyle and he took the tablet.
"I'll look forward to your attempts, Eric."
It was wrong on so many levels. The doctor picked up the thrown ball… And threw it back. He joined in on the game… One where you can't just turn back and walk away from it. And he baited him to bite back.
There was no reluctance in him when he returned the tablet to Eric and saw his eyebrows softening at Kyle's response, eyes flickering for a moment.
It was Eric's time to feel the same spark. Joining their gazes, both glistening with weird anticipation.
Eric finally had his answer.
"Biting lips, rubbing fingertips, twitching eyebrows, scratching your wrists. Kyle, what kind of darkness are you trying to hold back from me?"
Kyle read it as slow as possible. Each tick Eric noticed… Kyle didn't. He was so focused on how to trick Cartman. On how to appear relaxed and numb to his advances… He didn't realize how his stress materialized.
All this time he thought they were trying to outdo each other… But Cartman was exploiting, tracing parts of the redhead he didn't control. And Kyle thought he had all of them under control.
Fuck fear. He was fucking terrified by Eric Cartman.
At least Kyle finally had his suspicion answered around his patient's 'simplicity'.
Eric Cartman had always been two steps ahead. From the very start.