When Farid arrived at the prison, he began going to the therapy room as usual; however, this time, he was met with someone blocking his way.
"Hello, Warden," he greeted warmly.
"Hello, Doctor," the man returned. His expression seemed troubled and he glanced towards his office. "Before you begin today, could we talk privately?"
"Of course."
Farid followed Stoick into the office and observed as the warden shut the door, then sat down with a grave expression.
"How has the progress been with Dagur?" Stoick inquired. "Does he seem like he's improving yet?"
"It is a gradual process," the doctor reminded him. "That said, I believe we almost made a breakthrough yesterday."
"'Almost?' What prevented it from happening?"
Farid considered his words carefully as he continued. "It might have been poor time management on my part. I wasn't aware that there was a cell check yesterday."
Stoick crossed his arms and lifted one brow. "There wasn't."
The psychologist hid his confusion, but the warden did not need to be explicitly told what had happened in order to know. He sighed and brought a hand to his beard.
"Alvin has his concerns about what you're doing. He thinks skills such as yours could be better suited for other inmates."
Farid's features hardened slightly. "Would it be possible to assign a different correctional officer to bring Dagur?"
"I understand that Alvin can be vocal, but he's a good officer, Doctor."
"He has interfered with our treatment sessions since the first day. They have always either started late or ended early. Both have also occurred. I am sure that he is a trusted officer, but I think there is too much of a history between him and Dagur for the sessions to work properly."
"I'm not sure," Stoick admitted. "Perhaps the history between the two of them is what makes Alvin the perfect officer to assist with the sessions. He won't be in danger because he knows what to expect."
"But Dagur also won't speak freely because we barely have any time to speak at all." Farid could feel himself becoming frustrated and tried to remain logical in his reasoning. "I know that there are a lot of inmates here who could use help. I plan on providing them with that help, but with all of them, I need uninterrupted time. I've had that with all the other inmates except Dagur. Please correct me if I'm wrong, but you seem to think his sessions are a waste of time because they're not bringing in the same results as those with the others; however, he hasn't had the same opportunity to truly experience the sessions as the others have. They don't have to worry about someone entering while they're in the process of telling me something personal. They don't have to start the session twenty minutes or longer past the scheduled time and hope the few remaining minutes are allowed to be completed."
The older man turned contemplative and lowered his eyes to the desk. A moment passed with pure silence and Farid leaned forward.
"I can reach him, Warden," he said earnestly. "I just need the chance."
Stoick took a breath and brought his eyes up to the doctor. "Fine. I'll assign a different officer to that task. But," he added, having seen Farid's face become hopeful, "I need to hear some signs of progress–real progress–the next time we speak."
"I can do that."
Still appearing unsure about that being the case, Stoick contacted another CO, asking him to come to the office. Shortly, Gobber arrived. He smiled when he saw the psychologist and immediately knew what his new task was.
"Aye, I'll go get him," he said, hobbling out the room.
Farid was about to follow him, then stopped. "Thank you," he told the warden.
Stoick gave a nod of his head and Farid left. He and Gobber were headed towards the therapy room since the inmate's cell was in that direction. They walked side by side until they reached the first room. As they traveled, Gobber glanced at the visitor.
"I'm glad you're helping him," he said. "Tell ya the truth, I don't think he's as terrible as the others say. He's troubled, sure. No one with sanity would say he's got any. But even still, I've seen meaner guys come and go from this place. Not sure what there is between him and Alvin, but I've never had a problem."
When they arrived at the therapy room, Farid turned to Gobber. "I appreciate you saying that. It'll be good for Dagur to not constantly be surrounded by antagonism."
The officer smiled and went to get the prisoner. Farid entered the room and soon–extremely soon which was a pleasant change of pace–Gobber returned with Dagur. The inmate's face showed an energetic spirit. His handcuffs were removed and he excitedly sat down across from the psychologist. He gestured to the officer with both hands and a wide grin.
"Now there's someone who appreciates punctuality! Alvy's just rude."
Farid had a small smile on his face and turned to Gobber. "Thank you, Officer."
"No problem," Gobber returned, appearing satisfied.
When he closed the door, Dagur looked back at the doctor.
"Okay, how'd you manage that?" he asked, gesturing with his thumb towards the entrance. "Stoick and Alvin are bosom buddies. He wouldn't take him off this assignment just like that."
"I just had to explain how Alvin was interfering with our sessions."
Dagur laughed. "Straight to the point! Love it! No beating around the bush with you, huh?"
"Being indirect normally doesn't lead to the best results." Farid's demeanor changed to become more serious. "Which is why I'll level with you. The warden thinks these sessions are a waste of time. As of our last conversation, I wasn't able to honestly tell him we'd made a lot of progress. You've told me a little about what you remember regarding Hiccup and Fishlegs, but that's it. That's not enough, Dagur. That's not enough to say you're making significant changes for the better–to warrant these visits. I need to know you don't have to stay in solitary for everyone's safety. You're not alone here, Dagur. In addition to me, you've got Gobber and the Thorston twins rooting for you. They say hi by the way." This put a small smile on the inmate's face, but Farid's tone turned firm again. "I need to know you're not the same person the officers arrested for multiple charges of murder. Unless something changes today, this is our last session."
Dagur sighed softly and put a hand over his face. It was nice to not delve into things, but making the doctor's efforts be for nothing was something the young man had no intention of doing. If Farid was really going to give him a chance, he could at least give his all as well.
"I've known I wasn't…normal for about as long as I can remember," he admitted, lowering his hand to look at the psychologist. "My family is full of borin-calm-people. Very calm. I didn't fit in with them, so family reunions weren't something that happened often. Dad and Mom thought something was wrong before, but it was at one of them that they really knew."
"Do you remember what happened?"
"Yeah. Everyone was just talking to each other. There wasn't any music or games or anything else that actually would've been fun, so I got bored. I found all the other kids and had them make a piñata out of a wasp nest. They whined at first, but they were more scared of me than the wasps."
"Did anyone get hurt?"
"No, I wasn't going to let any of them get stung. I was fast. I'm still fast. It wasn't difficult for me to kill the little stingers before they got to them. I just wanted a challenge." Dagur stopped speaking and his eyes saddened. "We cracked open the nest, then filled it with wrapped candies and duct taped it back up. We Brought it to the main area, but we didn't even get to hit it before the adults figured out what it was. My dad immediately knew it was my idea. 'No one with a normally functioning mind would come up with such a stupid, deranged idea,'" the inmate said, imitating his father's voice. "That's what he screamed at the top of his lungs. Everyone started muttering about how I was crazy–that there was something wrong with me. Next time there was a family reunion, it was made clear that I wasn't invited. We didn't visit any relatives and none of them came to visit us. My mom and dad would leave sometimes to go spend time with them, but I had to stay behind. I was only family by blood, nothing else. I wasn't really one of them. Pretending otherwise would just have put everyone in danger.
"I liked pretending, though. When they'd go off and hang out with everyone, I'd stay and act like I was there with them. I'd come up with ideas for what they'd be doing and try to figure out what they'd say and how they would want me to respond. I thought of it as practice for when I was around everyone again since I didn't want to embarrass my parents like the last time. Whenever they were around, I still did something wrong. I either said or acted in some strange way that only made them more disturbed by me. I didn't let it stop me and I kept practicing so that they'd think I was normal." He paused and looked at the doorway. "But I was kidding myself. There wasn't any hope of anything changing. They never were going to even give me a chance to be better. It didn't matter how much I practiced being like everyone else. They'd never see me that way."
Farid morosely observed his client. "Did you ever consider therapy before?"
A sad chuckle came out of Dagur. "Yeah actually. There was a point in my life when I really wanted to talk to someone. Everything was just…wrong. I didn't want to stand out anymore. More than anything, I just wanted to blend in. You know, not draw attention for once. I asked my dad if I could talk to somebody, but he said it would only disgrace the family more if I did. He wondered why I couldn't be normal and just keep to myself. He got frustrated a lot." The prisoner started to frown and grit his teeth. "It's not like I didn't try! He just wanted me to wake up one morning and bam! Perfectly sane!" He began laughing, but he quickly stopped and glared at the table. "If it was that easy, I'd have done it." The glare began turning into a somber expression. "Maybe he wouldn't have hated me so much."
Farid regarded the client with empathy. "Do you remember any positive interactions with your parents? Your mother perhaps?"
Dagur scrunched his face as he tried to recall. "I don't really have many memories of just being around my mom. I have a sister who's only a year younger than I am, so she was normally with her. The only memory I do have didn't end well."
Farid blinked at the news of the sibling. Another thing not in the report. He temporarily pushed that to the back of his mind so that he would not get distracted.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Mom liked walking in the forest a lot. She and my dad used to have a place out there they'd go to when they were younger to get away from it all. She started to show me where it was to see if the extra walking would calm me down. As we kept going, we came across a rabid rat. It was about the size of a small dog. It lunged to attack her, but there was a sharp rock close to me, so I grabbed it and wrestled the rat to the ground. I wound up slitting its throat." Dagur reenacted what he had done, a satisfied smile appearing on his face. "I was proud of myself. That's what made me like knives so much. The idea of something sharp being used to fight and protect intrigued me."
"Why was this not a happy memory?"
Dagur's smile faded. "Because Mom didn't think it was such a good thing. She was disgusted by what I'd done. She told Dad and refused to be alone around me after that. My new hobby of knife sharpening and tricks only made that worse. It seemed like everything I did disappointed or terrified them. I just wasn't the type of son they wanted to have."
"Were there any good memories with your father?"
"I think he always knew something was wrong with me. I can't remember a single time he looked at me without having disgust or horror in his eyes." Dagur unhappily looked at the psychologist. "I don't know what exactly is wrong with me, Doc, but I'd be glad if you could get me to understand it some. I've been trying for almost my whole life."