Kickoff written by Ashmlin11


Dont ask questions you dont want the answer to.

I tried not to look at any of my patients as if they were crazy, but this guy actually scared me. It was like he was in my head. I've dealt with an array of people with many different disorders, but he was the first to get to me.

He gazed lifelessly into my eyes. He wouldn't look away when he talked to me. Usually, when someone looks in your eyes, its comforting, bonding. Not him. He was terrifying.

"You don't like me." he said.

"That isn't true." I lied. "I just need to figure out what kind of help you need, and you're a bit hard to read."

"You're lying." he said with a tight smile.

A chill went down my spine. I've never dealt with someone like him before. It was like the devil himself was sitting in my office, lounging in my chair. I wanted to clean it.

This didn't seem to bother him. One foot was up on the chaises, the other was on the ground. He picked at his teeth and grimaced when I asked question. I didn't want to ask any more questions.

"You know she wanted it, right?"
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he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"She asked me to do it."

"She asked you to kill her?"

"Yes!" he snapped. "I loved my sister. I would never hurt her. She wanted me to take her pain away."

This guy was nuts. There's no way someone would want to just die. Suicide was one thing. Family problems, stress, trauma, those were all things people would want to take their life over. Someone with a perfect life and no health issues doesn't just ask someone to kill them.

"I'm not pleading insanity, you know. I'm not insane." he said.

"Then what are you?"

"I'm human." He was dead serious when he said it.

I had to try with my might to keep my face from scrunching in disgust. Instead, I asked, "What pain did your sister have?"

He laughed and sneered at me. "You think you can figure me out, hu? You think your psychology degree makes you superman? Let me ask you something.
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Do you know what its like to be hungry? Not hungry like you missed lunch, hungry like you haven't eaten anything but some crackers in two weeks."

He didn't yell, which terrified me. I didn't answer.

"Our lives weren't perfect. Yeah, our parents were loaded, but money cant buy love. The only reason they kept us was so they had slaves." He looked at me when he said it. "I bet you didn't know that, did you?"

"Care to share?"

"You bet. They kept us upstairs all the time. Our meals were brought to us by the servants, once a day. If we were lucky. We were home schooled. We weren't allowed outside because someone might see us. We saw our parents once a month, maybe. But my sister, she saw our father a lot more." He sent a glance in my direction. I knew exactly what he meant.

"When I turned eighteen, my parents sent me out. They bought me an apartment, paid all my bills for a year and never talked to me again. Not that they did much talking anyway. But my sister was still there. I had no
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contact with her for two years. When she turned eighteen, they sent her out too. When she tracked me down, she told me all the disgusting things they did to her. I couldn't let them get away with it."

"So you killed them."

"No. I made them suffer. Then I left them for dead."

"You said you didn't hurt anyone who didn't want to be hurt."

"This was my only exception. But I was messy. They came after me."

"So your sister. How did she deal with it?"

"We lived together for three years. She had nightmares about our father. I tried to help her the best I could, but I'm no psychiatrist." He laughed at himself. "She didn't like me talking to the cops about what I did. She said she couldn't live without me. I worried about what would happen to her if I went to prison. Then one day she said she couldn't take it anymore. She asked me to help her. I didn't know what to say or do." He paused, obviously in pain.

"So you helped her?" I asked gently.

"No." He said flatly. "I left town. The last time I saw my sister, she was alive."
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