Psychologist's Journal: Entry 1

2.9K 86 34
                                    

This is slightly different from my traditional one-shots. I will not tell you what this male is or his actual name. Rather, it is up to you to try to figure out what inhuman creature he is as the story continues. There may also be another facet to this mystery as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

??? looked around the room with a blank gaze as if his pupils had been replaced by glass versions of themselves. The light brown color had faded deeply for some reason or another. Perhaps it was that which surrounded him. The muted color of the office prompted a feeling he had never known before. Dread encased him as if it were his own shadow, dragging him into his own fears. His parents had told him the procedure may be intense, but the only things he classified as belonging to such a category had to do with (Y/n)'s pain. He didn't like her pain. He didn't like it all.

Hollow footsteps rang in the room, the small brunette's eyes trailing over to the man approaching him. He was old, overly so. Perhaps old enough to get away with more than he ought to. The man seemed the type to harass and pursue after things that were never supposed to be his. ??? couldn't say where that feeling came from. It may have been the atmosphere he emitted or the sadistic look in his eyes.

The boy had been taught the differences between caring for another, dismissing them, or having hatred. It was a grueling process in which he had only had the realization after the (h/c) haired girl pointed it out to him, but he finally learned three separate emotions; most of which he knew not. At least, he had been told he didn't. Like a puppet on the string of the marionette, the boy simply accepted it as it was and reflected what he was taught to. He wasn't aware he could teach himself, just that others would instruct him on what to do.

"Hello there, ???," the man hummed, reading off of his clipboard as if he had been conditioned to it.

Yes, the boy knew conditioning well. It was what he experienced in the presence of others. The only difference between him and someone "normal" was that he couldn't absorb the marination of his mind. It was submerged in its own liquid; one that blocked out any and everyone from his private thoughts. They were hollow and pointless, usually only pertaining to tending to his needs in order to live. His head moved down as he contemplated that. After all, (Y/n) had said that there was more to life than living. What did she mean by that? Maybe that man was there to help him find out.

"My name is Doctor Alric."

A foreigner. The man was a foreigner. Was that how broken he was? His father had to bring in someone from overseas to assess him for imperfections. ??? felt like frowning. It was a facial expression that the younger girl possessed whenever something inopportune occurred to her. However, he felt as though he was not capable of making such an expression. Turning to look at himself in the mirror, the male poked his cheek, wondering how she could do it.

His lips moved just barely an inch as he attempted to perform the gesture but, no matter the effort or focus he applied, he came nowhere close to the (h/c) haired girl. It was disappointing to note yet another difference separating the two of them. Even if he disliked her pain, he enjoyed every expression she made. To think he wouldn't be able to copy her, his mind ceased to think entirely, his head falling to the side.

His platinum hair fell in front of his features, masking half of his face. It seemed appropriate perhaps to hide at least some part of himself in his failure. It was what everyone else did, wasn't it? He hummed, attempting to piece it all together while the doctor behind him wrote down something. The boy didn't care what it was. He didn't care about much of anything. Then again, he supposed that was the problem.

"Your father seems convinced there's something going on in that head of yours," the man chuckled, taking a seat in a leather chair, one of his elbows propped up on the armrest, "Would you like to help your father, ????"

Call Me Yours (Yandere x Reader Oneshots)Where stories live. Discover now