robbing the cradle

PROLOGUE

"So, you think you don't need any help?" The woman in the blue suit, whom the Supreme Court assigned as my psychiatrist, asked me as she sat comfortably behind her desk, iPad in hand as she vigorously pressed her pale, wrinkled fingers against the touch screen. My best guess was that she was taking notes, but for all I knew she could've been playing Temple Run, Angry Birds, or one of those other dumbass games people constantly indulged themselves in.

After a few minutes of silence, she placed the device in her lap and focused her full attention upon me. Feeling her stare made my blood boil. But I maintained a cool composure as I raised my head from the ground, my light brown eyes connecting with her dark grey orbs as I rested my palms against my stomach, intertwining my fingers in the process. "No." I finally answered, exhaling deeply and averting my gaze toward the huge glass window behind her. The birds I saw soaring across the light blue sky made me feel at ease, even if it was only for a second. They just looked so...free. "And why is that?" She pried whilst crossing her legs in the classiest way she could in her pencil skirt.

"No disrespect, doctor," I said, fixating my attention upon her, habitually licking my lips and adjusting the position I sat in on the cushioned patient chair. "But there's nothing you can do or say that will make me regret my decision. Honestly, what I did wasn't even that bad." Her eyes widened as she picked up her iPad once more, typing down more notes I suppose. "So murdering people isn't that bad?" A chuckle subconsciously escaped my lips at her rhetoric. God, I'm more insane than I thought.

"You know, doc -- I think about all of the other people out in this world, especially the murderers. And I thought to myself, once," As I said this, I retrieved the half-smoked Newport cigarette from the crevice of my right ear and placed it in the corner of my lips before igniting the edge of it with a blue BIC lighter that I retrieved from my jean pocket. "You know you're not supposed to smoke in here." she stated, which I obviously knew. What should've been obvious to her is that I don't follow the rules. That's why I'm in this situation now.

"Yeah, I know." I retorted as I blew smoke toward her and let ashes fall onto the carpeted floor, the cancerous substance dangling between the index and middle fingers of my right hand. "As I was saying. There was once a time when I thought 'could I do murder?' And the only answer I could come up with was," I took another toke of the cigarette whilst peering into her fear-stricken irises. It wasn't hard to sense the combination of terror and anticipation swelling within her. My lips parted to reveal a smile as I uttered, "What's the difference?" More smoke and laughter filled the atmosphere, but it was in more of a hysterical manner than the last time. Several coughs exited my throat, and somehow I still managed to laugh through that. Eventually silence settled between us after I calmed my antics.

I dragged my lips against the cigarette again. "Give 'em up to the Almighty, you know? That is, if you believe in that shit. Now me," I spoke with a strained voice before relieving my lungs of the smoke wallowing in them, both sets of my fingers pressed against my chest animatedly. "I'on believe in that, personally. What I do believe is that death is inevitable for any and everything. Nevertheless...I don't feel remorse or feel as if I need some type of rehabilitation. So, you," I said, pointing directly at her with the same hand I held the cigarette with, ash falling as I did so. "And everyone else who thinks Marcus Onua Stevenson needs help can swallow my dick -- whole." I concluded whilst dragging from the Newport again and grabbing at the crotch of my jeans with my free hand.

"Now, if you don't mind, I have somewhere else to be." With nothing else for me to say, I dropped the cig onto the carpet before slipping my arms into the sleeves of my old TISA jacket and proceeded to exit the psychiatrist's office. "Marcus," she addressed me by my name for the first time in the session, "You know if you don't complete said sessions issued by the court, they'll put you back in the psych ward." Dr. Connor informed me as if I didn't know that already. There wasn't much I didn't know. That's the difference between me and the others that inhabited this world. I wasn't scared of knowing...or anything for that matter. Scoffing as I placed my left hand upon the doorknob and opened the door, I turned my head toward her and rudely countered, "Psych ward these nuts," Then exited the premises.