Second chance | Kurt Kunkle ✅

Chapter two: don't judge a book by the cover

The second appointment was right next day, sharp at three o'clock in the afternoon.

I had my Russian guy at my side when we were walking toward the special cells in the isolated part of the building. We had to go through multiple security checks, which made us talk to each other even if he was like 10 years older than me. He kinda reminded me of Tom Wlaschiha, a sexy German with top level royaltly.

"You know that everyone thinks you're crazy saving that spree driver guy, right?" he asked with a half-sided, alluring smile as we were waiting for other workers to identify themselves before us. He was leaning against the wall with such slack that couldn't be learned but ingerited, his muscular arms crossed in front of his chest.

I chuckled. "I'm a psychiatrist, Sergej. I can read from the way they're looking at me, ya know"

The man had to agree with that. "True. But why did you save him after all he did? Is it really for the science only?"

I knew he was clear about the answer. Still, he wanted to hear it from my own mouth, formed by my own tongue and teeth. Everyone knew that there was a little commiseration in the story, that's why they looked at me the way they did.

Handing the officer who was doing the ID check, I replied him, not even looking that way. "If you know the answer, why do you ask?"

Sergej shrugged once we were inside, his style a bit too hurt. Maybe my tone was a teeny-weeny too harsh. "Sorry if I was too eager, Marcy. I just don't believe in gossips... I wanted to hear the answer with my own ears"

I sighed. "It's okay. Now you know it"

With that, we both went quiet as we arrived at Special Room No. 2 – aka Kurt Kunkle's chamber, as others called it in the building. Taking out my keys I opened the lock, while Sergej was preparing his gun. From the way he did what he did, the way his bright blue gaze was searching for my emerald eyes, I felt that he wanted to say something more but didn't have the chance. I decided that I'll ask him later on.

As the door opened up with the same squeek, Kurt jerked up from probably a sleep. To my surprise, his gaze wasn't scared this time: he was rather interested by my visit.

"Good day, Kurt" I greeted him as I sat down beside him. I was reassured by the fact that he couldn't hurt me because of the handcuffs, so I dared to sit even closer.

Plus, I had Sergej watching beside the door, his gun ready to shot any time. He gave me a warm smile, making my heart beat with more delegation. I turned back to Kurt, who grabbed his gaze from me toward straight direction, acting as if he wasn't examining me.

"Which God can I thank your visit this time?" he asked with a hint of irony in his voice.

Clearly he wasn't a fan of being attached against the floor and forced to have chit-chat with a stranger. But eh, I didn't want to babysit a criminal but that's what fate gave me.

I didn't answer him right away. Rather I took out my notebook with my good old pen and my opened package of sugarfree salted caramel. Clicking my pen I made its tip pop out, one caramel in mouth.

Just before I could form my first question, a truly unexpected comment came out of Kurt's mouth – confirming how great examiner he really was. "Are you diabetic?"

I almost dropped my pen hearing this. I didn't have the slightest idea how he found it out and not misrecognised me with a diet for example. I couldn't resist my mouth falling down slightly. "I-I am. But how did you...?"

He pointed with his nose toward my bag. It was open, showing my sugar level measuring machine toward the outside world. Sneaky boy.

"My Mother had similar set. She was also diabetic" Kurt added out of the sudden. A hard gulp went down his throat. As our eyes met, he turned his gaze away, gazing the door rigidly. A deep sigh left his mouth. "Before I did what I did, she needed my help. She needed her insulin, but I didn't find it... she begged to help, then seeing it was too late for her, she begged me to help her cross the line more easily"