DEVIANT HEARTS| HEESEUNG

16-OLD DRAMAS

ATHENA

I sat in the monitor room, my eyes fixed on the grainy CCTV old footage of Heeseung's therapy sessions with his previous therapists. Dr. Sunghoon, a compassionate and dedicated psychiatrist, had been determined to help Heeseung, but now his expression showed a sense of defeat.

"I've been searching for his emotions, but it's like he doesn't have any," Dr. Sunghoon confessed, his voice laced with frustration. I know that he cared deeply for all his young patients and was genuinely moved by their stories and struggles. We all should be.

I looked at Dr. Sunghoon, understanding the helplessness he felt. Their efforts to unlock Heeseung's emotions had yielded no results thus far. I spoke, my voice calm but tinged with empathy, "People can disconnect from their emotions for various reasons, sometimes as a survival mechanism. For some, like Heeseung, it becomes a habitual way of life, long after the danger has passed. We have to remember that, for them, emotions have been a source of pain and vulnerability."

Throughout Heeseung's therapy sessions, Dr. Sunghoon repeatedly asked him about his feelings, seeking any emotional response. However, Heeseung would often deflect, recounting practical details rather than delving into the depths of his emotions. It was as if he had built an impenetrable wall around his feelings.

"I believe Heeseung's physical chest pain is a manifestation of the emotional pain he keeps locked inside," Dr. Sunghoon shared, his voice tinged with guilt. "I even tried using a list of feeling adjectives, inviting him to point to the word that best described what he was experiencing but he doesn't feel any."

I listened attentively, my mind racing with thoughts on how to break through Heeseung's emotional barriers. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I refused to give up. I spoke with conviction, "Reconnecting with emotions takes time. We can only create a safe space for Heeseung to express himself when he's ready. What's important is that he wants to heal, even if he's afraid of getting hurt. We need to find an alternative approach, one that doesn't involve the damaging injections he's been receiving."

Dr. Sunghoon cut in, concerned, "But the injections are the only way to keep him calm and prevent potential outbursts."

I held his gaze firmly, my voice unwavering. "The injections the facility gives to the inmates are drugging their minds- in fact, we need their reactions, not their silence. We owe it to him to find a way, to offer therapy sessions that foster trust and allow him to reclaim his emotions. We have to stop the injections."

Dr. Sunghoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew that my determination was unwavering, and he couldn't deny the logic behind my words. Reluctantly, he nodded in agreement. "Alright, we'll stop the injections. But what if we can't control him? What if something goes wrong?"

"We have to try," I replied firmly, my eyes filled with conviction. "We need to believe in his capacity to heal and give him a chance. We'll work closely with the guards and take precautions, but we can't let fear dictate our actions."

"Do you still have his belongings from when he was caught, or do I need to contact the detective on the case?" I inquired.

Sunghoon started to respond but then shook his head, a mix of reluctance and concern evident in his eyes. "I'm afraid you don't know?"

I furrowed my brows. "What should I know?"

"Well, Heeseung wasn't caught. He was the one who called the police to arrest him," Sunghoon revealed, causing me to react with surprise. So he admitted himself?

"But that wasn't mentioned in his file?" I complained, feeling frustrated by this new revelation.

"I know," Sunghoon sighed, his gaze falling to the floor.