DEVIANT HEARTS| HEESEUNG

14-Playing Detectives

A chill caresses my skin, prompting me to release my hair band that was decorated with my favorite little daisies. I finally allowed my hair to breathe and gave it a vigorous shake to conceal my neck. Looking down at my hairband, I couldn't help but ask my stupid lonely question- When will I have a man bringing me my favorite flowers?

And fuck- I'm lonely.

I need someone who will break this loneliness of me that ages like wine- but I don't want him.

The memory of my last session with Heeseung has revisited me numerous times, and each time my analysis and dissection are getting me into a mind-storm— but the sensations, the emotions he stirred, the yearning for him are getting me to fear myself.

For the first time in my life, I feel something fearful inside of me.

he made me this way- his case is making me fear the unknown feelings he stirred inside of me.

I had yielded to Heeseung's desires— One can never provide their patient with everything they crave, regardless of the alignment between those desires and one's own. In fact, such alignment makes it even more treacherous. It transcends danger; it violates ethical boundaries. His boundaries- and mine.

And yet, the memory of his rough hands on my skin persists. I close my eyes, allowing the memory to engulf me before I stifle it briefly. Inhaling deeply, I draw in the revitalizing essence of the park that stands in front of the building where my personal office is. The bird calls fade, leaving an abrupt hush in the aviary. The stillness envelops my senses, alerting me to the fact that I am not alone.

I turn around. "Are you following me, Detective...?"

Draped in a black trench coat over a budget suit, the slightly portly man is readily identifiable as a police officer. Growing up under the guidance of the town sheriff has endowed me with an ability to discern such figures. His smug expression corroborates my assumption. "Zane. Detective Zane," he introduces himself. "I wanted us to talk privately is that possible?"

"Feel free to share whatever you have to say at my office during business hours." I just wanted some air, not a freaking detective to talk to.

"I wanted to show you some important reports relating to his murder." Curiosity gets the better of her, again. I took the folder before opening it as he approached me.

"You're not the first therapist he's abused." I looked at him suspiciously, "I am aware it was Anna right?"

"Yes."

I flip to the next page and scan the victim's profile. "This is the files relating to Mariam Ibaline." Zane said as I flipped the picture of the papers in front of her, "I've already seen those reports." her dead eyes stared into the camera, blank and vacant. "He had killed her with a drag with a knife and the knife is not found. we had found some new information about this woman."

"tell."

"She works as a prostitute- an escort- who gets paid to have sex with her clients. She was some gold-escort, paid and chosen by billionaires." I looked again at the pictures in front of her, all were crimson and sinful. Why would he want them when he suffers from Haphephobia?

Then a thought occurs. "Where did the images come from? Were they taken at the scene?"

Detective Zane's brow furrows. "I show you pictures of a murder and the only question you ask is this?"

I close the folder. "You are to convince me that Lee Heeseung has called for this escort to have fun with her, and then he killed her like the sadist he was. right?' I concluded while giving him the stupidest looks. "And you want me to not stand in his trial. Am I wrong Mr. Zane?"

He squares his shoulders. "I've read up on you, Dr. West. I know how you work. I know that if you stand before that jury and spill some psychobabble about Heeseung's mental health or that he had some childhood trauma, then he will get out of the death penalty."

Who said anything about childhood?

A detective my ass- with a tongue slipping.

I angle my head away as he blazes up and releases a smoky exhale. "We all know that he was caught during this murder murders. He admitted himself and stayed silent. I ignored the fact that Heeseung told me that he enjoyed his murder and killing slowly- but then again, how the fuck did kill slowly while this victim was killed with a dagger- on a single hit straight to the heart.

I won't go on trial declaring his innocence. I enjoy watching the way the detective's eye tics at the thought.

"Send me those through my email Mr. Smith." I voiced making him nod his head.

"Thank you." I start to leave, feeling this is a proper place to end the discussion, but he snags the arm of my coat to halt me.

"He a menace Miss West."

I scoff.

"I beg your pardon?" Zane interjects.

"I value your convictions in this case," I recover, "but having an expert claim that Heeseung would be a menace in prison? Mr. Zane, with all due respect, has spent over a year in prison without any disciplinary incidents other than violating his last therapist- which we don't have any proof related to that incident. He's been a model inmate."

The lawyer clears his throat. "And what about Yoovan?" A pause. "He is not that model..." Regardless of my sentiments, professionally speaking, having a patient on death row is an immense burden for any physician to shoulder. The gravity of Heeseung's trial rests upon my shoulders; his life hangs in the balance. This second attempt by the prosecution to sway me underscores that fact. Even the Attorney General himself ensured Heeseung's execution, the scales of justice tilted unfavorably for him.

"I hope that once you've reviewed the evidence, you'll know the right thing to do."

With an assertive motion, I disentangle myself from his proximity and fold my arms across my chest, a protective stance. "Detective," I address him, my tone resolute, "the right course of action, the moral obligation, lies within my professional responsibilities. No force, no influence will stop me from delivering my testimony in the courtroom."

He raises his hands, palms out as if to quell any escalating tension. "Doctor, there's no threat intended here. We're all aligned in the pursuit of justice, aren't we? Working together for the sake of the victims?" The smoldering end of his cigarette meets the pavement, extinguished by the toe of his boot.

A mirthless chuckle escapes me, a sound devoid of amusement. "Desiring justice for the victims doesn't grant us a license to resort to extremes, detective. I wish you to communicate with me in my office for any further inquiries." And he left.

I was not one to be easily rattled. And never will be.

Throughout my career, she's encountered far more obstinate law enforcement officials against forces. I repeat to myself that I was caught off-guard, unprepared for the sudden intrusion. I closed the door of my office after  I let myself in. Seeking anything other than Fear. They need my statement to be I guess I will just spend the night here checking some reports of my clients before I got assigned to be the psycho-therapist at the EDX. I was unhappy with my conversation with the shitty detective- but then again, it's better to be unhappy and know the worst than to be happy in a fool's paradise. 

(_　_)。゜zｚＺ