Sinful Desires

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Isaiahs pov:

I was resting my head against the wall. Since Robinson brought that girl in, he's been talking about her nonstop. "She's this" and "she's that." I don't give a damn about her. I'm not really sure why she's here.

She'll end up like the other therapists I murdered, but not decapitated because she has such a beautiful face. Because of my actions the last time she was here, I have to take an antipsychotic medication, which is effective in reducing aggression.

Which is something I have, and it explains why I struck out at her more than ever before.

DING!

I looked up to see who had entered the cell. She was accompanied by two bodyguards. Robison did not show up, which was odd considering that he was supposed to be the one to administer my medication.

One of the bodyguards slammed the door behind him and moved in front of the girl. The second one carried a paper bag with my name on it. "What's that?" I asked as I gazed at the bag and then at the bodyguard.

"Your medication," the guard responded, tossing the bag at me. I opened the bag and removed the pill. "Am I not going to get water?" I asked. "Use the sink," the bodyguard said. I maintained a blank expression.

Is he trying to be funny? To impress that woman? If he is, he's doing an awful job. I mean, she doesn't seem fazed. "Funny," I said, "now hand me a water bottle before I split your skull open with my fingernails and drink your blood with this pill."

"Is that a threat?" one of the bodyguards asked. "No, it's a guarantee," I replied, arising. "Just give him a damn water bottle. I'd hate to stand here and watch him slit your throat open and drink your blood like water," the woman said.

One of the bodyguards left the cell for a few minutes and returned with a water bottle that looked warm. Revolting. "Here," he said, throwing the water bottle at me. I took a couple of sips of the water before swallowing the pill.

The tablet was small, but it tasted awful.

"How long will it take for it to work?" the woman asked. "Maybe a few minutes; it depends on how he is right now," the bodyguard said. I rested my head against the filthy wall, waiting for the tablet to take effect.

After a few minutes, I felt calmer. "Are you calm?" asked one of the bodyguards. I did not respond. I felt elevated; the pill always gave a sense that I was high for some reason. It made me feel like I was on another planet.

"Hello? Are you deaf?"

I grumbled as I leaned forward and looked at the woman. "Excuse me, what's your name again?" I asked. "Isamaila," she responded. "Well, however you pronounce that shit, shut the fuck up," I said.

"Show some respect," one of the guards said. "What does respect mean again?" I asked. "Just wait until Robinson hears about this," the other bodyguard said. "His bald headass won't do shit," I said.

"Who said I won't?"

Suddenly, the door opened, revealing Robinson entering. "Excuse my tardiness; I was handling something," Robinson explained. "What made you want to come here? Have you missed me?" I asked.

"Like hell!" Robison exclaimed as he turned to face Isamaila. "I'm sorry for being late, Isa. Did I miss anything?" Robinson asked. "He just took his pills," Isamaila said. "Okay, so he should be calm right now," Robinson said.

"What is the point of being here? To watch me take a pill?" I asked. "We're going back a few years into high school and doing introductions," Robinson went on to say. Isamaila and I both frowned. "Introductions? I don't know her and don't want to," I said.

"Well, she's going to be your psychiatrist, and she needs to know things about you," Robinson explained. I groaned, tossing my head back. "So we'll leave you two alone, but not completely. We'll be outside," Robinson said.

"I thought we had an agreement?" Isamaila asked, folding her arms. "Yes, I understand. However, he took his pills, so his aggression is limited. We will keep him in handcuffs," Robinson explained as one of the guards approached me.

He took my wrist and handcuffed it to a pole.

"Besides, it'll only be for five minutes," Robinson explained as he unlocked the door. The two guards followed him. After they went, the room became quiet. Too quiet. Isamaila let out a sigh and straightened up straight.

"I believe we had gotten on the wrong foot," Isamaila said with a laugh, "and we both know we have to do this, so why even bother arguing?" I furrowed my brow as I looked at her. "What do you mean by 'we?' I don't want to do this," I explained.

"We don't have a choice, so you're going to have to deal with it. I'll start. My name is Isamaila Mae, and I am 23 years old. I have been a successful psychiatrist for almost four years," Isamaila explained. "Eh, I don't care," I said.

"Well, I don't need to know much about you when you have already shown what type of person you are," Isamaila went on to say. "Really? So, what type of person am I? I asked. "A vicious, stone-cold killer--"

"Okay, hopefully the both of you have gotten to know each other well," Robinson said as he came inside along with the two other bodyguards, "this concludes our session for today, we will see you next week," Robinson said to Isamaila. 

"Why next week?" I asked as I crossed my arms. "Don't worry about it," Robinson said as he escorted Isamaila out. "Lights out, bitch," one of the bodyguards said as he flicked off the light. I looked down and saw that the handcuffs.

"Those son of a bitches are dead," I muttered.