Sinful Desires

Medicated Silence

Isaiahs pov:

I rested my head against the wall, trying to block out Robinson's incessant chatter about the girl he brought in. "She's this" and "she's that." I couldn't care less about her. I honestly don't even know why she's here. She'll end up like the others, just not decapitated—she has such a beautiful face. After what happened the last time she was here, I'm forced to take antipsychotic medication to reduce my aggression. It's something I struggle with, and it's the reason I lashed out at her harder than ever before.

DING!

I looked up to see who had entered the cell. Isamaila was accompanied by two bodyguards. Robinson wasn't there, which was odd since he was supposed to be the one to administer my medication. One of the bodyguards slammed the door behind him and moved to stand in front of Isamaila. The second one held a paper bag with my name on it. "What's that?" I asked, eyeing the bag before looking back 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 Isamaila? 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, rising to my feet.
"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," Isamaila said. One of the bodyguards stepped out of the cell for a few minutes and returned with a water bottle that looked disgustingly warm. "Here," he said, tossing it to me. I took a few sips, then swallowed the pill.

The tablet was small, but it tasted awful. "How long will it take for it to work?" the Isamaila 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?" one of the bodyguards asked. I didn't respond. I felt elevated; the pill always gave me this high feeling, as if I were on another planet. "Hello? Are you deaf?" I grumbled, leaning forward to look at Isamaila. "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 replied. "Who said I won't?" Suddenly, the door opened, and Robinson stepped in. "Excuse my tardiness; I was handling something," he explained. "What made you want to come here? Have you missed me?" I asked.

"Like hell!" Robinson 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 replied. "Okay, so he should be calm right now," Robinson said. "What's 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 continued.

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 5 minutes," Robinson explained as he unlocked the door. The two guards followed him out. After they left, the room became quiet. Too quiet. Isamaila let out a sigh and straightened up. "I believe we got off on the wrong foot," she said with a laugh. "And we both know we have to do this, so why bother arguing?" I furrowed my brow, eyeing her. "What do you mean by 'we'? I don't want to do this," I said.

"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'm 23 years old. I've 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've already shown what type of person you are," Isamaila said. "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 entered along with the two other bodyguards. "This concludes our session for today. We'll see you next week," he added, directing his words to Isamaila. "Why next week?" I asked, crossing my arms. "Don't worry about it," Robinson replied as he escorted Isamaila out. "Lights out, bitch," one of the bodyguards said as he flicked off the light. I looked down at the handcuffs.

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