Broken Hands

139. Psycho-path-Y

Alex sat in the psychiatrist's office, fingers loosely clasped together, but his knee bounced slightly. Damien sat beside him, still and composed as he always was. Across from them, Mr. Doe leaned back slightly in his chair, his fingers laced together on the desk in front of him. He looked calm, but there was something in his eyes—something that made Alex uneasy.

The psychiatrist exhaled slowly, scanning the notes on his desk. "I've prescribed medication for the pain and to help regulate his sleep, but there's something else we need to discuss."

Alex straightened, exchanging a glance with Damien, who remained impassive.

Mr. Doe continued, "I had another session with Grayson today, to confirm my claims. He talked." He paused, tilting his head slightly with his fingers gathered together. "Or rather, he recounted like it was a grocery list. With a detachment that was so visible. No hesitation, no reaction. I asked about the pain, about the injuries, the trauma—he spoke about it like it was nothing. Like it didn't happen to him or anybody he knew."

Alex's throat tightened.

"I want to understand better," Mr. Doe went on, his tone careful. "Grayson mentioned a few things about his past, but I want to know what really happened, a case of abduction or abandonment." He glanced at Alex, waiting.

Alex inhaled sharply, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice was steady, but there was something raw beneath it. "Grayson was severely abused growing up. Physically, emotionally... and sexually." He barely got the word out. "He's been in therapy before. He was on medication, and his therapist assured me he was doing fine."

Mr. Doe nodded, his expression unreadable, but his pen tapped slowly against the notebook.

"What's wrong?" Damien's voice cut through the room—low, steady, already sensing the uneasiness.

Alex's jaw tensed. He wanted to say nothing. Wanted to believe that Grayson had been healing, that the therapy, the structure, the support had been enough. But the truth was... he wasn't sure if the structure wasn't down after the abduction.

Mr. Doe exhaled, sitting forward slightly. "What Grayson experienced recently—the abduction, the torture, nearly losing his cousin—it was too much for him. Trauma isn't just about the event itself. It's about the brain's response. And his response..." He hesitated. "Was to shut down."

Alex was on edge.

"That's normal for trauma victims," Mr. Doe continued, watching their reactions. "Especially those with a history like Grayson's. When the mind reaches its threshold, it numbs itself as a survival mechanism."

"So... what?" Alex pressed, voice tight. "You're saying this is temporary?"

The psychiatrist hesitated. "Sometimes, yes. With therapy, medication, and the right environment, many people recover. But ..." He trailed off for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Others don't."

A tense silence stretched in the room.

Alex's heart pounded. "What do you mean by don't?"

Mr. Doe's eyes rested on Alex. "Some people never regain their ability to feel. Let's put it that way. They stop experiencing empathy the way they should. They become... cold." He let out a slow breath. "In extreme cases, it leads to psychopathy."

Alex's stomach twisted. His mind flashed back to Grayson—his blank expression, the monotonous way he responded, the way he barely reacted to his own suffering.

Damien, still silent, remained motionless. He was listening, but his face betrayed nothing.

Mr. Doe continued, "When you push a machine too hard, it breaks, the human mind is like that too, even if it has a large capacity to bear, but it has a limit and when the limit is attained, we have broken minds. Grayson needs intensive therapy. And more than that, he needs people. Isolation will only reinforce this detachment. He needs siblings, friends, a pet—anything to keep his emotions engaged."

Alex swallowed hard, nodding. "Alright, will it help?"

The psychiatrist's gaze was firm. "Yes. And his empathy should be constantly tested. He needs to feel something. To remember what it's like to care before that part of him fades entirely."

Alex's voice was hoarse. "How do you know? How did you come to this analysis?"

Mr. Doe's expression didn't waver. "Because he narrated everything. Everything that happened to him, everything he went through... and he didn't flinch. No fear. No sadness. No anger. Nothing." He sighed. "It's not normal. And it's dangerous."

Alex exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. His mind was racing. Grayson—a psychopath? No. That wasn't possible. Not his Grayson. Not the same kid who used to be so damn stubborn about helping people, even when he pretended he didn't care.

Damien, still composed, finally leaned forward, fixing Mr. Doe with a steady look. "You're telling us that if we don't act now, we could lose him. Permanently."

The psychiatrist didn't blink. "Yes."

Alex shook his head. "That's not—he's not like that. He cares, okay? He does. I've seen it."

Mr. Doe nodded, but his voice remained even. "I don't doubt that, Mr. Smith. But the issue isn't whether he used to. It's whether he still can."

Alex bit back a bitter sigh.

Damien's tone was calm but edged with something colder. "You said his empathy needs to be tested."

"Yes," Mr. Doe confirmed. "We need to engage him in situations where he's required to connect. He should be around people—people he cares about. If he has friends, family, even a pet, it'll help. But more importantly, his responses need to be observed. If he doesn't react when he should—when someone is hurt, when something tragic happens—then we know we have a deeper problem."

Alex's throat tightened. He looked away, staring at the certificates hanging on the psychiatrist's office wall. "And if we do have a deeper problem?"

Mr. Doe hesitated. "Then we look at more extreme measures. Rehabilitation, medication, intervention... but if the disconnect is permanent, there's only so much we can do."

Alex's fingers dug into his knee. "You're saying that if we don't fix this, Grayson could—what? Turn into someone who just doesn't care? Who could hurt people and feel nothing?"

Mr. Doe's expression didn't waver. "It's a possibility."

Alex exhaled harshly.

Damien, on the other hand, didn't flinch. His voice was measured. "Then what do you suggest?"

The psychiatrist leaned back in his chair. "Start small. Keep him engaged. Don't let him isolate himself. If he starts avoiding people, make him interact. Force him, if necessary." He sighed. "And if you see any signs of further detachment—no reaction to pain, no concern for others, increasing recklessness—find a rehab immediately."

Alex nodded stiffly, but his mind was a storm, "What if it's too late?"

The room fell silent.

Mr. Doe didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice was quiet but firm. "Then we prepare for the reality that the boy you knew... might not come back."

Alex's breath caught in his throat.

Damien's gaze remained unreadable, but the air between them felt heavier.

Alex finally spoke, his voice low. "That's not going to happen."

Mr. Doe watched him carefully. "I hope you're right."

A/N

Short 🫤😐🙂...