Don't Listen to Your Heart

Who Are Your Parents, Holden?

"Miss.Jordan? Sasha Jordan?" a male voice asks, I slowly glance up at him as he soon reaches the Reception's desk.

He's well-dressed, but not as those rich important kind of men, more like a cop.

"It's me. Can I help you?" I suddenly say as he soon turns to look at me,

"You're Sasha Jordan?" he asks, I nod.

"I'm detective John Lowe, I would like to ask you some questions" he quietly says ,

"About?" I ask with a questioning look glancing up at his eyes.

He has light big blue eyes contrasting with his dark black hair.

His sight is particulary deep, like an intruder that wants to kick your place's door down to get in and know what's hiding inside.

He's wearing a white shirt partially covered by a brownish leather jacket, black pants and black formal shoes.

"Dr.Hailey Hendrix" he says still looking deeply into my eyes,

"Wait, isn't Hailey a female name?" I ask with a small chuckle just to see a dead serious expression on his face.

"He's dead" he just adds, I look back at him with his same sight intensity.

"I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?" I ask not letting go on my sight against his,

"We found his body in a rubbish black bag, just around the corner" he says as he slowly grabs a notebook and looks down at it.

"What does it all have to do with me?" I ask not showing a sign of worries but on the inside I'm shaking in fear.

I killed that man.

What if he knows something? What if I left some kind of evidence?

What if someone had seen Donovan and me thowing the dead body away?

I let out a deep breath and glance at him again.

He's still reading some handwritten stuff he has on his notebook.

"We've been to his office and you were the last patient who has seen him that night. Did he act weird in any way? We have reasons to think that it was a suicide" he says, I internally let out a breath of relief, a sound of joy.

"Uhm, now that I think about it, he kinda acted kind of weird" I quietly say, he makes a sign with his hand telling me to keep going.

"Well, I'm not one of his patients. I only had to take one session, that day. When I came in I felt kinda uncomfortable about talking to a stranger about my problems, you know? It's not my thing, I'd prefer keeping it all inside. I told him I wanted to leave and he started harassing me, his voice changed into a mad kind of tone" I explain,

"So what did you do at that point?"

"I left"

"What time?"