Raising a Psychopath

NINTH

Rampant impatience got the better of me as I aimlessly sketched lines across my notepad, my body tensing at the sound of the door slamming shut. I had explicitly told him his appointment was set for 6:00 p.m., yet here he was, sauntering in at 6:30.
The realization hit me like a wave of absurdity; there I was, waiting on him as if he were royalty, despite sharing the same living space.

Yet, I couldn't muster any real annoyance. Relief washed over me instead, grateful that he had chosen to emerge from his room after the tumult of the previous day. My mind scrambled to focus on anything but the admission that fear had rooted me in place for a full half-hour, preventing me from approaching his room.

He settled onto the crimson couch with a deliberate ease, leaning forward yet maintaining an unbroken gaze, his wrists casually resting atop his knees. The chill emanating from his smoky, light eyes felt almost material, sending a shiver through me as if his very presence were beginning to cast a shadow over my thoughts. My eyes darted down to the notepad in a futile attempt to escape his icy stare, aimlessly flipping through the pages.

"Appointment number two," I whispered under my breath, more out of habit than necessity. "Today, I thought we should discuss—"
"Fuck you," he interjected, his lethal gaze piercing through me once more as I dared to meet his eyes again.

His words left me momentarily stunned, a mixture of shock and a trace of fear fluttering in my chest.
Composing myself, I cleared my throat and offered a nod, as if to acknowledge the tension hanging between us.

"Anything else?" I strove to keep the atmosphere as light as possible under the circumstances.

He reclined slightly, a sigh escaping him as though releasing a burden he had been carrying. Yet, it was evident he had more to say.
Glancing around the room, he bit his inner cheek, wrestling with his next words. It was clear from his hesitation and the fleeting look of regret that crossed his features; he was second-guessing whether to voice the thoughts teetering on the edge of his lips.

"I may have overreacted last night," he admitted, his gaze averted, as if trying to detach the moment from me. Yet, his tone carried a thread of sincerity that couldn't be ignored, despite his hesitant body language. "I probably shouldn't have threatened you like that," he confessed, finally meeting my eyes as he concluded his makeshift apology.

Though he never explicitly said 'sorry,' the acknowledgment of his misstep was a revelation in itself. I was caught off guard, pleasantly so, by his willingness to admit fault.

The true nature of his apology was ambiguous—whether it stemmed from genuine remorse or merely a tactic to alleviate the tension within our shared space, I couldn't say. What was evident, however, was his desire not to be feared but to be esteemed, perhaps even cared for, in a manner reminiscent of his relationship with his mother.

Susanne, for all her flaws, cherished Roman deeply, nurturing an attachment that bordered on obsession. Roman's reaction to emotional engagement was fascinatingly specific; indifference to kindness or hostility, but a profound fixation on any display of parental affection. This intricate weave of his psychological makeup was endlessly intriguing, revealing layers of complexity within his character I hadn't observed in any of my other patients.

"Thank you," I offered sincerely, my gratitude mingling with a complex web of emotions.

"Still shouldn't have slapped me," he remarked firmly, his gaze steady on mine. "And you should never do that again, Ally. Never." His words carried an edge that could be interpreted as a warning, yet I chose not to delve into its implications, focusing instead on the broader context of our conversation.

"Thank you," I repeated, tempering my response with a dose of restraint to avoid betraying any undue enthusiasm. "I won't lay a hand on you again. I'm sorry," I articulated the apology slowly, harbouring a faint hope he might echo the sentiment. However, I understood the importance of patience in this journey.