"I was picking a car to run out in front of, but they were all going too slow." Jessica, my patient, said. She started to play with her knuckles, running the tips of her fingers over the pale surface of her hand. There was scars laid upon her knuckles, sadly from being a bulimic.
I've been talking to this girl about her depression for a month, and I haven't been able to fix her yet. She's tried to save herself, only ending in her running back to me, more broken than she was before. Really, I don't think she will get fixed. Not by me, not by herself, and not by a fucking prince.
That's why she won't have to suffer anymore.
You seem confused, so let me explain. In about another month, she'll have the courage to end her life (or try to). If she doesn't succeed, she'll be pissed off at the world and become this sadistic monster that no one wants anything to do with.
How do I know? Well, I am the sadistic monster that no one wants anything to do with.
Therefore, by taking her life and tricking people into believing its a suicide, I'll be able to fix her like a good therapist should. Maybe she'll even get into heaven like she's talked about so many times. It was the master plan, fool proof like always. In the month that I've known Jessica she's told me that she really doesn't have anyone that cares about her. This is something I ask all of my patients; their popularity.
For, if I was going to kill the suicidal queen, people would care.
This is where it gets real depressing (even more than someone wanting to take their own life). When I kill them, no one cares. Of course, people pretend to, but that's easy to see through. The people who attend the funeral sit through the service with other things on their mind, such as their boyfriend/ girlfriend or their Saturday night plans. When it's time to pretend like their showing tons and tons of attention, their still lacking the spark.
Maybe this is what made the person suicidal, or maybe they were too blind to see that no one loved them and were just naturally very sad. Whatever it is, it makes my job ten times easier. No, not my job as a therapist, but as a professional serial killer.
Shocker? No. I already told you my plans for killing Jessica, and she is certainly not my first. I've killed 13 people before her, and don't plan on stopping there. Some may call it a sick hobby, but that's just how I find my happiness; within the blood of another human.
"I just don't want to be alone, you know?" Jessica explained, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. I nodded, although I certainly didn't know. Not once have I ever thought to myself 'hey, being alone sucks', simply because I like being isolated. But, she didn't have to know that. "I hate what I think when I'm alone because it scares me." She continued. I pretended to write something down.
"Then turn on music when you're alone. Or even a tv." I recommended. She nodded, looking up at the clock. Our session was over almost twenty minutes ago, but that didn't stop her from talking and it certainly didn't make me stop her from ranting. She needed this.
"Bye Jessica, come see me next Thursday." I told her as she began to get all of her stuff together. Of course, that was a lie. She wouldn't be alive next week.
It's a shame. She could've had something going for her. Too bad she had to become suicidal.
As soon as she left, I grabbed my bag filled with varying books and headed to the front door. Giving Megan, the lady that always works the front desk, a small wave before leaving. We weren't really friends but in order for me to come off as a nice person, I have to be nice to the people that surround me. Everyone would start to suspect something if I was mean and grumpy, therefore I put myself off as someone that I'm totally not. Trust me, it works.
As soon as I pushed open the doors, small drops of rain pelted my face. People walked past my work building carrying large umbrellas, some not even caring where their large fucking umbrella goes, hence why I've been stabbed in the eye three times since I've walked out.
My car was conveniently parked across the street because I always arrive to work last, causing other people to take up the few parking places that we have for workers. Normally, it wouldn't be hard for me to walk across the street over to the extra lot, but today it seemed as if everyone was stupid. So, I had to wait for a fucking hundred cars to pass before I even got to think about stepping onto the damned street.
Today wasn't my day, if you couldn't tell. I just knew that tonight, things would change and make my day a little bit better. I wasn't even petrified that I would get caught, I never do.
Finally, the street was cleared, other than the red car that was down the road. I made a run for it, although the car was so far away. Call it a fear of dying, but that's not what it is. I bent down a bit to catch my breath from running (pathetic, right?) and walked over to where I had it parked. I had left it unlocked because this was a very good part of town. Also, it is easier to dig in my pocket for my keys while in the confide space of my own.
As usual it was a bitch to try to find said keys, taking up a few minutes to stick my hand in my skinny jeans and fish around for the object that I seem to just shove down to the bottom. My finger hooked around the circle that was on my keychain, pulling them out and scratching my finger in the process.
I turned the car on and backed out of the parking lot, ready to get home to perfect my plan for tonight.
After a very short car ride home, I was gathering my stuff to take inside. My skin was itching of anticipation because soon enough, the life of another person will be in my hands. That's just something you couldn't pass up; the feeling of being superior to your victim.
I took a quick look around me, simply because I always have slight paranoia about someone watching me. As always, no one was, so I trudged inside my small little comfy house.
My cat was perched on the couch by the door, making him jump as soon as I entered. I walked right past him and straight to my room, locking the door behind me even though I live by myself. Once again, I checked my surroundings and of course, I was alone. I was always alone.
A map laid neatly rolled up on the corner of my desk, the paper torn at the edges from the late night planning where nothing seemed to connect. Because as someone who kills people, everything has to meet or else everything will fall through and you'll end up comfy inside a jail cell. I didn't have much to live for; but I wasn't going to be locked up.
The paper crinkled under my touch as I gently unrolled it. Three x's marked around where Jessica's house was, the biggest one being where her room was. Knowing her, she doesn't get out much nor does she move from her bed unless told to do so. Therefore, that was my main place that I had to be. She lived alone, considering she was 19 and her parents gave up on her as soon as it was legal to do so.
I traced the x's, loving the feeling of the paint under my finger tips. This is it I thought.
I'm going to kill her tonight.
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I Can't Save You (Kellic)
FanfictionTherapist: A person skilled in a particular kind therapy. Kellin Quinn: A certified therapist who helps patients diagnosed with chronic depression and have a past with suicide. One Problem: Almost all of his clients end up taking there own live...