A prisoner on death row. A psychologist sent to evaluate the killer.
Who is at fault? The prisoner? Or the life they had and the troubles they went through? Our world is corrupt and we're only getting worse.
Warning: Dark themes are mentioned, but t...
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"Do tell," Harold said, tilting his head slightly and propping his head up on his folded hands. "What makes you think that?"
"Isn't it your job to answer that?" Calandra challenged softly, leaning back in her seat. Her aloof behavior wasn't something that Harold hadn't countered before, though, and it did not phase him in the slightest.
"Well, why don't you answer a few questions to give me some background?" Harold asked, deciding to take a bit of a different approach than normal. "Start at the beginning and work our way toward the now."
"Alright," Calandra agreed far easier than he expected. She had no reservations. She was to be executed for murder tonight and certainly didn't mind talking about herself. Calandra had actually always wanted a therapist. They were paid to listen to your problems and help you out. Kinda like renting a friend for an hour or two a week.
"The beginning..." Murmured Calandra thoughtfully before she launched her tale.
She started with her earliest memory. Playing with her sister in the closet. Calandra was three at the time and her sister was two. Her sister's name was Kestrel, although she went by Kessi in her younger years and Kes as she grew older. Both of the girls were praised for their looks, told that they were beautiful little girls and would grow into beautiful women.
The people who said this only had the kindest of intentions, but it was hard on Kessi who took the words so seriously. Calandra recalled a conversation from those years. She and Kessi were playing in the closet again and Calandra smiled and called Kessi a smart girl after Kessi showed her each of the colors and what their names were. Kessi was furious and started screaming. Kessi was not smart, she was pretty, she cried.
Calandra was shocked, unsure what to do. Desperate to stop her cries before her parents heard, Calandra rushed to assure Kessi that she was indeed pretty, far prettier than Calandra. Kessi immediately stopped crying in the frustrating way that toddlers often did.
"For reals?" She asked, looking suspiciously at Calandra.
Relieved, Calandra nodded her head and pulled Kessi in for a hug. Kessi shrieked and pushed Calandra away from her, her eyes wide. Calandra laughed and teased Kessi by pretending to try and hug her again. The two played in the walk-in closet for hours.
"But why were you guys in the closet in the first place? And for so long?" Harold asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
Calandra lifted her hand and wagged her finger back and forth slowly. "Now, Harold, I'm getting there. Give me a moment."
Harold nodded and remained silent, causing Calandra to nod sharply with satisfaction before she continued.
Calandra and Kessi were never forced to stay in the closet. No, her parents weren't cruel. It was just safest there. Her parents would forget about them when they were in the closet and no one ever hurt them there. Out of sight, out of mind, right?
