Compromised

Chapter 1

I was once again in Dr. Jones office...for the fifth time in 7 months. I took a deep breath as I looked up at the ceiling, relaxing my body on the plush grey couch. The office was bright, and decorated in shades of black, white, and grey. There were large windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, displaying a pristine view of Langley below.

I watched as Dr. Jones as she pulled out her notepad, reading glasses, and pen like she usually does. She was an older woman, and has been with the Agency as their designated mental health evaluator for almost 25 years. Her long black hair was always pulled back in a bun tight enough to pull up the slightly sagging skin on her forehead. She was an uptight woman, and followed every procedure, rule, and regulation to a T. She was always dressed professionally, wearing a neutral colored pants suit everyday, just like everyone else in the agency.

"How did those mandated anger management classes go?" She asked with a straight face and a bored tone. In the 5 years I've known her, I've never seen her smile once.

I beat the shit out of the instructor and held him at gun point until he signed my release forms, then threatened his life if he spoke a word of what happened to anyone.

"They went great, helped me out a lot." I said as I continued to look up at the ceiling. I stretched out my arms in front of me, and placed them behind my head while I crossed my feet.

"Wonderful. And how's the depression? Are you seeing any side effects with the medication I prescribed?" She asked as she raised her eyebrow at me.

I flushed those fucking pills down the toilet the day you fucking gave them to me.

"No, everything seems fine. Better even." I said as I gave her a fake smile.

"Good to hear that." Dr. Jones said as she reached over and grabbed a file that was laying on a side table right next to her. She opened it before putting on her thick reading glasses.

"So what happened this time?" She said as she continued to look down at the file.

"Why do you need me to tell you? You're reading the report right now." I scoffed in annoyance.

"I need to hear it from your perspective. You've been in here enough, you should know the procedure by now." She said as she looked up from the file and glared at me.

I shot the fucker because I didn't feel like running after him. Cardio's not really my thing.

"My partner and I were sent to question Mario Ortez, the main suspect who we believe had ties with the European Mafia. As soon as we knocked on the door, he opened it, shot him, and tried to run. He took out his cell phone as he turned his head, I though it was a weapon, and I engaged." I lied smoothly.

I knew it was a fucking phone. There's no way I could ever mistake a cellular device for a weapon, but for some reason, that excuse was believable enough to get me out of this mental interrogation. 

"He was shot in the back of the head, killing him instantly." She read from the file as she raised her eyebrow, her eyes still locked on the folder in front of her.

Because that's exactly where I wanted to shoot him you fucking idiot.

"I was aiming for his arm, hoping that it would slow him down enough until we catch up to him. He moved at the last second, and instead of hitting his arm, it hit his head." I said, making sure to add a bit of regret into my tone to make it believable. Dr. Jones closed the file and put it back on her desk. She positioned her notebook on her lap as she crossed her legs and looked at me.

"So how did you feel when you killed him?" The boring and dull therapist said as she tilted her head slightly as she tapped the top of her pen against her chin gently.