Simply judging from the appearance, I would be unable to confirm this person to be autistic and violent. I understand that people who are reluctant to speak feel that the person in front of them would not understand what he was saying. And in his current state, he was indeed normal.
“Hello,” I closed the the door of the control room and approached the table, “I am Frank.” I looked at him, bowed slightly and sat down, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
In response to my mediocre interrogations, he seemed to have no intentions of answering them.
“I personally feel that the bureau’s coffee isn’t up to standards as well, however, I’ve brought some tea...” I said, “It was brought back from mainland, do you have any interest in trying it?” As I spoke, I gestured for Mike to bring the tea in.
“I’ve noticed that you haven’t drank water in a long time, humans need to hydrate themselves,” I spoke, looking directly at him, “that’s if you really want to keep on living.”
He maintained that motionless posture but his slender eyelashes fluttered slightly.
“I’m not a cop, not a friend who has come to chat with you and neither am I a nanny who’s here to cheer you up,” I said smiling, “I am a doctor, someone whom you need most right now.”
He stared at the ground, with eyes that reflected a lack of soul.
“You’ve been through a lot this week. However, there has to be a day,” I bent my waist, his bent head and drooping hair covered half of his face, “one day, you will live and face all of these. Would you like to know the reason?” I asked.
He did not answer.
“Because you aren’t crazy, your mental strength is stable and you do not have amnesia.” I said, “your behaviour and emotions right now are that of ordinary people out there, especially coming from people who have experienced what you have.”
“You might not admit this but your tolerance level towards pressure is stronger than ordinary people of your age,” I said, “Although you’ve had intentions to commit suicide, you hesitated too long.”
Kris lowered his head and looked to the ground.
“You had at least 5 hours of time, but the cans of penicillin, you did not swallow it.” I looked at him, “You could have chosen to jump to death, or slit your throat with a piece of glass shard, you made such thorough preparations for death in the bathroom, but you aren’t dead.”
His lowered fingers wavered slightly.
“Your desire to live is stronger than anyone else, stronger than those companions of yours who are now dead, it is the reason why you’re still alive.” I brought myself closer to his face, “and God has allowed you to live, perhaps this may be no reward but sufferings you were meant to receive, punishments.”
His eyelashes lifted and in the brown pupil was something I could not define clearly.
“You can totally remain silent like this for the rest of your life, do a psychiatric evaluation and then find a good lawyer to defend you, you can live peacefully for the next half of your life, living it as a complacent coward. But that isn’t you.” I said, “If that’s the case, your life ended then and there in that building.”
In the few seconds of pauses, I kept my line of sight on him.
His hoarse voice uttered the first words in days, “You’re overestimating me.”
I could feel the crowd outside leaning forward, people who were not wearing a translator put them on. Just behind the glass mirror behind my back were a dozen of eyes who could observe us.
I smiled and looked at Kris, “Why do you say so?” I asked.
“Do you think you’re really smart?” He smirked and smiled at me.
“Of course not.”, I said.
“No,” he smiled and shook his head, “You must be thinking you know everything at the back of your hand, that everything is well under control.”
I looked at him in utter silence.
“If you know, those police out there invited you not because of the case or because of me, I’m simply just a fake, just an act.” Kris looked at me from the corner of his eye, “Our main motive was to trick you into coming forward. You think I’m keeping mum because I’m in pain but I’m actually just putting on an act.”
I look at Kris in front of me and started wondering if a psychiatric evaluation was actually even necessary.
“What do you feel?” He said.
At that instant pause, I replied, “I will not believe you.”
“What if you were to walk out of this room and not see anyone at all?” He asked.
I pondered for a moment, “I would think that there was an emergency so everyone ran out without informing us.”
“What if you were unable to contact anyone using a phone, and realised that the door had been locked?” He looked at me.
I stared at him and although the atmosphere made me really uncomfortable, I tried maintaining my professionalism and easy-going attitude.
“I will ….” I spinned the cup in my hands, “I will protect myself ….... and be cautious of you.”
His eyes suddenly dimmed, “You are wrong.”
“I would definitely not take the initiative to attack you before clearing up everything.” I said. “But neither would I trust you.”
He bent his head, “You are wrong …..... I was wrong …... We were all wrong.”
I examined his expression and attempted to ask, “Do you mean your group mates?”
He revealed a self deprecating smile and lowered his head, “Your tea smells good.”
I had to go along with his change of subject, “Oh, have you tasted it before?”
“Bi Luo Chun, an old friend I had used to have lots of it, we often drank.” And as he said, I gradually seemed to become his old friend. “An old Chinese friend in Korea?” I asked.
“That’s right,” he said, “We were not at liberty to drink freely, only during spring festival where tea often became a replacement for wine.” He started reminiscing.
“Your old friend, is he still in Korea?” I said.
He froze for a moment and shook his head, “I don’t know, but I guess he wouldn’t want to return to Korea, he said he wanted to go home.” As he spoke, he gently sprinkled tea on the ground.
I gazed at him silently.
“To be honest, I do not have many friends.” He turned and faced me. “He always talked about going home, I was envious of him because for me, I don’t even know where home is.”
“I think what you said was right,” he smiled at me, “I’ve lived not as a reward, but as a punishment.”
