Full story description at the end :)
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Cason plopped into the chair. He was never enthusiastic about his mandatory psych visits, especially being a psychiatrist himself. But the police chief demanded them in exchange for continuing to work at the department. Whatever floats the boat. His eyes drifted around the room. Nothing had changed in the three years that he had frequented this particular office. That measly poster of some obscure band was still taped to the back of the door alongside three plants that had mysteriously stayed alive. Or maybe they were new…
“Why are we here today, Cason?” He hated that question, even more so than being *here. His psych [Kevin] knew why they were here as well as what it would take for these visits to stop. But he liked to beat around the bush. Cason remained silent, staring down at his hands as he fiddled with the loose threads of his seat. It had become worn from his restlessness over the past week. “Cason, if you don’t talk to me, I can’t help you.”
It didn’t make a lot of sense. His psychiatrist knew what was wrong and what he needed to feel whole again. But this roundabout game that they kept playing was going nowhere. He was tired of feeling useless. Even when he spoke about what was bothering him, no one gave him answers. Cason was assumed crazy and left to wander in his own imagination. It was easier to have people pity him in his silence.
He made eye contact with the man sitting across the room. He was leaning forward, elbows propped up on his knees, fingers interlocked. His piercing blue eyes were asking the questions. He probably hadn’t shaved in a day or two, since they met last but it didn’t seem off-putting. He half-smiled and leaned back in his chair. “I’ll talk. You listen.” Cason scowled but didn’t respond. He didn’t want his psychiatrist to pry anymore.
“Your brother’s murderer hasn’t been caught in the three years that you’ve all been searching.” Right to the heart of the problem. It should have hit a nerve but Cason didn’t feel pain. It was like rehashing an issue that he had already dealt with. He just hadn’t let anyone in on that secret, mostly because no one would understand his decision. As a criminal psychologist, Cason had the utmost respect for criminals.
He understood why they committed crimes and what drove them to break the laws that the government had set forth. That’s why-
“You said you let him go the first time. What about now? If he resurfaced, what would you do?” It was a hard question. The murderer had slipped through his fingers the first time mostly due to the task force’s negligent mistakes. But on some level, Cason hadn’t wanted the man to be caught. He had left out pertinent details to make sure that that happened. In a parallel universe, without his intervention, the criminal might have been caught. Might.
Cason clasped his hands together and took a deep breath. He hadn’t really thought about what would happen if the man resurfaced. There didn’t seem a need to come back after all the damage he had caused. Then again, maybe he had never completed his mission, whatever it might have been. “I forgave him.” Cason finally answered. Judging by the way his psychiatrist uncomfortably shifted in his chair, it wasn’t the answer he was looking for.
“What?” His eyebrows were creased. Not a good sign.
Cason took another moment to think, trying to figure out how to word his own thoughts. If he drew the wrong picture, his psychiatrist would send him to the looney bin. “I… never hated him.” That wasn’t entirely true. Three years ago, Cason had been a wreck. After having been kidnapped, tortured, and then returned to his father, Cason could barely stand human contact. To top that, his brother had been murdered right beside him days before.
Terrors plagued his nights and hallucinations followed him during the day. Cason wanted to make that man pay for all the pain that he had caused. Cason was reckless, irritable, and violent. The slightest thing set him off. And then one day, he accepted him. He couldn’t explain how or why to anyone. They wouldn’t understand. His psychiatrist didn’t understand the drastic change either and had been trying to dig under the skin ever since.
To this day, Cason refused to tell anyone why he had forgiven the man. But maybe now was the time. Maybe it would help to say aloud what he had held in for so long. Cason met his psychiatrist’s stare. Still waiting. Ok. Here it goes. “I understand him. I – empathize.” His psychiatrist’s face changed from curiosity to a state of intrigue. All of this crazy was actually interesting to him. Sick bastard.
“But, he killed your brother.”
Cason nodded. True. Very true. And this was the hard part, explaining why he empathized. Why he cared what the murderer thought. “I know that.” He retorted but clammed up trying to find the next set of smart words. “But I also know why he did it. It… It just makes sense.”
“Can you explain that?” Cason stared at the man across from him. He was actually getting worried, worried that Cason might actually be dangerously psychotic, contracting the same illness that had plagued his mother. But it wasn’t like that. Really.
“You’d think I was crazy. No one understands how I think. I just-” This wasn’t going to work. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just stayed parked behind the wall he always had. Dang it. Fuck.
His psychiatrist stood up, wringing his hands. He faced the door for a minute, his head focused on the ceiling, maybe preparing a speech. Then he turned around, nodded, and stared Cason straight in the eye. “But how do you feel about him? He killed your brother, tore apart your family, and tortured you.” Silence filled the office space.
How was he supposed to respond to that? How did he feel? Of course he hated him. This man killed his brother, his best friend, and a part of his soul. What the fuck were these questions? But Cason realized that he didn’t hate this man – not entirely. In fact, a different feeling swelled his heart every time the issue came up, a feeling that was completely and utterly foreign to these types of situations.
Maybe that’s why he hadn’t told anyone about his decision to forgive the man.
“I guess… I understand-“
The psychiatrist took two long strides towards Cason and stared him dead in the eye. “Not that shit again. Tell me the truth.” Easily six inches taller, Cason was hardly intimidated but it was a little uncomfortable to have someone standing over him. Cason scooted over to the far side of the couch. The guy was fishing for answers and he seemed desperate. Should he give in? Should he tell the truth? Would he understand?
“If I was him, I’d have killed my brother too.”
The look of horror etched into his psychiatrist’s face told Cason that maybe he should have kept his decision quiet.
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Story description: His twin had been murdered, his mother hospitalized, and criminal psychologist, Cason, had what the psychiatrist called PTSD. But in a twisted way, for reasons he couldn’t explain, Cason empathized with his brother’s killer. It’s why the killer had slipped through the FBI’s fingers the first time. But now the murderer has resurfaced and Cason has another choice to make. Beneath the secrets, lies, and the shield that he keeps up in public, he must decide what is more important. Find vengeance for his brother or follow his twisted heart.
ns 172.70.130.108da2
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