Authors note: This is a slow burn story, and will be in multiple parts. It is also my first story and I'd love to hear any feedback!
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Chapter One
I stared furiously at the blank page in front of me, catching sight of my furrowed brow on the screen. I rubbed my forehead, my mothers warnings about wrinkles echoing in my ears. This man would be the death of me.
It had been a month since I'd started my sessions with Will, and I had nothing more than a handful of notes to add to his pitiful file. He refused to engage, and would shrug nonchalantly at the mere suggestion of a meaningful conversation. It was like he wanted to torture me, as if he knew how desperately I needed to peer into his mind and just...understand. I needed to understand how perfect Will Cunningham with his perfect education, perfect life, perfect trust fund could have so easily slaughtered his perfect father.
I'd had better conversation from one of my other clients, a nine year old selective mute accused of setting fire to her school. Once I'd gained her trust through a few sessions of talking exclusively to her toy dog, Munchkin, the stuffed dog began to reply to my questions with great reflectiveness and I now considered us to be firm friends.
But Will would rather stare absently at my wall than talk to me. I knew he was smart, he'd graduated Oxford with a masters in English Lit just a few years before I'd completed my psychology course. Maybe he was too smart. He was my only client that could disarm me, catch me off guard, make me say things that made my professional self recoil in shame.
I think he enjoyed it.
There was this look in his eyes, a darkness that glinted whenever I flustered. So different from the calculating stare I had become accustomed to.
To call him a psychopath would be flattering to all other psychopaths I had encountered, for even they had slipped up in sessions, shown the slightest hint of emotion.
Not Will.
He would saunter into my office like he didn't have a care in the world, toss his jacket on the arm of my couch before placing himself directly in the centre, his arms outstretched along the cream leather and his legs spread wide as if to take up the most space in my puny office as possible.
Then would come the smile. It was dazzling, and it was no wonder how the jury had allowed him to slip through the grasp of law enforcement. Yet there was something hauntingly strange in the way that the smile never quite reached his doe brown eyes.
I hated that despite his unfeeling eyes, sometimes, in the early hours of the morning when I couldn't sleep I would imagine that smile was for me. I would imagine him waiting for me after work, a bouquet of roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, with that same bright smile on his face.
"Hello again, Dr. Smith" I jumped, and he laughed.
"Mr. Hanson- our session finished half an hour ago" I replied, desperately trying to hide my flustering hands.
"How many times, Mr. Hanson was my father? Call me Will".
His tone was authoritative, and once again he'd caught me off guard. He ran his hand through his dark hair and shot me a knowing look. He liked seeing me like this, flustered and anxious.
"Will," I mumbled, quickly exiting his file and shutting my laptop down, "how can I help you?"
It was unorthodox of me to allow him this extra time, outside of the court ordered one hour a week but I was desperate for a breakthrough in his case, and had just about convinced myself that was the only reason I secretly felt excited to see him.
"Something you said. It made me think about...other things. Do you have a minute?"
My heart pounded. A breakthrough at this point would be major, and could see my promotion pushed to the top of Dr. Harrison's list.
"Take a seat, Will", I tried to compose myself.
Will sat in the same way he always did, his arrogance second only to his intrigue. Only this time his doe eyes stared directly at me instead of at my white walls.
"You asked me if I feel pain. Emotional pain. Guilt, I think was the word you used,"
"Yes, that seems right. You didn't answer that question" Thankfully, my professionalism had taken over and I had managed to return to my usual guarded self.
Will coughed.
"No I didn't. You see, if I'd answered that question truthfully the answer would have been no. I have never felt an ounce of guilt in my life. Not when I cut my sister's hair in her sleep, not when I pushed my brother into the deep end of the pool when I knew he couldn't swim- just to watch him struggle before the lifeguard jumped in after him. And definitely not when I murdered my father, who by all means deserved it"
He stared at me, trying to gauge my reaction.
I didn't give him the satisfaction, instead just nodded and waited for him to continue.
"Had I answered that question, you would have jumped for joy inside because you could label me a psychopath and be done with it. But I didn't, because I'm not"
He still didn't break his eye contact with me, but paused, waiting for me to push him further.
"You are right, it would have made me believe that you have psychopathic tendencies and for the most part I still do. But I'm curious to know what makes you adamant that you don't?" I smile to soften the blow of my statement.
"I don't feel guilt, but recently I've felt something new. Empathy. Now, I've only felt it once so I can't be certain but I'd say that's a pretty big argument for me not being a psychopath, despite you being so determined that I am,"
My mind whirred at a million miles an hour, trying to process everything he'd just said so I could hastily recount it on his file after he left. Part of me thought that asking him more would shut him down completely, but the other part was hopeful that this openness- being completely on his terms- could be nurtured.
"Thank you, Will, that's a really interesting point. Can you describe when you felt this feeling?" I clicked my pen impatiently, thrilled that I'd finally discovered something useful about the infamous William Hanson.
Will smiled at me again, and maybe it was wishful thinking but for a second I believe the smile almost reached his eyes.
"Of course, Anna" I was shocked that he'd used my given name, despite it being normal practice for most of my other patients.
"It was when I realized that you're just like me, you just don't know it yet"
Chapter 2
He didn't show up for his next session. Or the one after that.
I sent him an email, reminding him that missed appointments came with a fine and that he could be found in contempt of court if he didn't resume his sessions with me immediately.
It was a Sunday morning when he finally responded. I'd slept in after a night of tossing and turning, hating myself for overreacting the way I did. I had lost what had the potential to be my greatest success story yet- the rehabilitation of Will Hanson.
But was the opening up to me a ruse, just to get under my skin again? Did he tell me what I wanted to hear, was it just another one of his mind games?
I'd reacted badly, that was true, and the perfectionist in me cringed when I recalled how crudely I'd sent him away from my office- even slammed the door behind him like a petulant teenager.
How dare he compare himself to me. He was a calculating killer, one that had narrowly avoided prison by riding on the back of his mothers money and influence over the city. She'd backed his story 100%, despite the fact he openly admitted to murdering her husband in cold blood. He'd been spiked with prescription medication. He'd had impaired judgement. It was an accident. If it was any other man, any other family, he would have been looking at 25 years and no right minded jury would believe their concoction of lies, but of course- the Hanson's managed to weasel their way out of anything.
Even murder.
I waited a few hours before opening his email. I didn't plan on replying, it was a Sunday and I found weekend conversations too informal, especially with someone who looked for any way of blurring my professional boundaries. But, I needed this win.