psycho
I turned off the phone and threw it on a chair, clenching my teeth. Today I found the new bottle of my favorite perfume on my nIghtstand. It wasn’t there before I went to bed last night. In fact, I could hardly remember the last time i bought myself a perfume.
It all started two months ago when Sebastian, the patient I had been working with during those seven long years, was finally released from State prison after serving 7 years of life sentence. The madman, as prisoners called him, once gone mad and murdered his commander. Bastian– that’s how he asked me to call him during my first séance – had PTSD, antIsocial personality disorder, and severe depression. i could say he became better after all those years of treatment, including insane doses of antidepressants and mood stabilizers, but it was not enough to set him free. He was dangerous, psychotic even, yet devilishly clever: he knew how to portray a man who had reconsidered his life choices and deeply regretted taking someone’s life.
Fun fact Is i knew he had never truly cared. Patients like him did not have capacity for remorse
I started treatIng hIm once I became a crIminal psychiatrist; Bastian was among my very first patients. Now when I thought of it, i could hardly believe how I agreed to take up the case when I am just a young gIrl wIth too lIttle experIence to handle an unpredIctable psychopath hIding behind a façade of a victim. Of course, i made many mistakes, starting from telling Bastian about my own past and some mental issues. That time i believed I can gain trust of my patients by being more open about myself. i was a complete idiot
Now there was not much to do once hIs tIme in prison was up. i didn’t have true evidence to make him stay. A part of me wasn’t even sure i wanted it – when a riot had started in the prison three years ago, it was Bastian who shielded me with his own body from a serial killer and my second most dangerous patient. Bastian was the only reason I am still alive.
But he was also the reason why I am leaving in haste, packing only necessities.
It all started quIte innocently with him sending me flowers and thanking for everything i had done for him. It didn’t alert me that he knew what my favorite flowers were. I thought it was just a coincidence since bouquets like these were sold in any flower shop in the city
Then I stumbled upon hIm In a café where i often had my breakfast on weekends. It could alert me, but Bastian was sitting with a charming red-haired woman, her manicured hand resting on his thigh. She didn’t quite strike me as his sister, especially since i knew he had no relatives left after his violent father died in a car accident. Seeing such a beautiful woman with him just two weeks after Bastian was released from a prison was surprising, but I knew how seductively charming Bastian could be. Besides, he looked wonderful in his biker jacket, his tight black jeans showing his strong muscular legs.
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