Mend the Seams (Buried Secrets 3)

I crack my neck to the left and slowly turn towards the small doctor, my eyes drawing into small slits. “Demons, eh? You wanna talk about my fuckin’ demons?” She tilts her head to the side, looking up at me with those innocent, fearful eyes. “Doc, my demons lie dormant for a reason. I’m the monstrous man that I am because I have to protect the people that I love and speaking about my demons will only unleash the dark evil inside me, and I’d just rather let sleeping dogs lie.” I spit through grit teeth.

Dr. Hampton’s body trembles. She looks away from me, loudly inhaling a shaky breath. She’s a small woman, maybe five-foot-one and one hundred-twenty pounds. She has a heart shaped face, with soft round innocent eyes. Very attractive, but meek and mousy. I wonder what prompted a woman like her to want to work with deviants like myself. To put up with murderous psychopaths day in and day out. Maybe she needs her head checked?

She straightens her posture, squaring her shoulders proudly. “Josh, I’m only going to ask you this once, next time I’ll step out and ask the CO to forcefully instruct you. SIT DOWN, please.” Her voice rises as she barks her command. She can’t be serious. She can’t fully expect me to listen to her demands.

My shoulders bounce up and down, as a sardonic chuckle slips free. “And what if I feel no remorse?”

She waves her hand at the chair I was sitting in, smiling she says, “Well, let’s talk about that and we’ll go from there.”

I glance up at the clock boringly and realize twenty five to life is a long ass time, so I got it to kill. What more do I have to do than sit with Dr. Hampton and listen to her incessant rambling about whatever psychological bullshit she wants to spin my way. Reluctantly, I plant my ass back down in the chair. I’ve never seen a psychologist. Hell, I have two emotions – pissed and fuckin’ pissed as hell. There’s no happiness, hearts or fuckin’ rainbows in my life. There have been happy moments, but I erased every thought of happiness when I let Drew figuratively shove his hand up my ass and play puppet master. So what Dr. Hampton hopes to gather from these sessions is beyond me. But I am rather intrigued.

Staring blankly at Dr. Hampton my jaw tics waiting for her inquisition to begin, only she stares back silently. A war of impassive glares ensues and my frustration grows. She taps her pen lazily against the folder in her lap, uncrossing her left leg from the right, only to cross the right over the left.

“What the fuck? You told me to sit, I’m fuckin’ sittin’. What next? Are we just gonna sit here and have a fuckin’ starin’ contest, because if so I’d rather head back to my cell and count the fuckin’ ceiling stains or pound my fist against the wall to beat out some of this frustration you’ve caused me here.” I snap at her. I have very little patience.

“WOW! Such anger. We’ll work on that as well. I was actually waiting for you to open up, Josh. But I should have expected you to be a man of few words, so I’ll start. You’re very prideful, genuinely overconfident. Explain your pride to me.”

She’s read my file and she doesn’t understand why I’d be proud? What the fuck did she go to college for? “I’m very successful, of course I’m proud of the man I’ve become.” I huff at her ridiculous question.

“Perhaps too proud?”

“Is there such thing?” I scoff.

“There is actually. Answer me this – Do you feel you are of the utmost of importance?”

“Highly.” I smirk, proudly.

“And you feel that there are people who are beneath you?”

“Dr. Hampton, there is a food chain of command in this world and I just happen to be at the top.”

“I see,” she nods, clicking the tip of her pen, scratching notes in her pad. Classic fuckin’ shrink. “So how does your importance affect your relationship with your family?”

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking?”

“Do you put yourself before your family, Josh? Do you spend holidays and birthdays with your children, or rather attend to business meetings or golf with friends?” Her eyebrows raise and she tilts her head to the side as she watches me intently, analyzing my breathing, my facial expressions, and the dilation of my pupils. She’s trying to gauge my trigger points, and if she hasn’t figured it out by now mentioning my family sets me off. But I refuse to allow her to label me with her fuckin’ head shrink bullshit, so I keep my tone even and steady.

“Dr. Hampton, my business is essential to my family’s life style. Without my endless hours at the office and traveling for days on end, my wife wouldn’t have the opportunity to stay home to raise our children. My children wouldn’t attend the best private school in the state. They would have wants and quite possibly even needs. So yes, I sacrifice time with my family to enhance their lifestyle. Personally, I think it’s a rather selfless act, putting my family first.” I tsk.

“But what about the abuse, Josh? How do you justify the abuse?” My jaw sets hard as I grind my teeth together. She ain’t very delicate in her attempts to get me to open up. She’s a heavy hitter, aimin’ right for my fuckin’ nut sack. Bitch.

“What you see as abuse, I see as exercising my authority.” I reply truthfully.

“Authority? You hold authority over your wife? Her sister? Or women in general?" She squares her shoulders as she speaks, silently relaying the message that in this room, she is the authority. My right brow quirks up at the confidence she exudes in that statement, but like I told her earlier, those pretty little plaques on her wall don’t mean shit to me. “Your arrogance and hunger for authority and power coincide with your antisocial personality. Anti-socials aren’t just people who shy away from society, and I believe that is what you’re hearing when I use the term. Anti-socials actually are very depraved individuals, Josh, who are very lack in remorse, laws are nonexistent to them, and they seek pleasure in manipulation and pain.”

I shrug my shoulders, completely uninterested in goin’ further into this psycho – babble bullshit with her.

“However, one piece of the puzzle that makes absolutely no sense to me is how Drew Varney comes into play?” She opens the file and thumbs through notes scribbled across a few pages before her eyes scan back up to mine. “I see here that you and Drew have been friends for some time now. With friendship comes loyalty. The two of you are business partners, you’re his right hand man at American Heritage…how loyal is your friendship?”

I draw in a slow, choppy breath because Drew fuckin’ Varney is yet another sore subject with me. “I know my place with Drew, especially now that he’s left me to rot in this shit hole.”

“Do you care to elaborate, Josh?” She inches towards the edge of her seat, propping her elbow up on her knee and resting her face in her palm as she waits for me to give her the juicy scoop on our bro-mance break-up.

I blow out a loud, frustrated huff of air, “Not much to tell, really. Bust my ass for the man doing unmentionable deeds and he betrays me. End of story.” I ball my fist up angrily, digging my short nails into the palms of my cuffed hands. Damn, the anger is flowing now. She’s plucked that final nerve and it’s taking everything in me to find restraint. “I’m done. Gotta get the fuck outta this room before I suffocate.” I don’t give her room for argument, and I’m sure the bulging vein over my brow gives her a clear indication not to push me any further.

Her eyes grow wide and she sucks in a short breath saying, “I understand, Josh. I’ll call for a CO to return you to your cell.”

This is why I’m so against therapy. I’m living in the fuckin’ seventh circle of hell right now, and although I’m consumed with darkness I can manage my anger by keeping it all bottled up, then unleashing at the rare chance I get yard time. Talking about it will only cause my demons to rise, and it won’t take long for the darkness to take over. Then they’ll all be fucked.