"WHAT'S ON YOUR MIND?"

Her gaze snapped towards Nathan, who was sitting in front of her. She had spent the whole night on her couch, staring at her phone in the glass of coffee. On her way to Nathan she had futily tried to avoid Dante, until he inevitably caught up to her before she could enter. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. His gaze alone was enough to tell her all she needed to know, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he turned away from her. Who did she remind him of? It was the only explanation for him being invested at all in her, wasn't it? And if she did remind him of someone, what had happened to her?

To be honest, she didn't want to know. It would feel too much like looking into a mirror at her own fate. So instead of confronting him about anything she had heard or thought, she sat down opposite the serial killer she had to treat and smiled. Nathan leaned back in his chair, the chains clattering on the table as he mirrored her expression, his hair tousled and his eyes so dark it seemed like she would get lost in them. As he tilted his chin up cockily, she couldn't help but wonder how he had this much confidence.

All her rough childhood had given her was the inability to sleep and a talent for lying, which had helped her when she had made this persona for herself. There was nothing fake about his confidence though, the way he carried the world in the palm of his hand almost jarring. Of everything he was showing her, not much was authentic, but this was, that she knew. Fatigue was clouding her mind, but she just shook it away, knowing she couldn't allow herself to sink away in it.

"Men made of flesh and bone," she said," and the blood on their knuckles."

His lips curled up further, something wicked in his eyes.

"Are you talking about me, my dear Helene?"

"Do you see yourself as someone made of flesh and bone?" she said, almost surprised at the fact that he acknowledged himself being anything less than a god.

"No, I don't," he said, his eyes wandering over her face," but if you want me to be so, I can be human for an hour."

"Alright," she said, intertwining her hands," why do you kill?"

"You're getting straight to the million dollar question," he grinned," smart. If it had been anytime else, I would have given you the choice out of four lies, but for now I'll tell you something else."

He spread his arms, amused expression unwavering, as if he was about to tell her a joke no one had gotten before.

"The room I lived in was about this big," he said," and every day, as if at clockwork, my father grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed my head against the walls to wake me up. It was honestly impressive, almost, the way he managed to move that much in a room that small." He lowered his hands, intertwining them as well on the table like she had. "Now, why do you think he did that?"

"I can't answer that when I've never seen him," she said.

"No, you can," he replied," now, think harder. Why do you think he did that?"

Frustration at a failed life, the need for power, a temper which was lost as quickly as his mind. There were many things she wanted to say, but none of them would satisfy Nathan. She knew what the correct answer was, just as certain as she knew that his body was covered with scars underneath the orange prison jumpsuit. Sometimes, at night, she could still feel her own nightmares searing on her skin.

"For no reason at all," she said," just because he felt like it."

"Humans are strange, aren't they?" he mused," acting like we're all above animals as if we aren't slaughtering each other daily as well. At least I know what I am."

"And what are you?" she said.

"A murderer," he said," and I don't blame my youth. I'm going to be very honest with you, Helene, because you have about forty minutes of truth left, I am a bad person. I know people are crying about the injustice I've faced and the way it has shaped me, but no one made me this way. Even if I had grown up all nice and warm, the knife would have found it's way in my hand nonetheless. I am the devil because I want to be, because I can be. What other reason do I need?"

"But why those victims?" she said," why no one else but men?"

"What makes you think I didn't just feel like it?" he chuckled.

"I thought I had forty minutes of truth left," she said.

He didn't reply, staring at her instead, as if in contemplation. She had to resist the urge to fiddle with her hands, her gaze flicking from her own fingers to his, changing at once when she recognized the scars.

"Cigarette burns," she said, almost surprised.

"Some," he said, not seeming that bothered," others were far less fun."

"Nathan, I -" she began, before collecting herself again," I owe you a secret, still."

Dante immediately frowned and she wondered how he had survived until now, with how unable he was to hide his emotions. Was he angry with her again for getting closer with a criminal? Or was he simply angry at the world she carried on her shoulders, as if the sight of her struggling made him sick to his stomach? The only thing she knew for sure was that these days the one she felt most comfortable with was Nathan Parker, even if he could never wash the blood out of his hands. At least he didn't expect anything of her. Though she was his amusement of the day, that didn't mean he cared, really, and that more than anything made her calm somehow. 

She was simply here to play his game until she couldn't anymore and then he would move on to the next. He didn't necessarily seem to have any expectations of her, even if he pretended he did to keep her going. Honestly, that was fine, the knowledge that he wouldn't even flinch if she broke down. The way she knew that she couldn't disappoint him, because he didn't really care about her at all.

"A woman of your word," he said," I'm glad that you didn't try to cheat me. I hate people who break their promises, you see."

She was silent for a moment, before shrugging off her white coat. The guards blinked confusedly, Dante's eyes widening in surprise as she unbuttoned her blouse. Nathan didn't show any reaction though, instead staring at her, his eyes following her fingers carefully as she revealed her skin underneath the silk. She was wearing a top, so all that had become visible were her arms, really, but still Dante gestured for the guards to look away, smacking one of them on the head when he didn't comply.

"What are you all staring for?" he scowled, his gaze fixed on the ceiling," this is a professional setting."

"I have to say, I'm surprised it took this long," Nathan said, clearly amused by all the fuss," normally all a woman needs from me to undress is a smile."

She ignored his remark, instead turning her back towards him, hands sliding in her hair as she pushed her locks away to reveal her neck. His expression was undecipherable as ever as he looked at the cigarette burns following her spine downwards. For a moment she felt the old panic rise in her throat again as that man pressed her face in the pillow to muffle her screams, burning her over and over again.  All her mother had done when she had seen it was cry, not for her pain, but for the way her beauty had been marred.

"If any of you look," Nathan said, his voice so cold the temperature in the room dropped," I'll kill you, so keep your fucking eyes on the ceiling until my psychiatrist is clothed again."

Dante, who had been looking at the ceiling anyway, frowned at once. "Are you threatening us, Parker?"

"Do you need me to graphically describe how I'm going to kill you before you acknowledge the threat, Zarowski?" Nathan smiled," I can, if you want to. Do you know how many ways there are to gouge out someone's eyes?"

Helene let her hair fall back again, putting on her blouse before the situation could escalate any further. She never had viewed her body as anything sexual, even if she knew she was beautiful. Skin was merely an organ and her scars simply a far away memory. Some days she wondered if she would ever be able to shake the feeling of being a doll before being human, but most of them she tried not to think at all. With a shake of her head she spoke before Dante could, buttoning her blouse at the same time.

"Please don't threaten my guards," she said, knowing that commanding Nathan would only have an averse effect," they are just doing their jobs."

"And I am keeping our secret," he said," it's not something for others to see."

"You can look now," she said to the guards," I'm dressed."

All of them awkwardly looked back again, Dante's gaze flicking between her and Nathan. Right as everyone seemed to want to speak, she got to her feet, heading towards the door.

"I'll see you next time then," she said.

"You can't leave like this, Helene," Nathan said, his eyebrows twitching, his amused expression almost wavering," I didn't say you could."

"I'll be back," she said as she looked over her shoulder," I am your psychiatrist after all, aren't I?"

He didn't reply to that and she left, Dante quickly following behind. Giving Nathan the time to think about her scars was better than her telling him anything, so this was fine. They were old scars, it didn't matter. It didn't, especially not when it would help her in her job. Still, she was feeling somewhat strange. Probably the fatigue.

"What are you doing?" Dante said," why do you keep -"

"You lied," she said suddenly, interrupting him.

He blinked, staring at her in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"You told him you never said you didn't like me," she replied," but you did. You lied."

For some reason he didn't ask how she had overheard him, nor did he give her any excuses. Instead he stopped following, watching silently as she turned the corner.

When she reached her office, she finally slept.