[Short Story] - Psychoanalyst

“Have you ever really tried what you preach, doctor Verus?” I was getting tired of the conversation with my assigned psychoanalyst, who happened to also be my long-time working partner. “I mean really, really tested it out?” I approached the cell bars as much as I could while still sitting down. “Tell me, doctor Verus,” I leaned back in my chair–I spoke sassily as ever. “Do you really think you know what’s going on in your patients’ minds?” I looked at the two guards beside Verus. “You don’t. You don’t know.” I got up from my chair and walked away from the bars slowly. “You go on and on and on and on about what to do and how to do it and when to do it, and… The truth is, Verus, you have no idea. You have no idea what actually works and what doesn’t. You know what you are, doctor Verus?” I approached the bars again. “A walking textbook.” I stared exactly in his eyes, expecting a reaction of any kind.

“Can we get back to the point, please, Iprus?” He replied, as calm as a rock. “Why did you kill Sarah?”

I laughed. “Silly. I told you already. I wanted to get inside a murderer’s head.” I got back up from the chair again and started walking up and down my cell. “To know what a murderer thinks like, so, you know, I could help with other investigations better.” I made a sudden turn on my heels and looked him directly in the eyes. “Except you don’t know, do you? You only know what you’ve read in those little books of yours.” I approached the bars very closely yet another time and lowered my voice to a whisper. “I’ll let you in on a little secret about those books, doctor Verus,” then yelled into his ear at the top of my lungs. “They all suck!” I stormed off away from the bars again. “You’ll never understand the real thing if you only read about it. You need to implement it into your own life. You need to live it. You hear me, doctor Verus? You need to become one with it! Become it! To understand the killer you need to become the killer! To understand a–“

“Enough!” He shouted as loud as he could, forcing me to stumble back onto my chair. “I’m giving you your last chance, Iprus. Don’t screw it up.” He took a deep breath and exhaled fully before continuing.

I was the best psychoanalyst of the country’s police department before I got arrested and charged with murder.
I have forever been the person who didn’t satisfy himself with just okay. I always took it one step further and wanted to do it flawlessly. In terms of psychoanalysis and police work that meant I was to construct the perfect mental profile of the criminal we were looking for and find them–which I did. Every single time.

I wasn’t like the other psychoanalysts who only studied the criminal’s actions from afar with a notepad and a pan in their hands. I have always considered myself as more of an actor than a doctor. I was given a role and my job was to study it, learn it, and ultimately become it. I considered myself a vessel into which you could have transplanted the mind of anyone and then studied it in detail–which meant I was hardly ever myself. If ever at all.

No matter how hard I tried to deny it and fight against it, I was losing contact with reality. I didn’t know who I was anymore, couldn’t tell right from wrong, and couldn’t snap out of character the way I used to. Fiddling around with my own mental health had finally taken its toll and I knew it.

“From the start,” Verus started after a brief pause, again very calmly. “We both know you knew who the killer was before you killed Mary, so why did you do it?”

“I wanted to know how he thinks. That’s all.” I answered calmly that time around.

“God damn it, Iprus, you know that’s bullshit! You were already inside his head! Else you couldn’t have identified him!”

“But it’s true,” I continued. “I wanted to know if it changed anything. I wanted to know if I was missing something.” I got up from my chair again and turned my back on him. “At least that’s what I tell myself.” I muttered into my chin as I finally broke free of the murderous personality–just loud enough for him to hear.

“What are you talking about, Iprus?”

“I didn’t want to do it. I really didn’t, Verus.” I could tell he was waiting for me to speak up. “I was too far in-character and believed it was the way to go. Truth is I’m losing myself, Verus. All this self-experimenting has left me lost.” I paused for a second to help gather my thoughts. “Maybe I killed her because I wanted to get caught. Because I wanted to stop living like this.” I grabbed the two bars closest to his face and leaned toward him. “This isn’t life. I’m never myself anymore and I can’t let anyone near me. Not even my wife!”

“I want to help you, Iprus, I really do, but you have to let me. I can’t sign the papers saying you’re fine and stable if you’re acting like a mad monkey all the time and you out of all people know that. Give me something to work with, okay? You know I’ll help you get through with all this.”

“It’s no use, Verus. I am broken beyond repair.” I got up from the chair, walked into the corner of my cell and sat down on the bench. “Just end it. Please. Do me that one last favor.”

Verus wanted to object my words, but the two guards had already placed their hands on his shoulders and nudged him to leave. With the two guards as witnesses to our conversation, he had no choice but to sign my execution papers.