Mind games [GoodGirlGrace/Mr Quixotic]

'Dr. Heather Macmillan, Psychotherapist.' Read the plaque on her door to her office. She had lush furnishings and plenty of space around her. There was a lovely arched window that stood tall, showing off the city view. Skyscrapers and buildings, busy traffic and pedestrians, all seemed expansive and vast from her 17 floor office space. She among her colleagues took up half of the floor with their department, seeing in clients daily for a variety of reasons. They were often refereed there by a Doctor or by a counsellor to undertake the program that they ran there. Dr. Macmillan herself normally dealt with the usual crowd of marital issues, depression, anger problems. She'd worked her way up and over 20 years of experience saw her as one of the leading Psychotherapists on the team.

Heather was 42 years old, but looked very good for her age. She had a well built stature, clearly she'd been working out for some time now and kept herself in good health. She had Long brown hair that was done up in a neat bun, and glasses that sat on the rim of her nose. The Frames were thin and black, with square lens. Behind those glasses laid stunning hazel/green eyes that were gently outlined by a thin layer of mascara. Her whole look was quite professional. She wore a pair of trousers and a smart white blouse with some complimenting jewellery to go alongside it.

She was sipping at a dark coffee, reading over the details on her next client. This one seemed a bit...out of the ordinary. It says he was down for depression, yet the causes explained in the document didn't quite line up with what she usually saw when she dealt with these things. No issues with finance, or jobs, no problems with a wife or a girlfriend, nothing about anything racial or anything, it just stated he felt he was depressed. She was clearly going to have to do a lot of the hard work herself. Perhaps it was a case that the patient didn't know how to or didn't feel comfortable opening up and explaining what was wrong with them.

It was the end of her lunch break, and checking her watch he should be coming up for a meeting within the next 20 minutes. During her time before hand she just continued looking through his file, checking for any anomalies.

'Dr Heather MacMillan, Psychotherapist.'

Jarrod Cross arrived at her offices, and unknotted the mauve and white neck-tie he wore with a pale blue silk shirt, and a three thousand dollar grey Armani suit. It had only been a short walk for the thirty-three year old man with shortish light brown hair, sparkling green eyes, and athletic body of one who regularly played tennis and squash, from the downtown office where he ran a one-man stock consulting business, and kept his own hours. He'd whistled the entire way. For a man who was supposedly depressed, Jarrod was in a good mood, however he deliberately changed his apparent demeanour by curling his lips down into a scowl, rubbing his eyes with his palms to redden the irises, and roughly mussing the hair on his scalp until each strand stood up straight, before he pushed through the entrance door.

"Thanks." Jarrod mumbled to the secretary on the seventeenth floor after she'd taken his name, pointed out Dr MacMillian's office, and told him to go right on in. It might have been unusual for patients, but he was looking forward to this appointment, and meeting the shrink face-to-face. Attractive, which was a must, intelligent and caring from the references he'd reviewed, and experienced enough to assist with his issues. Or, at least a woman he could share his proclivities with, without fear of arrest. You see, it wasn't as if Jarrod suffered a condition that he was looking to be cured, or required psychological intervention, just some additional excitement. He couldn't rape and kill every week.

Five victims in the past year; each a young woman brutally attacked in her own home, before she was killed. The horrors they endured were performed without remorse or empathy, and it appeared as if the attacker got off on the woman's prolonged sexual degradation. Every new crime had gained further space, and larger screaming headlines on the front pages of the newspapers, and led the evening news bulletins for weeks. However, despite the media attention and a massive manhunt, the authorities had yet to make an arrest. Damn it, Jarrod hadn't even been questioned!

Not that he'd expected to be; he had no record, nor prints on file, and had never come to the notice of authorities, but the focus on the suffering of the victims and their families, rather than how intelligent, cunning and sly their attacker was, had pissed him off. Why the fuck should it be all about them? After the fourth, the man had considered leaving some clues to taunt them with, but quickly rejected the idea. Although the Police were stupid, and it'd probably take them another year to catch on, they eventually would, and Jarrod highly preferred to be the rapist rather than the rapee. Prison held no attraction, but what else could he do to receive the credit and attention he deserved? That's when the idea occurred to him.

A psychologist, bound to the ethics of her profession, and unable to reveal to the authorities any information in regards to his past crimes. Someone to talk to, and, unlike his deceased victims, that he could return to again and again. Jarrod had to keep from grinning as he pushed open the door, and shuffled into the Psychologist's office. His eyes, which were cast to the floor, slowly lifted, and he forced a smile at the woman who occupied it, and looked exactly like the one in the photograph's he'd downloaded. "I'm Jarrod Cross, and I hope you can help me."

He spoke as his gaze averted from her, and wandered the room, wondering if there was a sofa he should lay down on.

"Jarrod, It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Dr.Heather MacMillian, though you can just call me Heather if that makes you more comfortable. I'm just going to run you through a few basics if you'd like to take a seat.." She said indicating the seat infront of her desk for now. The room had a few furnishings, including a sofa to sit on for families or group sessions, or if an individual simply prefered to sit on a sofa rather than the comfortable single chair that she had opposite her directly. "Just a few things like how these sessions will play out over the next few weeks. Firstly, you've been scheduled to come see me once a week, every Thursday. I'll keep your time slot the same each week, so there's no confusion over when you should arrive, just the same as today, come here at 2pm and check in at the receptionist. They will send you in to me once I'm ready to see you.

Secondly I'd like to just reassure you that anything that we speak about in here is strictly between us. I hold a reputation as a Psychotherapist and keep all my patients data, and issues under strict confidentiality rules. You can feel free to explain what you like to me if you think it would help me help you without the fear of anyone else hearing about it.

Thirdly for this therapy to work, I'm going to need you to go into detail with a few things in your life. This is a comfortable environment, and we're here to help you, I can't stress that enough. I know it's difficult to say some things, but honestly, I'm going to need you to want to work with me in order for us to get any progress. Obviously if you really and truely feel that there's something that you'd rather not say, then that is fine and I will respect that, but bottling things away isn't going to help us out. Also Where I say that we will be talking about lots of things, I'll be mainly focusing on possible events that lead to your coming here today, things that have been going wrong in your life, or things you feel you have no control over, maybe there's lots of little things that have happened to you that have just built up. These things are going to be what the sessions will focus on. Now then, you have an initial 2 hour slot with me, then the following weeks we'll have three 2 hour sessions, one three hour session if needed then the rest of the 4 weeks shall be 1 hour slots unless we decide that they need to be longer. It's circumstancial but I'd hope that we don't need to extend them to long." She said as a general introduction for him.

"Now then..before we begin was there anything extra that's needed? A drink or perhaps there's some questions about the format of the program that you wanted to ask me." She said giving him a chance to speak up before they got into the nitty gritty of her job.

"I appreciate you finding time for me, Doctor." Jarrod responded as he brought his gaze back to her, after having appreciated the room, and the view the seventeenth floor location provided. Despite the fact he'd been consumed by the dark side of humanity since puberty, and the recent spate of rapes were far from the only depraved acts he'd ever committed, this was the first occasion that Jarrod had received the honour of entering a Psychiatrist's office. He quickly reached the conclusion, judging from the furniture and lush surroundings, that the profession must be a lucrative one, and Heather MacMillan was likely doing well for herself. Only appropriate for someone who dealt with crazies all day.

A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips at the promise of confidentiality, but he managed to mostly conceal his amusement, and took the seat in front of her desk. When she'd completed her introduction, Jarrod nodded in in acquiescence to the suggested schedule, "That suits me. A routine would be good," and reached up to slide his necktie over his head. His fingers traced the outline of the Windsor knot when he lowered the garment to his lap, and wondered how Ms MacMillan would react if he blurted out, without warning, that the reason he was there was because three weeks ago, he'd used that very tie to drag a naked twenty-three year old woman around her apartment as if she was a dog on a leash, before he'd raped her, then throttled her to death.

As entertaining as it'd be, Jarrod didn't want to spoil the party too early, so instead he shook his head, and lifted his gaze over her shoulder. "No, I don't need anything. Thanks." He was nothing if not courteous. The man maintained a contemplative pose for a few moments, with lips pursed, as he pondered the remainder of her words, then slowly returned his focus to the Doctor, and sighed. "You're the expert in these matters, and I came seeking assistance, so I'll defer to your recommendations. Don't they say the most important thing, Doctor Macmillan, in order to recover, is to be first able to admit that you have a problem? I do, and I'll answer any questions you ask, honestly and openly, if it enables you to mend me." Jarrod smiled. "Anyway, it's not as if you haven't heard it all before. Is it, Heather?"

"Hmmm quite, well that's good, you seem to be aware of how this program works, so I shan't go over that too much longer. So Jarrod, I have on paper why you're here, but I want you to tell me quite what it is that you think is bothering you and how you've been feeling that's made you think that you should seek my help." She started, having a notepad and pen in front of her to jot down any notes if needed. She had her doubts about him, first impressions were everything, she wouldn't touch on it for now, but he was defiantly different, and if she could get that out of him through this session, then the rest of them would be easier in her eyes.

She was a long time in her profession and was able to tell when people were faking; generally people with depression hid it, a lot of the time finding that they felt they were bothering others with their problems, or not wanting to make people worry. He'd been pretty obvious with it, then straight to civil and even smirking at one point. Her eyes were like a hawks, taking in every little detail of a person, the analysis starting right from when they walked into the room. She was able to use body language and mood, general personality and even the way that they spoke or presented themselves, it all played a part in signalling what was wrong with someone.

"You would be surprised at what I hear Jarrod, everyone has their problems, and they aren't as cut and paste as you'd think, not that I'd go into detail about that, but you are right that I've seen a lot, but that should only serve to settle any nerves you have, I have worked on many cases, and I have drawn from these cases. Any one can listen to you or try to reassure you, but I will get us to the route, and help you through whatever it is you're going through with an air of professionalism I hope comforts you."

The murderer and rapist had been unsure how he'd play it before he'd entered the Psychiatrist's office, and how much he'd reveal in his first session. Ms McMillan was the expert, and it would depend on how much she could draw out of him. However, now that he'd arrived, he couldn't resist teasing with his demeanour, and tone. Would she pick up on it, and the slight smirk that had passed across his features? Jarrod didn't care; it was he paying the two hundred dollars an hour, or whatever it was, to reveal his soul, and he could do and say whatever he liked. She was here to listen.

He arched an eyebrow after his response, and awaited her reply. His fingers played with the tie, and Jarrod briefly closed his eyes to conjure an image of the Doctor with it wrapped around her neck, on all fours on the floor, before he re-opened them, and shook his head to clear his mind. It took a second for her words to register, and once they had, like the eager patient seeking help he was, Jarrod nodded in agreement, "Thank you, Heather, I'm a touch nervous, and don't wish you to think I'm crazy," then sighed and focused his gaze on the view out of the window as he paraphrased the Doctor's initial statement. "What's bothering me?"

The man pinched the bridge of the nose, and shrugged as he brought his eyes back to the Doctor. "I'm a fortunate soul, successful and wealthy, but lately I've questioned my purpose in life. Why am I here, why are any of us here? It's a cruel place; poverty, war, famine, death and destruction. Each time you read the newspapers, or switch on the evening news, all you get is crime and violence, grief and depravity. Last week, for example, in my very own neighbourhood a twenty-three year old woman, completely innocent and causing no-one any harm, was brutally raped and murdered in her apartment."

"A beautiful young creature she was, too." The man's lips curled up into a smile, and he paused momentarily with gaze locked on Heather's, then went on. "Can you image that, Doctor? The pain and suffering, the humiliation she must have endured. And for what? Because some psycho felt that it was his right to get himself off. With people such as that in this world, how could a man not be depressed?"

"I see, well that certainly is terrible to hear that..I suppose they are keeping that case quite quiet, I've not heard of anything like that on the news. But I suppose that not every case like this would make the news. Still it's an unfortunate thing that happens in our society. Some people do murder, and they tend to have reasons, perhaps he thought it some sort of twisted justice in his mind, or perhaps they were seeking revenge on the girl, you don't have the whole story and without it, things can seem quite dire. Not that I'm condoning murder or rape of course, but I'm trying to show you an example here, you have no idea of the relation between these two, or what could have driven him to do such an act in the first place. People who go that far with things tend to have an underlying reason. There's always a motive." She said, her answer was surprisingly open. It was less appalled by the rape and murder, and sounded much more factual, like this was just a part of life, or was so matter of fact these days.

She'd often normalise such things like illness and extreme circumstances after being exposed to many aspects of the human psyche through her patients. She leant back and looked him over. "As for a purpose, I believe that we find a purpose for ourselves. Unfortunately the world is a crazy place, and there's no cure all for how we live, what makes us different though is in how we choose to live our lives as individuals. If you're appalled by poverty and crime, then support charities and the police force. Don't trust charity? Perhaps create your own group, you have to find a cause, make yourself a goal and stick to it. Because without any kind of goal, it's easy to get sucked up in all this madness that we call a living. It may be quite cruel or cold of me to say but it's how we have to get on by. Either do something about it or live the best you can to the best of your ability." She shook her head, then looked back at him.

"I don't mean to sound so blunt Mr. Cross, but What is really bothering you...?" She asked. Technically she was breaking the code of conduct for psychiatrists. They wern't meant to ask leading questions but when she had a hunch about a person she was usually spot on and tended to find she'd get better results from people this way, so she did her interviews like this, rather off the book. "Was the girl close to you, perhaps someone you knew or cared for? I'm afraid to say that I'm finding it hard to say that you're a particularly depressed person with what you've told me so far.....so why are you here..? And don't worry. Depression or no, you still have time here with me. You can tell me as much or as little as you desire, if there is something else that is really bothering you, then I'm happy to admit that my hunch was off, but you're not giving me the whole story are you?"

She said her eyes sharp as she'd picked up each little smirk and signal he gave off. "Prove me wrong. Because I'm not a mind reader, but I am here to listen. So speak..." She said in a calm and relaxing way.

Jarrod's eyes remained focused on the Doctor. Not once had they shifted away as he'd spoken, and the man's tone had not been the unsure one of a depressive, and when he'd finished, his expression was one of amusement. How experienced was Heather? Would she have picked up on the nuances, and the fact that what he'd stated was pure bullshit. Jarrod had been in her office only a few short minutes, but was already enjoying himself more than he'd anticipated. It was good to be able to talk to someone, even if he'd yet to share his peccadilloes with Heather.

He listened without interruption to her monologue, and had to hide his surprise at the content. She didn't appear particularly sympathetic to the victims of the type of acts he'd mentioned, and he found her answers quite logical and factual. And a little cold. That pleased the man; he and Heather may have more in common than he'd initially contemplated. Jarrod, too, considered rape, murder, famine, flood and the like, simply a part of life; the world was filled with human beings after all, what else was to be expected? As for doing something about it, he did. Jarrod was responsible for committing some of those atrocities, and derived pleasure from every damn minute of it.

Still, he couldn't reveal the full reason for his appointment, and the type of man he was. Not yet, though possibly he could provide the Doctor with a few further hints. His shoulders lifted into a shrug, and he released the tie from his fingers, and allowed it to drop on his lap as a sheepish grin passed across his features. "I guess you've caught me out, Doctor. You see, it's not that I'm depressed. The fact of the matter is that when I turn on the news, and see those acts, I enjoy them. And that's why I'm here. Occasionally it strikes me that a man who becomes excited by atrocities, and who loves to look into the eyes of those victims on screen, and vicariously experience their horror and agony, must be crazy."

He leaned forward, with his gaze still locked on hers, and his voice raised in intensity. "The young woman I spoke of. How did it feel? Did she scream, attempt to fight her attacker, to run, to escape? What did she experience in those humiliating, final hours? Did she, in fact, become aroused as she was fucked and used and treated like an animal?" He stared at Heather for a few moments in silence, then relaxed in the seat again, and his tone softened. "You haven't heard about it, because the Authorities are keeping it under wraps. I have contacts in the force, and they tell me she's the fourth victim in three months. I didn't know her personally, but I did notice her around the neighbourhood. Can't say I blame the guy; she sure was a hot piece of ass." The man then cocked an eyebrow, and smiled at the Psychiatrist. "Honest enough for you?"

She listened to him well, keeping quiet as he explained his true issues to her. She may have been immoral in her line of questioning but she kept her job since she nearly always produced results. Each time it worked was a little reassurance to herself.

Leah nodded and jotted down quick what she could, but even that after a little while slowed to a stop as she just got enraptured by what he had to say.

"More honest than I could have hoped for to be honest; this, I can work with." She said finally not looking appalled or shocked by his answer. In fact she just looked neutral yet intrigued and curious, a true professional standard. "These kinds of likes and desires tend to have a point of origin, and anyone would be lying if they said they didn't have an element of morbid curiosity about them. Take for example if there is a car accident or a crime investigation scene, people gather, stare, discuss and keep the topic alive no matter how morally wrong they may claim it is or how appalled they are by whatever is happened, they are still drawn to these elements of Chaos. It's a break in the normality that they face every other day. Why do you think our papers are full of crime reports or stories about who died this week and how. I personally feel that civilisation as a whole has simply become much more desensitised to such prolific acts of violence." She sat back in her seat, her eyes staying locked with his.

"Don't get me wrong though, I am not saying that your case perhaps doesn't amount to needing an investigation, merely trying to show you that it's perhaps more common place than you thought. You're certainly not alone with your mind set."

She put her pen down for a moment and bought her hands up to her chest, interlocking them as she pondered before directly asking. "I find your wording a bit strange though, why would you think she was treated like an animal? Was there more to the story that you've not said?" She asked picking up on that little detail. "And you keep talking about how she was humiliated..,generally the words 'panicked' or 'terrified' would come to mind with Rape rather than humiliation though I do suppose that I could just be nit picking here." The Psychiatrist moved a lock of her hair out of her face behind her ear before picking up her pen again. She knew there was more to him than he was letting on and was coming up with a bit of a theory about him already. Leah tended to be quick to judge a person but this patient was different, he had these morally ambiguous thoughts but his air, presence..she didn't usually believe in such crap but body language was a key sign. He was hiding something and she wanted to dig it up and go as deep as she could go. It was unclear as to her motives, were they of a caring mind that thought to fix or that of the curious scientist, eager for an interesting case study. Perhaps a mix of the two but it certainly fuelled her inquiry.

Jarrod was curious to see if his words would shock her, or at least cause the woman to lose some of her composure, however Heather didn't flinch at all. That was just fine with the rapist, this was their first session, and she'd barely scratched the surface of the man who was Jarrod Cross. "I see." He nodded, and took a deep breath as contemplation's of an appropriate response swirled through his mind, then decided to attempt to twist the Psychiatrist's words, and use them against her.

"I guess that's true, and an issue I've not considered before. From this moment on, I won't be afraid to admit that passing a car accident, or hearing news of a vicious rape, results in me getting an erection. It's probably normal for all men, however, as you infer, my um, problem, may be somewhat larger than others, and require additional attention? Attention you can provide." His tone was sarcastic, and Jarrod's smirk made it clear that he was referring to something other than just his mental health. Then, without warning, his entire demeanour changed. A possible future career in Hollywood awaited. It was deliberate.

"And what would be the catalyst for my issues, Heather?" The man's elbows hit the desk and his eyes, which had drifted down to brazenly linger on the Doctor's cleavage as they'd followed her hands to her chest, narrowed and darkened when they returned to her face. His voice lowered to a harsh whisper. "Is this the moment I should reveal how, as a child, I watched my Daddy beat and rape my Mummy, through a crack in the closet door. How, eventually, the only way I could cope, was to learn to like it. That, as I sat there, all alone, locked away in the shadows, I jerked off to the sounds of her screaming, and his hands striking her flesh before he raped her?" Jarrod's brow raised, then as quick as a flash he returned to his previous calmness, and laughed when he fell back into the seat.

"That never occurred. I had loving parents, and my childhood was without trauma. As for why I say the girl was humiliated and treated like an animal. Isn't what you'd do, Doctor, take your time to savour it? If it was me, I'd degrade the dumb bitch, before," Jarrod made a slashing motion with his finger across his throat, "I killed her," then shook his head, and lowered his arm to his lap. "You know, I don't believe you're helping at all. In fact, it's beginning to strike me, that I may depart this office worse off than when I entered. Are you certain you're qualified, Heather, and your Therapeutic practices as you were taught in College? Or did you just purchase your Degree online, and are simply fumbling along in the dark?"

She listened and watched as he told his story, describing in great detail the horrid image of a child suffering the cruelty of his parents. She did react but it was such a small cue, otherwise her stance seemed like an iron wall. Leah was clearly used to not letting her emotions show in these situations. You just had to listen and try to not let the horrors you faced emotionally involve you. You were a sturdy comfort to those in need and you had to remain consistent with your approach. That's what she'd learnt through her years of training. In books, at lectures, through conversations with mentors, colleagues and trainees. Having the strength to stay stone faced when someone broke down in front of you, that was the sign of a good Psychiatrist.

She had found it hard at the beginning, despite being prepared for it and having all the warnings, the first case she had left her questioning if she was right for the job, if all those years training were a waste. It took her a while to work through it, but seeing it resolved, getting word back from her patient, she was reassured and took the experience as a lesson.

She didn't look to impressed when he said about her job and just remained professional. "I can assure you that I am the real deal, need I remind you that you came to me, clearly to me that says you want to talk, and yet you're getting defensive. I will sound short and rude when I say this, but we simply don't have the time to beat around the bush. I could tell with the way you spoke that you weren't in for what you claimed and I was right. I've been questioning you to gauge the severity of your case. It may not surprise you to hear I get people through here who simply don't need professional help but a bit of company, and that isn't what my job is. If you are here for a pow wow then I ask you please leave, but if you are affected by your issues, everyday, for weeks, months, even years. Unable to get certain urges or thoughts from your head even if you wish it yourself to change, that is what I am here for.
Now from what I've gleaned I won't throw you out. I do think we have a case here, but I will need you to be straight with me Mr.Cross, if we are to get anywhere." She said with such a direct authority in her tone. She was professional to a T.

She sat back and thought on his earlier question. "As for what I would do in a situation like that.....I suppose if morality was out the window as it was in those cases I would still not kill the girl." She said, starting to lose her focus as she though aloud. "No....I wouldn't waste such an interesting case study......" She said finally before looking to his face realising what she'd said. "Hypothetically of course...all practitioners of Psychology are at least somewhat fascinated by experiments with less moral grounding...the way you say it sounds
Like it could be a case of behaviourism and conditioning. Could you get someone to act like a dog willingly through reinforcement and reward...? I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought from time to time of the things I'd do with no rules in place." She said, her eyes back on his, shining with a kind of curious wonder as she spoke off topic like that.

"But at the end of the day that is all they are, simply thoughts, queries that get played out in the mind that are never touched on in reality."