Captive by Hell

Chapter 4-boiling blood

        I was devastated when I arrived into the kitchen to find him sitting on the stool smoking a cigarette. He scared me despite the confidence I desperately wanted to show. How psychotic were his parents to believe they can just capture a woman of my intelligence and caliber that will definitely go unnoticed, I think they are the ones who need damn therapy. I stay still at first but find the will to move forward when I see the cabinets in the kitchen.

         Maybe I could start by convincing him to turn on some lights. When I reach the opposite stool on the opposite side of the island I hesitantly sit. He doesn't seem to notice me as he brings his head back and takes a drag of his cigarette.
"What did you say you're name was again?" I shudder when he speaks, his voice is so deep and enriched with an accent that I can't help the goosebumps that rise upon my skin. It was as if he was imported directly from the movie the Godfather.

"Umm Adeline" I clear my throat loudly and find every inch of my body tensed when he takes another drag from his cigarette. He seemed at ease with the dark while I am on edge, it was an unfair circumstance but I even knew better than to press luck.
"Why do you enjoy the da-rk?" My stutter releases itself on the last word which makes me gulp loudly. I shudder at the sound of my fear but he just chuckles ecstatically which leaves me to believe he is smoking pot or some other form of drugs. He does not answer directly but takes his time finding an adequate answer.

"Your hair is strange, why would you dye it so unnaturally" I scowl not because of the direct insult but because he had chosen to ignore my question.
"That's none of your business, now I asked you a question that you haven't answered yet" my bold and abrupt words make him look at me with a slick and prominent smile.

"Alright then," I clear my throat and move my butt around till i am once again comfortable in my seat,"a answer for an answer and a question for a question" his nod is slow but sure and now my mind becomes stressed from what he might ask.
"I do not wish to change my question, why is you're hair blue?" I nod and decide that the question was fair and not too personal.
"My mother dyed it and now I use a special shampoo for it not to be washed out or faded, there my turn why do you enjoy the dark?" He shrugs before adding on in words, "because it is easier to kill in the dark when you're victim is slowly killing themselves through blind insanity" my gulp is evident and I find my nerves edgy.

"My turn" is his next verbal expression and I await as he taps his chin slowly thinking of something that will surely embarrass me.
"Do you know what you're normal and biological hair color is?" I shake my head no and he giggles loudly.
"Why is it so funny?" I say and he just turns to face me with nothing more than a serious facade. Bipolar much. Confusion washes over me and he shakes his head slowly.

"You used up you're question my turn" I scowl and wait for him to continue although his views and sentiments are justly unfair. I wait as he ponders over his next question.
"What is you're Profession?"

"I'm a therapist and on certain occasions a behavior analysis federal agent"

"Do you have a qualified badge?" I nod slowly.

"I do more of criminology and help out when I can" he nods slowly with a sly half smirk upon his face.
"They've never tried a professional before" he puts out his cigarette and begins to laugh hysterically. I feel to angry to speak and to scared to be quiet.
"Well, I'm not sure why they haven't" he stops in his tracks and turns to face me with cold hard red eyes. Such filled with hatred and cold stone.
"Diagnose me" I shudder and gulp rather loudly. What was I supposed to say? Would the truth not make him more angry? It was all too vivid and painfully emotional. Yes I am a psychologist but does not mean I do not have a heart or human behavior.

"Well?" His left eyebrow is lifted and the choice for liberation had gone.
"I think you are extremely bipolar with a narcissistic paranoid little boy trapped inside a mans body. You seem parallel to talk about anything consisting you or your past,present and future. You've blocked yourself from society by hiding in dark hallways and scaring woman who I am sure do not make it out of here alive. You challenge you're desperate father and mother on their authority and wish them to leave you alone, although you know it won't ever happen. What I can not seem to figure out is why you have come to such a state of delusions. It may be an aspect of chronic personality disorder, of drug abuse, or of a serious condition such as schizophrenia in which  you have lost touch with reality either way you're past secrets have chained you to a question no one but yourself can answer 'what if?'" I finished my unplanned speech and looked upon my patient who seemed entertained yet furious.