I Told You, I'm A Monster

Chapter Eight

  WARNING WARNING WARNING!!!!! This chapter contains descriptions of rape and murder. Sensitive readers, be cautious please~  

Dr. Park personally makes sure Namjoon is back in his straitjacket as soon as he's eaten breakfast. When she's taking him back to his room, the two nearly collide with Seokjin, who's coming to his room from the opposite direction.

"Oh, good morning you two." He smiles and adjusts Namjoon's chart under his arm.

"Good morning, Dr. Kim. I'm glad to see you back." She smiles, and Seokjin thinks he senses a hint of flirtatiousness in her voice.

"Thank you, Dr. Park. I'm glad to be back too." He smiles quickly. "I can take it from here. Namjoon and I have quite a bit to talk about." He takes hold of Namjoon's arm and steers him away from a crestfallen Dr. Park. 'If only I liked women', he thinks as he leads Namjoon back to his room and cuffs his ankle to the bedpost.

"Is this really necessary?" Namjoon scoffs and settles on the bed.

"I'm afraid it is." Seokjin sits in the same chair he sat in the day before and flips open Namjoon's chart, ready to get down to business. "I know yesterday, we got off on the wrong foot. I said something that I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry for that." He'd read up on Namjoon's conditions, and in one of his textbooks, he'd read that patients like Namjoon feel like everyone owes them an apology, even when the patient is in the wrong. Clearly, his hunch to apologize to Namjoon had been right, as he sees the slow smirk creeping across his face.

"Thank you, doctor. I forgive you."

Seokjin didn't expect an aplogy back, and he nods to Namjoon as he skims over a certain page for a moment. "I want you to tell me about the catalyst that caused you to start doing the things that you did. The things that got you sent here." He chooses his words carefully, not wanting to set Namjoon off again.

"Isn't it all in your little chart?" Namjoon asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Most of it is, but I'd like to hear what started it all." His heart is pounding as he speaks. Yoongi's words echo in his mind. '...find a way to get through to him... ' '...try to understand him...' Seokjin repeats these words in his mind like a mantra as Namjoon starts to speak.

"Okay. Well, one day about seven years ago, I decided to go fuck off with some of my friends after my piano lesson." He pauses to shift his position a little. "We did stupid teenager shit, bought beer with a fake ID, did graffiti, shit like that. Then when I got home, I went into the house and the smell of blood hit me so hard it made me gag. There were splatters of it everywhere. I heard banging and grunting, so I followed the noise back to my parents' bedroom. My father was on the floor, dead in a pool of blood. I don't know if it was all his blood. On the bed was a man I'd never seen before in my life, raping my mother, who was bleeding to death from where he slit her throat."

He pauses to let Seokjin finish writing, the knowledge that he's writing his story down giving him a sense of pride and urging him to continue. "I don't move. Can't say anything. I quietly try to leave so I can call 119, but, like a cliché fucked up movie, the floorboard squeaked, so the man heard me. He told me to stay, so I did, only able to stand horrified and watch while my mother died and he finished raping her as she took her dying breath. He pulled out and made his way over to me, and then he lead me to my younger sister's room. She was tied to her bed and sobbing hysterically. I still don't know how I didn't hear her at first. He told me it was my turn. He slit her throat and told me that if I didn't do it, he would kill me, too. I didn't want to die. I was just a kid. I'd never even had sex before. So I did what he told me to." He looks straight into Seokjin's eyes. "I was never the same after that."

"For about three months, I could barely function. I was depressed and angry all the fucking time. I was confused at the swell of emotions that came up when I thought about what that man made me do. Confusion, rage, a touch of excitement that I shouldn't have had. Then one day, a girl at school looked at me and mumbled some insult. That was it. I snapped. I seduced her and lead her back to my house, and then I did to her what that man did to my mother. I slit her throat, and then I fucked her while she died. I was smart. I covered it up. Made it look like she went to live with some long-lost aunt. After that, I felt something twisted growing inside me. It became an addiction. I began finding prostitutes, homeless women, even more 'high-risk' women, and doing the same thing. Over and over. I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. If I was free, I'd be doing it right now."

Seokjin waits until Namjoon is finished speaking before he asks quietly, "How many women did you do this to?"

"I lost count after fifty." Namjoon shrugs.

Seokjin sets his pen down and folds his hands in his lap. "Namjoon, I want to help you so that you don't want to hurt women anymore. But only if you'll let me."

"I don't want your fucking help." Namoon spits. "I don't want anybody's fucking help. I want to live my life, but I'm STUCK in here like some fucking animal!" He's yelling now, and Seokjin can see even from across the room that he's shaking.

"But Namjoon, I want to--"

"I don't fucking care! Fucking GO!" Namjoon roars.

Seokjin gathers his things calmly and stands up. "I'm not going to give up on you." With that, he leaves the room, trying to put on a blank expression, but it obviously doesn't work as he receives concerned stares from doctors and a vaguely familiar man coming out of Dr. Lee's office. He takes no heed of him or anyone else though as he heads straight towards the men's restroom, locks himself in one of the stalls, and cries tears of sorrow and mourning for what Namjoon went through at such a young age. He only exits the stall when his phone beeps with his alarm signaling that it's time to check on another patient. He checks his schedule to see who it is, and his heart nearly stops beating when he reads the name.

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