In the afternoon he visited the infirmary. Some men sat in front of the treatment rooms, holding cold packs in front of their swollen faces. They looked ruefully at the floor. There was probably a fight. In any case, there was no blood.

At the reception, an old woman was sitting behind solid plexiglass. "Yes?" She grumbled, looking through her glasses thick as coke bottles at David, who looked attentive through the room.

"Hello," he finally greeted the lady, clearing his throat. "I'd like to make an appointment for the psychologist."

The old woman frowned. "Is it urgent?"

David considered for a moment. "Relative. It's about a recent meeting with a man,” he said, unsure of whether he meant Antonio or James.

Before the old lady could browse through a busy schedule with her eyebrows raised, a young, relatively pretty lady stood next to David. With her arms crossed, she leaned against the plexiglass window. The white coat suggested that she was a doctor.

"That was really nicely put," she said amused, and smiled in David's direction. “Most of the guys say outright what it is. Rape, sex, relationship.”

David remained silent and looked at the woman. She might have been a little younger than him, but not much. Her red hair was coloured, but looked good on her. Her pale skin and amber eyes came out even better. She looked tough. Directly. You probably had to be in a men's prison as a woman.

When nothing further came from David's side, the lady giggled wordlessly and turned to the receptionist. “I have a free appointment tonight. Give him that one.”

"When tonight?" David promptly asked. Both women looked in surprise at him.

"Why? Do you have another important appointment?” the old receptionist blared, licking her finger before turning the calendar. The red-haired lady, who didn't seem to care much about discretion, just looked sternly in David's direction and waited.

“Something like that. Right after dinner. Around 8 p.m.”

“Then how about 7 o'clock in my office. Eat earlier today. Then come to me. After that you have enough time to go to your important appointment,” the doctor explained understandingly and looked at David with great interest. The man nodded and thanked her.

"My office is the first door on the left," she said, pointing down the hall. "Dr. Novak."

David thanked her politely again and left the infirmary. Only on the way to his cell did he notice that he had already unconsciously initiated two people into his evening shower ritual: Tucker and now the doctor. James would not be delighted.

And as if one had read his thoughts, Tucker had to ask today of all things. He got curious when they went to dinner an hour earlier. "Why so early today?"

"I have another appointment," David grumbled, looking for an empty seat in the large canteen. “The psychologist. You gave me the tip.”

Tucker raised both eyebrows. “Wow, that was quick. Good choice, Bub.”

David just nodded silently. Of course, when they were sitting, Tucker had to keep asking. "So you won’t take a shower after dinner today?"

It was like an inmate turned around to face them. However, when David looked in his direction, he was just eating comfortably. "Yes, but afterwards."

“So at the usual time? Is that why we're eating earlier today? So that you can do everything in time?”

A guard eyed both of them enormously. He was within listening radius.

"Tucker," David started tense, still looking around nervously. "Just take things the way they are, okay?"

That silenced his colleague. But only for a short moment. He leaned forward and whispered very conspicuously in David's direction. "Are you in trouble?"

"No," David sighed, and just kept eating. He ignored Tucker as best he could. The guard and the inmate, who were not far from them, were minding their own business. Maybe David was just getting too paranoid. But if all inmates thought that Candy had his ears everywhere - why not in block A too.

After eating, David went straight to the infirmary. Again, he met men with bloody lips and swollen eyes. He wondered what block C's infirmary looked like. Probably there were more than just swellings and small cuts.

Or there was none at all. Because fuck those people on the other side of the society.

"Hello David," Dr. Novak greeted from the door that was open. She leaned casually against the door frame and waited for her patient to come closer. "Very punctual. I like that."

"Of course," he said somewhat tense, and was led into the small treatment room by her. The door was closed behind him.

"Have you ever been to a psychologist?" she asked very relaxed, indicating for David to take the only seat in front of the desk. The room was bare. No pictures, no decoration. Only a desk, two small base cabinets, a laptop and two chairs. Pens and other items were probably in lockable drawers under the desk. Anyway, David was surprised that the safety precautions in the infirmary were so low. But, as Tucker had already noted, the "little criminals" were in cell block A. In block C such conversations were certainly held while being chained to a metal table.

"No," David said, still looking around the empty room. "Only psychological examinations for the purpose of my job back then."

"Oh?" Dr. Novak raised her eyebrows when she finally sat down. “What did you do before? I haven't had time to look at your file yet.”

David bit his tongue. He had to remember who he was. "Train driver for local public transport."

Dr. Novak smiled with interest. "Is that so? Did you do any other job before?”

The atmosphere suddenly became colder. "No, why?"

The doctor opened her laptop and started opening a document. David could half look at her screen because the laptop was offset to both of them.

"You don't look like the typical train driver," she admitted, always smiling at him kindly. “Many retrain due to an injury. Disability, you know? That’s why I asked.”

"I've always been a train driver," David replied monotonously. The conversation was beginning to be strange.

Dr. Novak just smiled quietly for a moment until she turned to her laptop. “You have three free sessions with me. Then I have to inform the administration that you would like to take therapy. The three sessions are anonymous, I'm not noting your name, just that someone took an hour. After that I have to name you based on the cost statement. Do you understand?"

So David had three sessions to find out everything he wanted to know. He nodded.

“Good, David. I am not a friend of false courtesy; I'll tell you right away. If I ask questions that make you uncomfortable, tell me. Otherwise, I want you to answer as best you can. Meanwhile, I'm taking notes and listening to you. Roger that?"

"Understood," David replied, putting his hands on his lap. The bare room and the very extroverted Dr. Novak made it difficult to take the lead in the conversation. But what did he expect? With a psychiatrist?

“Since I couldn't read your file, David, tell me the most important things. Why are you here, what happened and why do you think you need therapy?”

Indeed, she was not a friend of false courtesy. And above all not blessed with a sensitive approach. David cleared his throat and gathered his thoughts.

“I killed my ex-wife because she cheated. Then I turned myself in. I've been here for about 10 days.”

Dr. Novak nodded and typed on her laptop. It looked like she seemed to be staring at the screen rather than listening to him, but David tried not to be put off by it.

"I had some difficulties," he began, but was interrupted by Dr. Novak's low giggle.

"Hasn’t everyone?" she said smugly and immediately waved her hand away. "Excuse me. Go on."

David bit his lip briefly. Lies had short legs, so David could only hope that they were at least faster than the truth. “Antonio Perez had threatened and sexually harassed me. I finally agreed to get involved with him, for fear that he would make my life a living hell.”

Then the doctor stopped writing for a moment. She looked up at David and blinked a few times. "I see. So that's you."

"You heard from me?"

“From the incident itself. And that an inmate was involved. Just before the dismembered body was found. Apparently, you could never have killed and disposed of three people in such a short time. I had my doubts, but when I see you sitting here now…” Her eyes went over David's statue. "… Then yes. You’re unable to kill three men and dismember them in 20 minutes.”

"Thanks?" David said uncertainly, not quite sure if he should be happy or upset.

"Unless you had help," the doctor murmured, starting to write on her laptop again. “But you've only been here 10 days. When the event happened ... only three days? Right?"

David nodded. He was no longer sure of himself. The days with James blurred. Did he really only know him for 10 days?

“You probably won't find any close friends that would make bodies disappear for you that quick. What exactly happened in the shower?”

"He raped me," David lied, remembering how Antonio's penis had slipped between his ass cheeks. An uncomfortable feeling spread over his spine. "Meanwhile, his two watchdogs stood outside and took care."

Dr. Novak's eyes narrowed slightly. “You talk very neutrally about this rape. Are you avoiding the feelings behind it, or are you actually treating this event with relative indifference?”

David cleared his throat. Time for some truth. "I suffer from alexithymia."

The doctor immediately raised both eyebrows. “Well ... this is very exciting. Did you get this diagnosis from a doctor? Because you said you were never in therapy?”

"Yes. As a child already,” David said, looking at the clock on the barred window. They haven't talked about anything essential for far too long already.

“I can imagine that you have difficulties with other people. Your ex-wife certainly didn't have it easy.”

The statement made David clench his fists. It reminded him of the many failed relationships and friendships in his life. He was the hard one. Never the others. "Maybe it wasn't easy for me either."

Dr. Novak eyed her patient for a few seconds until she leaned back and carefully closed the laptop. "David," she began, seeming to think carefully about what to say. “Perhaps I should read your files first. You seem to be a very interesting case.”

David's gaze wandered between the laptop and Dr. Novak’s. Did he give himself away? Did she see through him? Why did she end the session so suddenly?

“You know, I have to do some preparatory work so that the next meetings are more structured. Think about what you expect from therapy. What improvements you hope for, for example. Meanwhile, I'm considering how we can address the issue with Mr. Perez, given your history. Alexithymia is difficult to treat, you know.”

"I'm not here for you to treat my emotional blindness," David murmured uncertainly, feeling that maybe he shouldn't say anything more.

"But it's not about your trauma either, is it?" She leaned on her desk, crossing her arms. Her breasts protruded somewhat. David, however, was captivated by Dr. Novak’s piercing look. He did not say anything.

“You suffer from emotional blindness. I believe that immediately. You don't seem to be very emotional. You were already pretty cold earlier today. A typical charisma of emotionally blind people.”

She crossed her legs. The swivel chair moved back and forth.

“You say you killed your ex-wife. Probably caught in the act. That probably made you emotionally unstable for once - maybe. I cannot yet say what level of alexithymia you have. Emotions and actions are often linked, but doesn’t have to. Your motives to murder your wife were certainly not just emotional.”