August

Anderson and Grohm sat in silence, Anderson’s eyes glued and stuck to his hands, and Grohm’s gazing upon the man before him. The air was heavy and Anderson could feel the concern and worry Grohm had begun to feel over him.

“How long have these hallucinations been in your life?” Grohm folded his hands and set them gently on his desk. The past session he spoke of how his mind was blurring edges and he felt himself begin to merge with Dr.Stevens. How he didn’t see the faces of Stevens’s victims, but he saw them and declared them his own.

“Since, uhm…” How long had it been? He remembered it was snowing, it had almost been a year since they had started. “Winter?” He wasn’t sure what the month had been, what the date or time was. In fact, the days had begun to merge since they had started. It felt like only yesterday he was in that kitchen, with his hands one after the other feeling the bones crunch under his bruised and bloodied knuckles. He ran his thumb over them, now healed and barely any reminisce of Dr.Stevens remained.

“And, do you know when they begin? Is there any warning signs?” Grohm leaned forward, his eyes still smiled despite his expression showing more than simply, concern. 

Anderson was quiet for a moment, when he is at his most restful, when he is calm, he can smell the rotting gore and viscera. He inhaled and leaned back into his seat, his eyes diverting to the book cases. “The feeling comes first.” 

The feeling of dread, the feeling that climbs through your throat and claws behind your eyes as you fight to keep them open. That feeling that you’re not alone in an empty house, that there is something daring you to turn around or look at your reflection in the window. 

“And after that?” Grohm’s brows furrowed if only a little. He studied Anderson closely, their distance gradually closing, metaphorically. He couldn’t tell if he enjoyed the man’s distress or if he wanted so badly to remove all of the sleepless nights and restlessness.

“The smell.” He swallowed rather hard, finally getting the lump in his throat to go down. It was a smell he could still vividly remind himself of. Like old meat left in a cooler, with burnt hair and old dried blood. It was rotted and foul, when he imagined the smell, he could see maggots writhing through the backs of his eyes. Needless to say he didn’t enjoy reliving these rather personal moments.

“You’ve spoken about the smells before, do they change ever? Does it always consist of Human Meat?” There was a twinge in the way Grohm said ‘Meat’, as if there was a secondary emotion buried beneath the worry. It was a twinge that Anderson quickly picked up on. He was aware of the odd and unsavory way he looked at the bodies as of late, part of him knew that he looked at the past bodies in the same light. Beautiful and Artistic, something Anderson was slowly finding comfort in, comfort in the vast difference.

“They don’t change, no.” In truth, the changes were more so in what he saw, rather than in what he felt or what he could smell. But it was always set up the same. When he was alone, at his desk.

“Were there any different ones? Outside of the creature and- Dr.Stevens.” Grohm leaned back, he wanted to peel everything back and peer into the root of this problem. But he couldn’t, Anderson had to let him in before he could do such a thing.

“There was, one. Yes.” Anderson’s eyes drifted to one of the windows, just beside Grohm as to not do so much as look as if his eyes were on him. He leaned his head into his hand with furrowed brows. “Just after the Stevens case opened, I saw the uhm…” He couldn’t remember her name, his mind had named her ‘The Birdcage’, but refused to remember her real name. 

It was something he felt a great deal of guilt over, he felt it was disrespectful and cruel to forget the names of those who Dr.Stevens had taken out of the world with him. 

“I can’t remember her name…” Anderson admitted, his face all screwed and twisted trying to scrounge his memories for the name. It was a look that was oddly endearing to Grohm, watching him stir and grovel for some sort of remembrance while the edges between himself and the man he claimed the life of blurred.

“You don’t need to.” Grohm’s voice was gentle and soft. “Tell me what you saw, let go of that memory, let yourself rest.” He tilted his head to the right, a soft smile coming to his face as he stared at Anderson, at Michael.

Anderson’s eyes shifted and stared into Grohm’s, he exhaled and his shoulders fell, as if he had been holding his breath the whole time. “The very first victim, a woman, I saw her body in my bed.” He blinked and his stare fell to his knees.

“This happened only once?” Grohm inquired, his lips pursing momentarily.

“Yes.” Anderson’s brows were slightly furrowed up in a bow, in this moment Grohm understood what it was about his eyes that he found himself staring into so often. 

It wasn’t that they were such an alluring colour, with uneven strands of browns and greens and amber, but it was the intense sadness he held inside them. He wondered if that sadness and guilt was fighting so hard to keep this darker creature from surfacing.

“I’m going to ask you something rather, unattentive.” Grohm removed his glasses and stared down at them with a slight frown as he thought carefully over his words.

“Did you enjoy killing Dr.Stevens?” Grohm looked up, the lack of frames feeling as if a shield had been let down. Anderson swallowed and shifted in his seat, processing the feeling, and then processing the question.

“I…” Their hour had long passed, approximately fifteen minutes ago. Why was it that he still sat across from a man he felt himself inferior to? And why was it that he didn’t feel the need to get up and leave? “I don’t know.” Lies kept him safe, but did he need to lie to Grohm? To Atticus?

“What did you feel when you committed the act?” His voice, now full of genuine curiosity, had let down the shroud of professionalism. 

Anderson rubbed his face and let his hands linger against his features as he leaned forward and rest his elbows on his knees. “I…I don’t know.” He didn’t want to admit it, not to himself, not aloud. When he remarks that kitchen, and the feeling in his chest, it wasn’t dread. It was never dread, but in it’s place, was euphoria. It was something he felt he craved, yet he knew that he couldn’t let himself succumb to the feeling, to the desire.

“It felt, good.”

How was he to process the admission that he enjoyed murdering Elizabeth’s father? How would he be able to look her in the eyes and act as if all was well, all while trying to warm up to her?

“So, Dr.Grohm’s kinda cool.” Her voice brought him back to reality, back down to the hospital room they sat in.

“Oh yeah? When did you have the chance to make that decision?” He raised a brow and smiled.

“Margot brought him in last week.” She was picking apart the fibers on a rip in her jeans. She had begun to enjoy Anderson, she liked how quiet he was, how he didn’t mind doing nothing and that he didn’t shroud or shield her from the truth of her situation.

“Did she now.” He sighed, his most recent session lingered in his mind like a ghost to an old manor. He couldn’t swallow down that lump, he couldn’t get over it.

“Yyep. She wanted me to have a more experienced therapist before I go back to school.” She spoke mater-of-factly, not skipping over her words or fumbling through them. It amazed Anderson that she was able to push through everything, that she was able to sit in front of Anderson and treat him as if they had known one another for much longer than they truly had.

“Are you sure you want to go back to school? You could always take the online approach-”

“I want to go to school.” Elizabeth interrupted him before he could finish. “I don’t want to stay here forever.” She sunk into her seat with folded arms and a huff. 

Anderson stared at her for a moment, the gears turning behind his eyes. He inhaled and raised his brows “You don’t want to stay here forever. Okay.” It sounded as though there was more to the statement, but he paused, as if it were obvious what he would say next.

“Okay?” She furrowed her brows. “What are you getting at.” She shifted her weight, her shoulders slanted to one side as her entire being questioned him.

“If I take temporary guardianship over you, you won’t be stuck here anymore.” He turned his head, his full attention on her with a soft smile. He couldn’t admit to her that he enjoyed the murder of her father, but he could admit that he wanted to give everything he could to her, in hopes that it might atone for his guilt.

“What would that mean?” Her interrogative posture loosened, and her stern expression shifted into a softer glare.

“It would mean that I would be responsible for you, I’d provide for you. A home, food, transportation, medical.” It sounded as though he was negotiating terms, as if he was talking business. Though, he didn’t quite know how to talk about these things, he didn’t know the correct approach, but did he need to know? 

“Legally speaking, you would be my-”

“Legal guardian.” He couldn’t let her say it, he couldn’t let her…

“Oh…kay…” She thought about it for a moment. A house, surrounded by woods and fields. A house where there was no one to disturb you, no loud neighbors, no streetlights, rarely any cars. She didn’t mind the idea, however, she did mind the idea of living with Anderson. Her options unfortunately were limited.

It clung to the folds long after Anderson had left the hospital. The thought that her only options were the foster system, where she could be put in danger, or Anderson. 

There were days where she thought it not an all too bad idea, and then there were days where the mere thought of him made her blood boil and her eyes well. Those days, were the days she missed her family, her house in the suburbs. Those days she missed how her life was, how it was simple, even if behind closed doors was more complicated than anyone could ever truly imagine.

However now, as she sat by the window with the world slowly becoming golden and pink, she thought more about the house he lived in. She thought about what it might look like, what the scenery was like, she even wondered if she would see deer or coyotes. She wondered if there were foxes and wild cats like cougars. 

She wondered if there, in that house she had never seen, she could breathe. Only then did she come to terms, and enjoy the thought.

The thought of crisp morning air, not soured by the smells of the city. The ability to look out her window and always find something new, the ability to watch the world shift without any obstacle. 

She enjoyed the moment of serenity, the moment of peace, the moment to breathe.