Where the peace lies?

Where the Peace lies

Curiosity, now that’s a word that can describe itself better than a lot of other words in English dictionary. Why? you might ask. Well isn’t it obvious people are curious about curiosity itself, they wonder and wonder where it came from how it came into existence and is it worth opening the Pandora’s box if the stake is as high as the destruction of the world.

Answer to that question to some it’s yes to some it’s no and some don’t know. But most would agree that only way to know is to be in a situation like that, to be curious, how is that like? Then they start to think and that creates curiosity. An Ouroboros (snake eating its tail).

For Dr. Aima thinking about curiosity on a Monday morning just right after waking up isn’t as strange as it would be for normal people. She has always been curious. But humans are the ones that intrigues her the most. Humans are curious all of them, it’s a common factor among them.

And yet they are not the same.

“Ah” she groans, tired, irritated by her mind that only takes a break when she is asleep.

Her curiosity of humans led her to become a psychotherapist, defying her parents who were lawyers and wanted her to be a lawyer as well. Do they still think she made the wrong choice? Without a doubt she thinks. But do they let it show? Not a chance. Their lawyer’s hat is always on their head, they don’t do or say anything that can be used against them.

They are good at reading people too maybe that’s where Aima got her “God given” talent for reading people. God. The thought brings a sarcastic smile on her face.

“Enough” she thinks, getting out of bed. “should I fix the sheets” she considers, “no” she decides and moves on. She lives in a small suburban house, alone, it is not as big as she’d like but it isn’t bad.

She goes to the toilet takes her time on the seat her brain not leaving her alone even there. She wonders if she should call them about the patient she is about to see. “once in a life time opportunity, they would want her to convince him to hire them as his lawyers”. One of the reasons she hated the idea of being a lawyer is having to defend criminals. Being a psychotherapist isn’t all that different either you could still end up defending a man who committed a heinous crime but at least you don’t have to kill your conscious for it. At the end she decides that she should just let the news channels do this for her.

She is feeling sad now that her brain has forced her to think about the immorality of her parents. She gets up, washes her hands and starts to brush her teeth.

She takes a bath, get out of the bathroom, naked, she opens her closet and starts to wonder what she should wear. She thinks about wearing the red dress, gives it a test run by putting it in front of herself and looking into the mirror.

Confident yet slutty. She thinks. Her body is as slim as it was 20 years ago when she was dressing for her first interview, it was a different time than women needed to be sexy to get a job now it is a little different. Because we have “Facebook”. She smiles, her sarcastic smile quite visible in the mirror.

Does she look old, no, her boy cut, and blond hair make her look younger than she is, her eyes are still as deep as they ever were, her breast loose enough to say approachable, her legs still long and slim still salacious.

She turns sideways to see her belly, no, not fat still quite fit.

After 20 minutes of pondering she decides to wear a suit, professional, perfect for what she is about to do.

She comes down to the kitchen makes herself breakfast, coffee with 2 eggs scrambled, she checks her phone to see if there are any missed calls or voice mails, none.

She goes to the garage, gets into her car, gets out of the house, close the house door, and embarks on her journey.

On the way to the facility she thinks about the article about her latest paper that she published almost a month ago Curiosity: A Placeholder. She received a lot of praise for her paper, her take on human mind’s desire to be curious and satisfy curiosity was admired even by her old professor. Her mind won’t stop thinking, she knows it, to distract it she pulls over, downloads the article in audio form and starts to listen to it.

She reaches her destination just in time. Punctuality is not one of her strong suits but when a job is as high as this one you have to be as professional as possible.

She opens her car door and steps out of it. “I wonder if they validate parking” she thinks. She walks towards the front door and enters it. One of the biggest chapters of her life is beginning and she can feel it.

She goes through the metal detector and then asks the receptionist for direction. Receptionist tells her that agent Herald will be here in a minute to take her to the suspect.

Agent Herald arrives after five minutes. Tall, half bald, wearing glasses, he is emitting confidence, he is fit, she knows that a lot of hormones have been released in her body because she can feel an attraction for agent Herald.

Agent Herald asks her to follow him. “I believe you know about the suspect” he asks as they make their way to the left.

“Only what has been reported in the news” she replies

“Well we do not know why he asked for you, but I assume he knows you... very well” Agent Herald sounds distress “we wanted to send you a copy of the case file, but we decided it wouldn’t be much help because quite frankly we don’t know more than the media”

“Forgive for being blunt” she says, knowing she should be careful “but why have you asked me here? I mean he confessed”

“He claims that the child is alive. And that he’ll only tell you where he is?”

“And do you have an idea why?”

“well Miss. Aima I do.” he says, with pride in his voice, or is it arrogance “but I believe I shouldn’t influence your judgment, now should I?”

“No. you shouldn’t” she says.

Is she annoyed by Agent’s behavior, no, not really. She is just confused. But as powerful and impacting confusion is curiosity beats it by all accounts.

She enters a room it has a mirror on one end. You can’t see anything in it not yet at least. There are two agents standing in-front of the mirror. One mail, one female.

“Welcome” the woman says “I’m agent Julia Crawford and this is Agent Harvey Dent” the woman is lean and older than the man probably 45 years old. She took the lead, so she must be in charged.

The man presses a button under the mirror and suddenly a room appears beyond it. The other half of the interrogation room. There is a man sitting there. He is wearing a black shirt that is clearly one number bigger his size with black jeans. He is without a doubt the man she is here to talk to the notorious--

“Jason Armstrong” The man says in his deep voice “he came to the NYPD office to confess to be the Placeholder, of course they didn’t believe him, but he showed them 2 photos of the child, in one he looks 13 years old the age he was abducted, and in the other he looks 18 years old the age he should be right now.

“He claimed the child was alive. So, we intervened. Because it was important to find the child as soon as possible. Unfortunately, Jason did not say a word for almost 2 days he was in captivity. Then he asked to see you.”

“But how do we know that the child is still alive” Aima says “I mean realistically speaking the chances of a child like that surviving on his own are not that much”

“We agree” Agent Crawford says, she is as calm as a monk “but Jason says that he made sure that child could survive for almost a week without him.”

“And you believe him.”

“We have no choice. Before handing himself to the police he sent a letter, with the photographs to almost all the news channel, telling them that he would make a demand after 2 days and the child will live for a week.”

Smart. She thinks. It’s not easy to strong arm FBI but using the media as a weapon now that is a great move.

“We were able to hold the press from publishing this, but press can be unpredictable. We will tell them about his demand and that you-” she seems to have sensed the distress on Aima’s face “that is of course if you agree.”

“Of course, I do.”.

She is escorted into the room by Agent Crawford. Up close the man is even more beautiful than his photos Aima has seen in the news. His clothing is complementing his brown skin, with his long-tangled hair, and his deep brown eyes. He is fit, and charm is dripping from his mouth because of the way he is looking at them. His hands are in handcuffs, but he can still move them. He speaks. His voice is seductive, it makes you feel like you can trust him.

“I would prefer if you give us the facade of privacy, at the very least” he looks towards Crawford and points towards the mirror in this part of the room. Which is not showing anything beyond it.

She looks at her. She nods “it’s alright” and the agent leaves them. Two strangers, about to share an intimate time. Or are they strangers. She knows a lot about what he did but what does he knows about her. Something or else why would he call her. But what they know, is it really enough to say that they are not strangers. He points towards the chair, she sits down.

“Hello” she says, in hopes of building report, it’s a long process but it often starts with a simple greeting.

“Hello” he replies. He doesn’t say anything else clearly waiting for Aima to speak.

“How are you?”

“How do you think?” the way he speaks has a Russian manner to it, but he does not have the accent.

“I think you are happy” he looks intrigued.

“I am happy. It’s not easy to get people to do what you want.”

“But it is rewarding. So why did you ask me to come here?”

“For the same reason you came”

“I came to help the authorities find the child”

“No, you didn’t” he says defiant.

“I believe I know myself better than you do. But we are not here to talk about me”

“I know but you asked a question and I answered. Can you blame me if it led to you?” He looks at her intrigued, waiting for her to answer.

“Why did you kidnap the child?” she changes the topic.

“Why did Ted Bunty kill all those women?”

“I don’t know he died before I could ask him. Why kidnap someone you knew why not go for a stranger? Why steal from your own house?”

“Why study your own kind?”

“So why DID you ask me to come here?” she circles back telling him that she won’t engage, that she is not going to giving in.

He doesn’t answer. He leans back, folds his arms and looks at her, his gaze is piercing, his face hard to read, what will he do now? She wonders.

“I read your paper on curiosity” he answers. Aima is happy but she doesn’t let it show. She knows she holds all the cards, the man before her wants to be heard. She opens her mouth to speak but Jason beats her to it “I really liked your reference to Pandora, how and probably why the Greeks made that story up because Greeks understood how dangerous curiosity can be? like the seven deadly sins in Christianity.

“I mean after all, it made you come here.” he waits clearly to enjoy this moment, she gives him no reaction “anyhow it also told me that you don’t believe in God and even if you do, you don’t like him. Do you?” he asks but doesn’t wait for an answer. Power play she thinks. “I personally liked your first draft better, in it your thoughts were-”

“My first draft?”

“Yes, I hacked your computer. But as I was saying” he continues waving his hands, probably relishing getting a response from her “Your thoughts were in a disarray. So many on so many topics. It was a different kind of fun. Like reading a manifesto. A glimpse into your mind.”

“You violated my privacy.”

“Oh please. Privacy is just a facade” he points towards the glass again. “Anyhow I also relate with your defiance to your parents. Yes, I read your texts.” he says, waving his hands again showing no remorse whatsoever” What I don’t like is why keep up the facade of love if you hate them.”

“So, you hate your parents?”

“I wonder why is it that you hate them?” he ignores her question “Maybe because they didn’t support your career choice humph no you are not that basic?” he waits clearly for a response not that any is coming “Or maybe it’s because of their career choice?”.

“So, do you hate your parents” she asks again.

He says nothing. His expressions are obvious. He is thinking, evaluating his positions. But she knows it’s pointless. She holds the cards and she doesn’t need to give him anything unless she absolutely has to. He smiles, leans back but says nothing. The time starts to pass.

Aima’s brain starts to wonder. What kind of childhood did Jason has to become this monster? This creature who preys on the innocent. And why mention God? That was out of nowhere. There was no mention of God in the paper or even in the first draft. She tries to remember but it is hard to remember a disarray of thoughts.

Time starts to pass. Time, she wonders is such a powerful thing. Those who have it don’t appreciate it like babies or parents who just had them, they think they have all the time in the world, but do they? Then there are those who don’t have even a moment to spare, like the boy Jason kidnapped.

She goes down memory lane to remember the child’s name, strange isn’t it everybody remembers the criminal but not the victims like those of 9/11. She remembers the boy’s name Angel Specter. Her brain takes her 5 years back when she was sitting with her boyfriend watching the news. That boy is very attractive. She remembers thinking.

She also remembers how her boyfriend Jack had asked if she wanted any children. She remembers the fight or rather the fights they had about having children. It is strange she thinks she always wants the loving, caring type of men in her life, but these men she knows, want children. If they didn’t they wouldn’t be loving and caring.

She comes back to the present to this small damp interrogation room. She looks at the man in front of her, he is attractive the kind she often picks for one-night stands. Not very clingy but thorough in bed.

Why isn’t he saying anything she wonders. It’s been almost 10 minutes since he has said anything. Doesn’t he want to be heard? What is he playing at? What is he doing? And then she realizes what’s happening and why there is a chance now that she might end up making mistakes along the way.

“I am sorry I interrupted you” she apologizes “I believe you were talking about my parents’ career. Yes, I do have a problem with that”

He smiles. Aima knows that there is no position of power in their relationship. He may have a pathological need to be heard but she wants to hear him. They are equals. And now they will have to be intimate.

He leans forward, folds his hands on the table and smiles “I hated my parents. They were opposite, but they were both um... let’s just say unlovable. My father wasn’t really a mean drunk or anything, but he was broken. We didn’t really have a relationship, he hit me twice. Once because I criticized him for not going to church and once because I used a bad word. I wasn’t a bad child you know, I was humble, obedient, very naive if you must and yet still I was put under a microscope, my every move every word was criticized, I hated him for doing that, not unconsciously no, even than I hated him consciously.

My mother on the other hand was sweet, or at least that’s what we, me and my siblings thought, because that’s what she said she was. She didn’t hit us, at least not that I can remember. But she was negative. Filled with negativity and hatred for everyone around her. But no, there was no chance in hell that she showed it. Yes, she was a hypocrite. She was also over protective. Reminding us every chance she got of the sacrifices she made for us.

What do you think the combination of such people does to a child?”

Aima is awestruck. She doesn’t know what to say? The thing that confuses her is not the strange relation Jason had with his parents but the openness he is showing. It can take patients years or at least months to become so open about their life especially their childhood. Perhaps Jason has sensed what she is thinking.

“The reason I am opening up to you about this is because we don’t have much time to spend together so I don’t have time to act as normal people. I want to tell my story. I want to make a point.”

“And what point is that?” she asks, determined to find his intentions, his endgame.

“In early 1900s there was a man” he says waving his hands “who become a pedophile because of a tumor in his mind. Another man whose personality was completely changed because of an injury to his brain, he became more violent”.

“I wouldn’t say that blowing half of your brains out with a gunshot could be described by as a mere word as injury” she says, “So is that your point Mr. Armstrong that biology forms our psychology?”

“Yes, but it’s not as simple as that. I am not blaming biology I am blaming God.” Aima’s interest is peaked “He is the reason for all the evil in the world. Do you believe in evil” Aima opens her mouth to answer the question but Jason keeps going “Oh and please call me Jason.”

“Forgive me but I don’t believe in evil” she hesitates “Jason, I believe that some people are ill, so they make mistakes, sometimes those mistakes cannot be fixed but-”

“And still your law punishes psychopaths.”

“Psychopaths choose to commit crimes they are not the same as a man going through a psychotic break or suffering from schizophrenia”

“I agree. But isn’t it’s the fault of their brain that they do not have empathy and they enjoy other’s pain”

“It’s not as simple as that”

“isn’t it though”

The door opens with a strange sound that despite hearing throughout her career she is still not used to. Their attention shifts towards the door. Agent Crawford is standing there “May we have a moment doctor” she says in a sweet tone.

“oh, someone’s in trouble” Jason remarks.