Silent Boy [ENGLISH]

3.

"Why aren't you scared, Scarlett Young?"

His voice was very melodious and gentle, and yet there was a hint of something dark. Something that would creep under your skin, put warm hands around your neck, and watch life come out of you as your eyes become glassy and lifeless.

Scarlett felt victorious, but she realized that she should not rush to wind the cup in the air - she believed that under this iceberg was hiding even bigger one. She turned slightly on her heels and settled into a chair. She crossed her legs showing her slender and tight calf that came to the fore in tight beige knee-length skirt. She watched the astonished man in front of her. He narrowed his eyes, leaning with one hand on the glass surface that separated them.

He grinned at himself and took a blue plastic chair, placing it opposite Scarlett. He wanted to keep in touch with her. He analyzed her. She knew that — she felt it, more rather. She recognized her gaze in his — the gaze she had when she tried to figure out the intentions of her patients.

She wrote something down in her notebook and cleared her throat, looking at him carefully.

"Do you know the reason why I'm here today, Mr. Carter?" Her words floated in the air like a lost balloon full of helium. He showed no sign that his twisted mind understood anything she said. He just lazily watched her like a wild cat. Maybe I rejoiced a little too soon, she concluded.

''Mr. Carter? Can you hear me?" She decided to be persistent. Maybe her irritability would make him speak again. He mumbled something in his chin, but she did not understand him.

''What did you say?''

"Sebastian," he said, this time with the same confidence he had a few moments before. ''Mr. Carter is my father. I'm just Sebastian ", he emphasized that word, letting Scarlett know that maybe his father plays a very important role in his growing up. However, she did not want to rush to conclusions or bother him too much. He wants to do this thoroughly and slowly. As long as it takes.

"Well, Sebastian, do you want to tell me something about yourself?" He looked around the room disinterestedly.

Silence. No wonder Dr. Wilson had no patience with him.

"You know, you're not like the other psychiatrists who visited me, Scarlett Young," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, emphasize the muscles in his arms. He liked to say her full name. She believed that he did it with all the victims. In that way, you raise the interlocutor's self-confidence, you give him a false sense of appreciation and specialness. You can lurk such people and you can approach them easily. You flatter them until you kill them, the romance of the twenty-first century.

"You never answered my question. Why aren't you afraid of me? "

"I think I'm the one asking the questions here, Sebastian."

"That's boring," he concluded, rocking in his chair like a child. "I prefer two-way communication."

She forced a smile and pursed her lips like a rose bud.

"Okay," accepting his game, she leaned toward him. "Why should I be afraid of you?"

He just shrugged, frowning. This amused him a lot. She tried to remember all her child patients to find a pattern in their and Sebastian's behavior. She still wasn't sure if she wanted to give the impression of an innocent child or if it was something else.

"Were others afraid of you, Sebastian?"

"Oh, yes," he said excitedly, inflaming his eyes and smiling broadly. ''You should have seen the expression of that freckled nurse when she first came to give me medicine. She was so afraid that I thought that her eyes would pop up at one point. "