Murder Impulse

Warning: the following content contains mention of murder, solitary confinement, prison.

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By: Yujin Tchun

“When did you first feel the urge to kill?”

The guy stared blankly at the camera, muttering the words,

“As long as I could remember.”

“What did you feel when you wanted to murder someone, what makes you want to kill?”

“Humans in general. They don’t deserve to live.”

He scribbles something into his notepad and glances at the clock on the wall.

“Are you aware of the reason why you’re here?”

“I murdered 20 people and had the bodies buried in my backyard. If you are here to prove me crazy, you’re highly mistaken, because I’m not. I just harbor a deep hatred for humankind.”

He scribbled some more and gave him an approving nod, shutting his notebook and spoke softly to the inmate, which was answered by “Whatever to get me out of solitary confinement.”

The inmate walked out the small room, accompanied by three guards.

The doctor breathed a sigh of relief, looking up at the clock once more only to see that it was only noon. He still had three more consultation sessions before he called it a day. He encountered many dangerous inmates during his job at the highly secured prison, as the most accomplished psychologist in the country and had written several books on rehabilitating violent prisoners.

He dragged his body towards his office and sank into his chair, flipping through the profile of his next patients. Heaving a sigh, bracing himself for the upcoming patient who’s been incarcerated for the past six years and who he’s been counseling for the past four. But there was slight to no improvement as he refused to acknowledge his issue and merely treated these sessions as a break from his confinement.

Walking back into the consultation room, the inmate was already seated in his chair, giggling to himself. The doctor seated himself as he started the session that would lead nowhere.

He fidgeted with his pen once, twice, and then looked back at the relaxed prisoner. “Do you remember why you are here?”

“No, I really couldn’t care.” The prisoner’s light answers rang through the room. The doctor continued to question the inmate, only to receive small talks trying to change the topic. This went on for an hour until the guard knocked on the door, signaling that it was time for the prisoner to return back to his cell.

The rest of the day was just like any other day, more sessions as the day trudged on. As the clock hit 7, he walked out of his office and out of the highly secured prison, clocking out and tipping his head at the guards. He felt glad to have freedom, stepping out of the stuffy environment of the prison. He was looking forward to his weekend, doing things he liked and spending time alone.

He stopped by the grocery store on the way home, buying high quality wine for his sweet weekend to come. When he opened the door, a gust of cold air and a light stench of bleach greeted him. He then poured himself a glass of blood red wine, browsing through the selection of music before settling on one. Taking a sip of his red wine, he admired his work in front of him, brushing his hands across them. Eight dangling chandeliers, each in a different shade. A row of dangling bodies, the bodies of his family and unfortunate people that he had happened to cross paths with. Each had their lifeless eyes staring straight towards the door, body swaying with the cold wind of the air conditioning.

The doctor sat on his couch, swirling the wine in his hand as he grinned and spoke to the air. “So, doctor, what makes you want to kill?”