Therapy


Here’s a secret about my father Nathan Green. He was shooting blanks. Well, not complete blanks, he suffered azoospermia the leading cause of infertility in men. Most men when they ejaculate are sending out thousands of swimmers, but Nathan was doing good to send out a few dozen. I’m an only child not because I’m a psychopath, but because it took a lot of trips to the doctor and frozen sperm and IVF to create me.

For a long time, I questioned my parentage. Unlike Malachi and Aislinn, I do not have a long line of psychopaths on either side of my family. At one point, shortly after my mom was murdered, I even accused Nathan of not being my father and I demanded a DNA test. After all, The Doctor Slaughterer had murdered my mother specifically because of Nathan.

The tests arrived in the mail. It was 99.94% sure that Nathan was my father. It was only 89.2% sure that my mom was my mom. Looking back, I was such an asshole teenager. But I was different and I didn’t want to be.

My IQ was 165, I had synesthesia, I was a psychopath, and some psychopath had murdered my mother. I didn’t put a ton of effort into therapy. You can’t give a psychopath a magic pill or talk therapy and cure them. I was fourteen and angry at the world. I considered killing myself several times.

And even though I had been an asshole to Nathan for months, probably years by this point, Nathan is the one that threw me a life preserver and pulled me in. He and some other law enforcement officers were starting a vigilante watch group to stop the serial killer population from exploding out of control. He took me with him with Imogene’s blessing to one of their boring ass meetings in some tiny town no one’s ever heard of. Or at least, that was my thought when we boarded the plane headed to some god forsaken state that no one could identify on a map.

We checked into a really nice hotel called The Renaissance at the Stadiums. Fourteen year old me, didn’t know that one day, adult me would be sad the hotel had been sold and was now another chain of crappy Hiltons or that I would feel nostalgic everyday as I drove past it and I would drive past it nearly every day I was home, because adult me lives less than seven miles from it.

It was at that hotel and inn the week that followed that my real therapy would begin and I would meet some people that would change my life in ways I couldn’t fathom. The man that met us at the airport didn’t look like a cop. He was short first off and he looked way too young to be anything other than a rookie. And he had a teenager with him, who was taller than he was, but the resemblance was unmistakable. He drove us from the Kansas City International Airport to the hotel in Raytown. He wanted us to put our luggage away and we had to pick up his wife he said.

I had serious doubts about this man, about my father’s involvement with him, and the teen who was a few years older than me. The thing that bugged me was I didn’t immediately dislike any of them, which was my normal reaction to people. The man had an accent I couldn’t place, but for some reason, I liked him. I felt like he understood me with just a look.

The teen introduced himself as Eric and he was the man’s son. He apologized for his father’s accent and said his father was the first generation born here instead of Scotland and when he got angry, he was basically unintelligible because the accent got so thick. By the time Eric and I got my luggage stowed in a room, the room I’d be sharing with him, I liked him. He was easy going and personable. He talked about his sisters, his mom, his dad, and my dad. He’d apparently met my dad several times. And he told me he was glad I was finally old enough to come with Nathan and he’d been looking forward to meeting me.

The woman Eric introduced as his mom was taller than his father by about an inch and she was stunning. Logically, I knew she was about the same age as my dad, but I still would have bought an issue of Playboy with her in it. Yet, in some ways, she reminded me of my own mother. She carried herself with a grace and poise most women didn’t have. And she contributed to the conversations that would happen over the next five days and she had some strong opinions.

We were staying in the hotel, but we spent our days meeting in someone’s house. His name was Harry Burns and he worked for the CIA. Him and Myrna (Eric’s mom) seemed to know each other very well. I was the first order of business, which was weird. There were about fifteen people in the house. Myrna and Harry Burns’ wife were the only women. Eric and I were the only teens and Eric was sixteen or seventeen.

It wasn’t my father, but Donnelly that introduced me to the group. And it was a weird introduction. He stood up, put his hands on my shoulders and said:

“Well, it’s finally happening. We’ve finally gotten our second high functioning psychopathic teenager; Caleb Green. Once my last two get old enough, we’ll have assembled the strongest serial killer fighting force ever seen.” I didn’t know who he was talking about at that moment. I would learn later from Eric that Eric’s younger sister was a psychopath and that she had a best friend named Malachi. I wouldn’t meet either of them for a handful of years yet.

I spent a lot of time that week talking one and one with Donnelly, Myrna, and Eric. Sometimes, Nathan sat and listened in, but most of the time he didn’t. Donnelly and Eric were both a high functioning psychopaths, like me. And like me, they both had something weird about them. For me, it was synthesia, for Donnelly it was a lack of aging. He said he’d looked exactly the same since he was sixteen, which is why I had thought he was so young when I’d met him at the airport. Donnelly told me his father didn’t seem to age either. And Eric was born to be a sniper. He could fire and reload a rifle faster than anyone he knew and he could predict movements within a crowd with scary precision. Harry Burns and Myrna had been testing him out on a firing range the last year, the CIA wanted him. He said his uncle was just as good as him at it, if not better, but Harry said his uncle was only about half as fast as Eric and less accurate with long distance shots and predicting movement in a crowd.

I wasn’t sure why I had been brought there at first. The second night though, my father explained it. My mother had been researching the brains of high functioning psychopaths for years. MRIs, CT scans, motor function testing, mapping of neurons, all sorts of things. She’d even done some of those tests on me. She had wanted to wait until I was fifteen, for me to meet this group, but since I’d been spiraling out of control, dad had decided to do it early.

He’d brought me to prove I wasn’t alone. There were others like me. We had slightly different skills, but we were all the same, we were all high functioning psychopaths with special things about us; be it synesthesia or a lack of aging. And he told me, I was the second smartest person in that room, only Myrna had a higher IQ at 183. But that would change. The two psychopaths Donnelly had mentioned were both geniuses too. As was Eric and Donnelly and Harry Burns. I would get all their phone numbers at the end of the week, my dad told me and I would be able to call any of them at any time, because sometimes Nathan didn’t understand what I was or wasn’t feeling, but Donnelly and Eric and Harry would always get it. Even Myrna would get it, despite not being a psychopath, although he smiled and said he had some doubts about her.

I put the phone numbers away, unsure I’d ever use them. But we’d only been home about three days when Donnelly Clachan called me; just to chat. A few days later, Eric called me. I stopped going to therapy. I didn’t need it. I was learning self control from weekly phone conversations from Donnelly. And every three or four months, the entire group would meet and they would bring case files of victims they suspected were killed by serial killers. That was Myrna’s specialty. Her and Harry and another man named Reggie were compiling data using the CIA and NSA databases to try to find serial killers. Myrna was given the raw data to sift through and she could find patterns that no one else could find.

And my dad was correct. Myrna may or may not have been a psychopath, I leaned towards not, but she understood them better than any person I’d ever met, even Donnelly. Malachi attended one meeting before Donnelly was murdered. We really hit it off. We were both applying to colleges at the time. And we both got accepted to the same one, studying criminal justice and psychology.

It was Eric that taught me some psychopaths are alphas and some aren’t. And some can stamp down their desire to control and dominate if the situation met their approval. It was the last thing he taught me before he went to prison. Malachi needed a beta or Malachi would end up a serial killer. He’d never been able to attain the impulse and rage control that Eric and I had attained. He needed someone to help him control it. Unfortunately, all he had was Aislinn and she was not good at it, because she was more alpha than he was and in many ways he hated her for it.

I met Aislinn Clachan for about five minutes at her father’s funeral. It was our first meeting. And I remember thinking, a fourteen year old should not be so beautiful. She was every bit as stunning as her mother. But it wasn’t just her looks, it was her poise and her brain. She was also terrifying. I thought this was a built up feeling from hearing stories from Malachi and Eric, but she really was terrifying. I knew just looking at her that if I crossed her, she’d cut out my heart and show it to me while laughing. I think I fell in love with her that day, just like I’d instantly gotten a crush on Myrna Clachan the day I met her.

Malachi and I managed to get a dorm room together and I mentioned to him that I loved her. We had a huge fight; punches, bleeding, threats to kill each other. And then it stopped and Malachi blinked at me and said something that would break my heart:

“We can both love her as much as we want, she’ll never love us back, not in the way we want. Not me, not you. Not anyone. Aislinn is as incapable of being sexually attracted to us as we are of being sexually attracted to squid. She’s just not a sexual being. God knows, I tried when I was younger. Donnelly once sat me down and explained what asexual means; it’s like being heterosexual or homosexual, except it’s a lack of sexual attraction. She can romantically enjoy our company, but not if it involves physical or sexual expectations or contact. So, if we continue to fight over her, we’ll kill each other for nothing, because as much as I would love to change her, I can’t. And you can’t either. And she’d most likely be mad at the winner and kill them.”

I’ve tried to avoid her as much as possible since then. I still love her with all my heart. And she doesn’t understand that I could live my life by her side and never expect any physical contact with her and be just as happy as if we were having sex three or four times a week. I like sex, but I love Aislinn more.

But that’s not what this is about. It’s about Donnelly and Eric and Nathan and me. I’ve lost both my parents to serial killers now. The US Marshals ordered me into therapy, but at least my therapist is Lucas and he doesn’t expect me to do much in therapy except talk. And he says the years I spent with Donnelly and Eric made his job easy; because they taught me how to process my rage and how to maintain my control. I do better as a beta, I do best as Malachi’s beta. When I’m helping him control his rage, my own rage is quieter.

And Xavier, Xavier found my parents were not psychopaths like Donnelly Clachan, but each of them carried a handful of the genes he’s identified as psychopathic genes. He has a term for them; partial psychopaths. They didn’t carry enough of the genes to be full blown psychopaths, but they each carried enough of them to have some side effects of it. He even found some notes in my mother’s research about her thoughts on it and how she was fairly sure my father was close to being a psychopath. She wasn’t sure it was genetic, but she was sure that Nathan Green was almost a psychopath and didn’t know what had stopped him from becoming a full psychopath like me. But she was looking at our brains, not our DNA.

And I agree with mom and Xavier. Nathan was almost a psychopath. My mom was also more distant than most mothers. She was nothing like Myrna for example, my mom was colder and more clinical even with me and terribly hyper logical. Traits I see in Aislinn.

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