"How do you raise a house full of psychopaths, Dr. Choi?" she asked, looking back through the glass at the small boy.
"Very carefully, Dr. Min. Very carefully."
Oups ! Cette image n'est pas conforme à nos directives de contenu. Afin de continuer la publication, veuillez la retirer ou télécharger une autre image.
This was the hardest part. Finding the boys. But this boy...he would be the last. Then his set would be complete. Dr. Choi Minho had a small network of like-minded scientists who understood that what he was attempting was worth the risks. The woman beside him, Dr. Min, was new to the process. She was a second year resident who worked directly under Minho's good friend Key.
"Age?" Minho asked.
The young girl shook her head, hesitant. "Near as we can tell, around six."
He was used to the trepidation. What they were doing was illegal. Some might even say it was unconscionable. Minho saw it as a necessary evil. "I promise, this is in the boy's best interest," he assured her. "He should be around people like him, people who understand how to meet his specific needs."
They both looked past the glass to the boy who sat at the table. He was calm in a way no child should be. He had a stillness Minho had only ever seen in predatory animals and military trained snipers.
"Medicated?"
Once more, she shook her head. "No. When he's alone, it's like he simply...powers off. Goes into his own head. It's common in children who've endured the type of trauma he's been through."
Minho had seen it before. Too often. The child's chart said he was found when police responded to a murder-suicide. He'd been tied to the radiator for such a prolonged amount of time that the rope marks on his ankle were now a permanent ring of scars.
He wasn't the only child found in the home, each filthy, neglected, and in distress. But the other two were young enough that they might still have a chance at a normal life. But this boy? At this age? Attachment disorder had already set in. He knew from experience it was impossible to reverse.
Minho studied the boy's unnaturally pale skin, husky blue eyes, and inky black hair. If he was put up for adoption, there was a very good chance he'd be picked almost immediately. He was six but could easily pass for younger. Families always wanted the young, white children, especially boys. They'd have no idea what they were taking into their homes. Not until it was too late.
He sighed. "Diagnoses?"
Dr. Min folded her arms across her chest. "Officially? Oppositional defiant disorder, conduct disorder, attachment disorder, post traumatic stress disorder."
"Unofficially?"
She cut her gaze to him before quickly returning it to the boy, like she was afraid to take her eyes off him for too long. It was probably a good instinct to have.
"He shows increasing signs of psychopathy. He lies seamlessly, he's charming when he wants something, funny, calculating. His inappropriate touching of adults indicates prolonged abuse. He doesn't actively attempt to harm himself or others, but he shows no compassion for others' suffering. Unsurprising given his living conditions."
