My Psychopath | h.s

Chapter 6

A/n: let's just ignore that I haven't updated in five centuries...

*Harry's POV*

"Thank you," she said quietly, her hand on the car door handle.

"Pleasure." I smile toothily, watching wisps of hair fly around her face as the wind from her open window blows gently.

She pauses before getting out of the car and I drum my fingers against the wheel impatiently.

Promiscuous. Lack of empathy. Superficial charm. Manipulative.

"Bye," she calls. I blink.

"Goodnight, Arabella."

Sense of self worth. Tendency to boredom.

My fingers tighten around the wheel and I fire up the car in a desperate attempt to get away, not seeming to realise that there is no escape from this mind.

This mind, which is torturing me.

Disregard to law. Psychopaths are incapable of forever masking their indifference to human life.

I cling to my head, forgetting that I am driving, just trying to make the thoughts go away.

Am I to be feared? Will I ever be able to marry, have kids? Is there anyone I can trust with this information?

Flashing lights, a kaleidoscope of noise, a heavy impact.

Blackness.

*Arabella's POV*

A man on a motorbike winks at me, with no helmet to obstruct his tousled hair.

"Hey, gorgeous."

I give him a small smile but generally ignore it, carrying on my short walk to the clinic.

I've dressed up for this more than I have for anything recently. My little, Paisley print summer dress it pressed and spritzed with my favourite perfume, my hair is styled.

I feel like a human. It's refreshing.

I turn my noisy, obnoxious phone on silent without looking at the notifications. Everyone that matters to me knows I'm busy today.

I press the button on the red brick wall and wait patiently for the hurried voice:
"Hello. Abbyville. How may I help you?"

"Uh, hi. I'm Arabella Field, here to see Dr Tesslan?"

They pause to check I am a viable customer.

"Ok, please come in."

I push the door open and enter the dingy waiting room.

Posters fill every inch of the walls. Does you child have threadworm? Do you feel anxious in social situations? Are you starting to feel the effects of ageing?

No, yes, no.

I grab a magazine and start to read an interview featuring an arrogant, over-rated pop singer who doesn't believe in global warming.

How smart.

"Arabella Field?" My doctor calls from the hallway. I get up and he smiles at me before leading me into his office.

"You look a lot better today, Arabella," he says after we're both sitting. "May I ask how you're feeling?"

"I do feel better," I say truthfully.

"What's happened between now and the last time we talked?"

"A lot. I'm back modelling again, I have a campaign with a makeup company starting tomorrow."

"That's excellent." He smiles widely.

"Yeah. I'm in a fake relationship thing as well. I'm being paid." Wow Arabella, you made that sound really normal.

He doesn't seem phased. I guess he gets a lot of whack-jobs, not just me.
"Are you comfortable with that?"

I think about it.

"Kind of. He's messed up, though." Look who's talking. "And I can't even think about a real relationship since..."

"I understand."

A/n: please vote. over and out