The Monster |Slim Shady/ Eminem and Rihanna new story|

chapter one: gone

"Look, you're going to have to tell me something or this session will be pointless," Dr. Melero said, drained from yet another dreadful afternoon with Marshall Mathers, the now-notorious mass murderer.

He hadn't said a word all day. Mr. Mathers was a tough client to grow fond of– even for Dr. Melero, who always managed to have a strong bond with her patients.

"This session already is pointless. It's always pointless," Mr. Mathers sighed, drained from her presence. That had been the first thing he said all afternoon.

 "It doesn't have to be. I'm just trying to help you out here."

"You don't think I fucking hear you?" He growled, looking up into his therapist's eyes for the first time..well, ever. People would rarely see his full face.

"Pardon me?"

"Words..." He began, sitting himself up straight.

"Words  bounce off the walls as if they were on drugs here. Every word echoes through the corridors, almost as if they were trying to make me go crazy."

"We sure wouldn't want that Mr. Mathers. What are you trying to imply?" Dr. Melero asked, making sure to talk as if he was of the slightest bit of sane. She didn't want to risk him reverting back to silence.

"I hear you, Doc. I hear all the very vivid words you use to tell everyone how difficult I am. How Jesus Christ himself wouldn't be able to fix me," he spat, inching dangerously close to his therapist. She flinched, internally cringing at her choice of words towards her patient. She was about to call for assistance.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna touch you."

"I know what you want. You want me to tell you about my dream. Why I woke up screaming so loud that I woke up the whole third floor."

After seeing that Dr. Melero did nothing but slightly nod in agreement, Mr. Mathers sighed. 

"It was dark. There was thunder and lightning in the sky. I was outside. The storm didn't faze me. I needed to get to my kitchen in my home to grab a knife. I did t really know why. Something was telling me to do it before I run out of time. It was a long and eerie walk home. I stepped inside and headed straight into the kitchen. The big knife was gone. I was dumbfounded. I looked in other places for it, until I heard a voice. "Time's up!" It said. It made me want to chop my ears off. I knew who it was. I turned around, and sure enough, my father was standing there, with my big ass kitchen knife. He burned my arm with a cigarette and laughed. "Don't ya miss me son?" I couldn't take it. I caught him off guard and tackled him. I choked him to death with my bare hands. He only managed to cut me a tiny bit on my left arm with my knife, but we both knew that knife wasn't gonna save him."

"You know what's weird? You have a little scar on you're left arm. And  you're father supposedly died by being choked."

Mr. Mathers raised an eyebrow.

"Are you here to play detective now?"

"No."

"Okay then. Shut it. Besides, I was proven innocent," Mr. Mathers said, now more relaxed.

"No, you were proven insane! That's why you were sent here–cause you're a psychopath!"

Mr. Mathers did not like what she said. At all.

In a few minutes, There wasn't the slightest breath coming out of Dr. Melero's mouth. She was dead. Gone.