My heart was pounding heavier than before, and my hands were almost dripping with sweat. My body was shaking like I was freezing to death.

What would he say when I stepped inside? Would he even say something at all?

The guard took position in his regular place, and I decided to keep myself as close to him as I possibly could get.

When the door shut behind us, I looked over the small room to spot the well-known man sitting on the window sill, with his face in my direction.

A tiny smile formed his pink lips when his eyes met with mine.

The whole world turned upside down.

Without control, hundreds of butterflies began to flutter around inside my stomach. I didn't want my physical reactions to decide how I felt when I saw him. He was a psycho-killer and a violent man, so my body should not react in no other way but with fear and distancy in his proximity.

But it did.

"Beverly? Are you really here?" Brandon said through the abnormal smile placed over his lips.

It hurt to hear him speak that way. He sounded so broken and vulnerable, which I hadn't experienced before.

I was surprised. This was not what I expected.

My heartbeat got calmer, and I took a small step closer to Brandon while I decided to smile back at him.

My body did not cooperate with my brain. I didn't want to smile at him, and I didn't want my heartbeat to get calmer. That was just a sign of safeguard, and my body telling me that there was no threat against me. It was not right.

I was afraid of those feelings. They were putting me in danger. I knew about the consequences of them, because I had experienced them before.

I realized that the biggest menace in the room was myself. Not Brandon, not his actions...

"Yes, Brandon. I am really here," I mumbled with a careful and friendly voice.

All sanity slowly ran out of me as I kept looking at him.

Brandon moved from the window sill and stood up only to look at me. The smile didn't leave his face, but the look in his eyes made him appear different than usual.

Did they do something to him while I was gone? I figured. Something was wrong here.

"I missed you,"

I didn't get surprised by his words. I actually began to believe him.

Maybe he did miss me for real?

The situation with the cuts and his strong reactions towards me, did in fact make sense in some way if what he told me was actually true.

Maybe he felt something different around me, like he told me after the first weekend without seeing me?

But still, it was impossible for him to be a psychopath if he felt something like that.

I was so confused.

Without knowing what else to say, I suddenly felt the urge to actually say it back - that I had missed him too.

But that was not right.

I shook my head and tried to focus on my profession. This was just another regular session between me and my patient.

"Did you do that to yourself again because you missed me, Brandon?" I said while I looked at his left arm, where the several, freshly red wounds were placed.

It must hurt so bad. His whole arm was destroyed with frenzied damage.

It was obscene and appalling to watch.

I couldn't bear with the imagination of how much it must burn and itch when the tenuous and deep-cut wounds would heal...

I decided to leave the missing part out of the world and professionally responded to him instead.

Even if I knew the answer to my question, I wanted the words to come from Brandon himself.

"You know that's what I do when I'm without you for too long,"

My heart broke when I heard him speak, and I tried my best not to let the tears out.

What could I possibly do to eliminate the feeling of liability and guilt?

No matter how crazy it sounded, it was in some way my fault that he did that to himself, and I couldn't stand with that fact.

"Oh, Brandon,"

My voice was low with heartbreak. I had to take a break and remain in the silence for a couple of seconds before I managed to speak again.

"May I ask? Is there some way you can explain to me how you feel when you're without me? Is there someone in your head telling you to hurt yourself? Or are you doing it to ease some sort of pain? I really need to know, please tell me so I can help you, Brandon!"

Even though our earlier dramatic happening had me traumatized, this made me turn in a second. It was like I forgot all about it when I stood right before him.

All the feelings of fear and mistrust disappeared, and all my body was craving for was to help the poor, sick man in front of me.

He told me he wouldn't hurt me, and I was ready to take that chance and trust his promise.