My Link With
"Wait, you claim to be the devil's
advocate?" says Vince Taylor's psychiatrist, who gives a
questionable look while reaching for the mug on the coffee
Vince couldn't help but eyeing the
woman's breasts as if too much skin was being exposed; the doctor
buttoned her white blouse only halfway to the chest, leaving a
better view, if not completely, of her boobs for him to see. She
also wore a black skirt and a transparent pantyhose; Vince
thought she wasn't the type to comply with the dress code, which
every professional doctor should follow.
The psychiatrist swallows a mouthful
of cappuccino and crosses her legs. She continues.
"Now, Mr. Taylor, tell me why you
would think you're associated with the devil?"
"I believe the devil has chosen me to
carry out half of his work."
"Half of his work?"
"To spread evil and bring about hatred
Vince knew it wasn't prudent to see a
psychiatrist for the eightieth time; he tried all his best to
convince the doctors that he was insane and evil, a dangerous
force that must be stopped before it's too late. Vince admits
he'd killed seventy-two innocent people across the state of
Boston, without ever leaving a trace that could have hinted the
local police of his involvement. Even though he was, in fact,
aware of his actions he still couldn't act upon his will; he
believed the devil chose him for a purpose, even before
"Why would Satan choose you to carry
out his bidding, Mr. Taylor?" the psychiatrist goes on with the
"Because it's the right thing to do,"
says the fallen man.
"Why do you think it's the right thing
"Look, ma'am," Vince finally
interrupts her, "I know psychology and how psychiatry works.
Right now I don't need any of that bullshit, you hear me! I need
help before I do something bad tonight, after midnight."
The psychiatrist sets her cup on the
coffee table and leans her chest forward.
"Mr. Taylor, I'm trying to help you,
but in order for me to do that I need to know what's wrong with
Vince covers his face, wishing he
hadn't come in the first place and finally move on with his life
while killing people.
The psychiatrist stands up and walks
toward him, resting her hand on his shoulder.
"We're going to try this again, Mr.
Taylor. I promise you I'll do whatever I can to help you, but
before that, would you like a glass of water?
Vince nods and watches the woman going
over the table on which lies a bucket of ice cubes and water.
Moments later she returns with a glass of water and handed to
"Now, Mr. Taylor, have you been
sleeping well these past few days?"
"I don't sleep. The devil made me not
to sleep. The reason being, I do most of his biddings during the
"What do you do during the
"I kill someone in particular; someone
with a heavy heart."
"Yes. A person with a heavy heart
carries too much darkness and is also an opportunity to kill it
as a way to spread it. But those with a light heart are protected
Vince's claims bewildered the
psychiatrist that she couldn't fathom any of them. This compelled
her to think before continuing on.
"How can a person be judged as good or
bad based upon the weight of his or her heart? And how could
killing the bad help spread darkness?"
"Demons and other dark forces of
Satan's, including myself, are able to sense the amount of
darkness carried by the host's heart. The most powerful weapon
that makes a human unique is emotion. Having a stable emotion
guides you to the right path, but manipulating it until one can
no longer be guided will eventually go astray. This is where we
take the opportunity."
The psychiatrist swirls a black
ballpoint pen between fingers, pondering where to proceed from
"Earlier you said you were going to do
something after midnight, something terrible. Are you planning to
a kill someone with a 'heavy' heart?"
"How many have you killed, Mr.
"Seventy-two. I believe I'll be
seventy-three after midnight."
With that the woman stands up from the
chair and goes behind her office desk. On it she scans through a
pile of files and finally brings one with her. She sits and
examines the papers contained within the files.
"Mr. Taylor, according to your
background check, you seem to have no criminal record."
Vince says not a word but listens to
the sounds made by the pigeons flapping their wings.
The psychiatrist takes a moment to
wrap things up as she writes down something on a notepad.
"Mr. Vince," she finally speaks, "our
session will resume tomorrow at the same time. Dr. Timothy
Saunders will be joining, who's a well-known neurologist across
the globe. He and I will discuss with you to figure out how we
can help you cope with what you're experiencing now. As of now,
I'll prescribe you Lexapro, which is an anti-depressant, as well
as something that would help you sleep. I'll be right
The psychiatrist stands up and
immediately leaves the office. Vance had foreseen this, but even
so he decided to come not because he wanted to but because of the
little hope he has left.
The man stands up from his chair and
goes over to the doctor's desk. He opens one of the drawers and
pulls out a folder. Inside are personal documents of the
psychiatrist, including home address, bank account information,
and license for her practice. With no particular reason in mind,
Vince memorized the home address "2318 Easterwood" and makes his
way back to the chair.
Moments later the psychiatrist comes
in the room, inspects nothing unusual.
"This are your prescriptions," she
says as she gives them to him. "Take one each tonight. And call
my assistant if something goes wrong."
After that the man thanks her and
opens the door.
"Oh, and one more thing, Mr. Taylor,"
she approaches him. "Stay home tonight, after midnight."
Vince smiles with sincerity and closes
the door on his way out.
It was after eight in the evening when
Vince entered his apartment. After a quick shower he made
spaghetti with tomato sauce and meatballs. After nine he laid
himself on the sofa in the living room while reading a section of
the bible. After ten he took his prescribed medications and
resumed to his reading. Before the clock could hit eleven the man
has finally fallen to sleep.
At 11:30pm, Vince rose from the sofa
and went to the kitchen. He pulled out a kitchen knife and put it
in his jacket pocket. The man took a cab and asked to be dropped
off at 2318 Easterwood. Standing right before a small house,
Vince walked toward the door and gave two gentle knocks. It was
already 12:25am when the psychiatrist opened the door, following
a shocking look on her face.
"Mr. Taylor, what are you doing here?
How did you know my address?" Lisa Candy, her real name, was in a
"You have a heavy heart," said Vince
as he plunged the kitchen knife through her abdomen countless
times, until she was no longer alive. But her teary eyes seemed
to have witnessed the event as it stared directly at Vince
Taylor. The man was perhaps Satan's advocate.