Unethical

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Sarah

I come into work and sit down at my desk. A paper glares up at me from the smooth oak surface. I pick it up and see that the court has assigned a new client to me. Great.

These are my least favorite types of clients. Instead of choosing to seek help on their own, they’ve been forced to meet some psychiatric quota for a problem they refuse to acknowledge. Or worse, a problem they acknowledge and refuse to change.

They don’t want to be here. They often have little interest in bettering themselves because they don’t think anything is wrong with them. The world has wronged them , not the other way around. There’s little worse than sitting across from a smug ex-con who thinks the entire justice system is out to get them.

What do you even talk about with patients like that? It’s usually clear as day that there is something wrong with them. The justice system is out to get them because they need to be gotten, and most of them should still be in prison because they haven’t made the progress needed to integrate successfully back into society.

But the prisons and jails are too overcrowded, so here we are.

His name is Maxim Jankowski. His intimidating first name creates a vision in my mind. Tall. Tattooed. Scary. I’m pretty certain there’s a serial killer with the same first name. Maybe that’s why it creates such a malevolent vision in my mind.

I look through his charges. He’s been in prison for some robberies and assaults, but nothing as bad as I expected. I’ve taken on clients who are killers. The worst one was a man who killed his own child.

Maybe he won’t be as bad as I’m thinking. Not much is worse than a baby murderer. I’m getting myself all worked up for nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time I let my anxiety take hold and drive my train of thought.

Then again, maybe the murderers are better than the others. They always come with someone from their parole office, a watchdog to keep everyone safe. Because Maxim isn’t a murderer, I’ll be alone with him in this little office, completely vulnerable and at the mercy of an ex-convict who isn’t deemed dangerous enough to warrant my protection.

I sit down at my computer and search for his name. A few news articles pop up. When I click on the first one, his mugshot fills the screen.

He isn’t as intimidating as the figure I conjured in my mind. He’s definitely tall at six foot seven, but he isn’t as bulky as I expected. Slim but muscular, with broad shoulders that make him look more rugged. Dark hair sits on his head, and it’s a mess, though the sides have been neatly shaved. His big green eyes take on a dark cast as he stares at the camera with a smirk.

Judging by this picture, I’m assuming his arrest didn’t go all that well. A shiner circles the right eye, and a cut dashes his cheek.

I read the report and see that he attempted to fight off the officers. Yeah, his arrest definitely didn’t go well. But it helps to see his face—to get an idea of what to expect before he walks into my office. Before I’m alone with him.

Before I need to try to fix everything that’s wrong with him.