"Hello Miko. How are you doing today?" his therapist asked. The twelve-year-old stared blankly at the ceiling. "Had any dreams lately?" she continued. "No." "So you've been taking your medication." "Yes." "How do you feel?" He sighed. "Ok." "Have you been doing what I've recommended?" "Yes." She ticked another box on her notepad. "Good. Anything you want to tell me?"
"I keep thinking about the latest victim."
She peeked at her patient, the point of her pen on a tick box. "She was in my class. Had freckles. Short. Sandy blond hair. Missing a tooth. Looked different in the poster featured on the news." He finally faced the therapist. "I plan on finding her."
She sighed. "Miko, dreams aren't the most reliable form of evidence. They can be disputed." "No more than a human witness." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm trying to help you." He tilted his head, almost mocking her. "Just like everyone else." "Miko, I'm worried. You insist on this belief that you can find the victims and you know who's responsible. No such thing is possible." "No one's ever tried," he snapped. "Miko Lang, do you want to continue this session?" she shouted. He didn't say anything. She closed her book. "I think that's all for today." He turned back to the ceiling as she packed her stuff and made her way to the door. "Good day Miko." She exited the room.
She passed Miko's mother, acknowledging her with a faint nod. The latter had a puzzled look. Only a few footsteps later and she made it to her car. As soon as she sat down, she sighed. Why did all of her sessions end like this? Why was he so obsessed with the kidnappings? So far there have been no leads or evidence. The victims had disappeared into thin air. She adjusted her rearview mirror and placed her key in the ignition. It roared to life. Putting it into gear, she drove out of her parking spot. Suddenly she slammed on the breaks. It was Miko. He was standing in front of her car. His mother was now running onto the scene.
She rolled down her car glass and leaned her head out of her vehicle. "What do you think you're doing?! I could have killed you!" she yelled. He just stared with those unnerving dead eyes. He walked around to her side of the car and handed her a folded piece of paper. She took it from him and unfolded the note to see what it said.
Thanks for the session.
She kept her eyes glued to the page, confused about the contents of the message. Then a thought crossed her mind. "Wait, how did you-"
"Miko! You know better than to stand in front of moving cars!" His mother was scolding him. "Sorry mother. I forgot." "Forgive my son. He's a little...eccentric," the woman smiled apologetically. "Oh that's fine. I'm glad I didn't knock him down." "You finished earlier than usual. Did something happen?" his mother asked. "Oh no. He just didn't have much to talk about. Just keep giving him the medicine." The woman nodded. "See you next Monday," she waved. The therapist waved back then rolled up her glass and continued to drive. Miko just watched the car until it disappeared.