Thirteen, Fourteen ... Little boy unseen (Rebekka Franck Book 7) Page 6

  As just a young boy, the man hadn’t always understand what the doctor had talked about when they visited his office, but he did remember one thing the doctor always told them. He believed that gender identity developed primarily as a result of social learning from early childhood, and that it could be changed with the appropriate behavioral interventions.

  “What’s behavioral interventions?” the boy asked his mother one day, shortly after their first visit to the doctor’s office, when they were alone in the kitchen.

  “Don’t you worry about that,” his mother answered, and kissed his forehead. “But I can tell it’s what’s gonna help your sister. I tell you, this doctor is going to change everything for us. Your sister is in the best possible hands. Things are finally looking bright for us.”

  The boy would soon enough learn exactly what behavioral intervention was. The doctor worked with a therapist, who had hair as white as snow and eyes so blue they looked purple. The therapist came to the house one day and watched the twins as they played in the yard. He observed them for hours, while their mother looked with anxious eyes from behind the window in the kitchen. Then, he grumbled and wrote on his notepad.

  The next time the therapist arrived, he spoke for a long time with their parents before he came into the yard and called the twins to approach him.

  “Let’s play a new game, shall we? I have one for you. I would like for you, Alexandra, to lie down on the grass now on all fours, then I would like for your brother to get behind your sister’s butt with your crotch against your sister’s buttocks. I want you both to do thrusting movements. Now, try that.”

  Thinking it was just a game, they obeyed the therapist, while he watched them and made notes in his black book.

  “Now, I want you, Alexandra…”

  “I’m Alex,” his sister replied defiantly.

  “No. You’re Alexandra. That is your real name. Now, I want you to lie down on your back with your legs spread, with your brother on top, and again do the thrusting movements. Now, go.”

  The exercises went on and on, once a week for years, and the therapist became a regular part of the twin’s lives, not one they enjoyed much, especially not when they were one day told to take off their clothes and engage in genital inspections, while he took pictures. When their parents protested, the therapist simply stated that it was an important part of the treatment, since childhood was sexual rehearsal play and that laid the foundation for a healthy adult gender identity.

  After that, no one questioned the therapist’s methods, since it was all in the best interest of Alex, but the boy saw how it affected his sister, how a sadness started to grow inside of her. She knew how much trouble she was to her family, how much they wanted to change her, and that sowed a seed of self-loathing that soon started eating her from the inside. Not only would she cry at night, she also started hurting herself with whatever she could get her hands on. Once, he found her cutting herself with scissors. She was sitting in her bed at night, just letting the blood run from her wrists onto the bed, soaking the sheet. Terrified, he pulled the scissors away, then grabbed her in his arms and held her tight.

  “Don’t EVER do that again!”

  Alex tried to pull away while crying, “I’m an alien. I am an ALIEN!”

  “No, you’re not. You’re my sister. You hear me? I can’t live without you!”

  “How can I be your sister? I’m not a girl; I’m not a boy. If I’m not an alien, then who am I?”

  The boy had no answer for that.

  20

  “I can’t believe you.”

  We were driving across the bridge leading to Enoe when I had finally calmed down enough to talk. Sune sat with his camera between his hands. He didn’t look at me.

  “I just wanted to have a little fun,” he grumbled. “Jeppe came over and asked if I wanted to go. Geez. Calm down, would you?”

  I took in a deep breath and remembered my dad’s advice.

  Don’t make a big deal of it, I told myself. It’s not like he did anything really bad. It’s not like he cheated on you.

  But it felt like it. I guess that was why I reacted like I did. I felt like he was slipping away, like someone was pulling him out of my hands. Someone younger and more fun.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just didn’t want you to miss out on this assignment. And I hate when you don’t answer your phone. Ever since the accident, I’ve been so scared of something happening to you or the kids. I guess it’s just what happens when you realize how fast your life can change, how fragile your life is…”

  I paused and thought about David. We had talked about this yesterday at the port. I was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. I hadn’t told Sune I had been with David. It was wrong.

  “Sune…I…”

  I didn’t get any further before Sune interrupted me. “Sometimes you act like you think you’re my mother. I really don’t like that. It’s got to stop, Rebekka. I’m a grown man. I’m allowed to do what I want to.”

  “You’re right,” I said, as we reached Enoe and drove towards the beach. It was one of those gray January days where the sun simply didn’t bother to peek out through the thick layer of clouds. It would set in the early afternoon anyway, so I couldn’t really blame it.

  “I’ll get better at this, okay?”

  “Jeppe even says that you…”

  “Wait a minute…Jeppe?” I said. “Is that where all of this is suddenly coming from?”

  “No. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Jeppe just said yesterday that he thought it seemed like you were my mother.”

  “Well, stop acting like a child, then,” I said.

  I stopped the car in front of a lot. The foundation for the house was almost in, and five workers were working on finishing it. I spotted a couple that I believed had to be the future owners of the country’s first sand house.

  “Excuse me?” Sune said. “Who is it that takes care of the kids every morning and makes sure they get to school? Who picks them up when you’re too busy? Who does all the housework at home? Who grocery shops? Who vacuums and cleans and washes all the clothes?”

  I exhaled and forced a smile as the couple approached us. I had spoken to them over the phone and arranged for them to meet us there for the interview.

  “I know, baby. I know you do most of the work, especially lately, since you haven’t had so many assignments. I know you do. And I appreciate it. I truly do. I’m sorry.”

  I looked at him. Our eyes locked.

  “Okay then,” he said and smiled. “All I’m asking is to be allowed to have some fun now and then.”

  “Got it.”

  “Now, let’s shoot this baby, so I can get back to Jeppe.”

  Sune jumped out of the car while I looked at him.

  Get back to Jeppe?

  I couldn’t help feeling that pinch of jealousy again. The guy had been in our lives for two days now, and already Sune was more excited about hanging out with him than me. I mean, of course he was allowed to have friends. I could hardly be angry about that.

  I shook the feeling and exited the car. The couple building the sand house approached me and we shook hands.

  “Rebekka Franck, Zeeland Times. This is my photographer, Sune. If you don’t mind, he’ll be shooting pictures while we speak. So, you’re building a house of sand? How on earth did you come up with that idea?”

  21

  “YOUR ONE o’clock is here, Doctor”

  “Let him in,” the voice sounded from the intercom.

  “You can go in now. It’s through that door,” the secretary said.

  The man rose to his feet and walked to the door. He paused as he laid his hand on the handle and pulled it down.

  “Welcome,” the therapist’s voice said as he entered.

  They shook hands.

  “I’m Dr. Korner. Please sit down.”

  The man did as he was told and sat on the couch. He put his backpack on the floor.

  “So, have you ever seen
a therapist before?” Dr. Korner asked.

  The man repressed a smile. “You could say that.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “I saw one…in my childhood.”

  Dr. Korner noted that in his notepad. “I see. So, you’re familiar with how this works, then?”

  “Believe me. I know how this works.”

  “Good. Good.” The therapist ran a hand through his white hair. It had become thinner over the years. The eyes were the same. Only now they were hidden behind thick glasses.

  “I take it you wonder about the way I look. That’s okay. Most people do. I usually talk to them about it on their first visit here. Yes, I am an albino. It affects my vision, and I have to be careful when being in the sun. Other than that, I’m perfectly normal. Now, that’s about all I will be talking about myself in this room. Let’s hear more about you, Alexander. What brings you to my office?”

  The man stared at the therapist. He could feel the baton in his pocket, pressing against his leg. He had left the uniform at home today, and only brought the toys.

  “It’s okay. Take your time. Deciding to see a therapist is a big thing. Opening up and telling your story to a stranger can be hard.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind telling my story; the problem is, you already know it,” the man said.

  Doctor Korner looked at the man, puzzled. “I’m not sure I quite understand…Have you been here before?”

  “No.”

  “Then, what do you mean? You know what?” the therapist said. “We’ve gotten off to a bad start. Let’s try from the beginning again. Why have you come here to see me?”

  The man smiled again, then pulled out the gun and pointed it at the therapist.

  “I have come here to kill you.”

  Dr. Korner gasped and jumped up from the chair. He opened his mouth, trying to scream, but the man moved quickly and grabbed him. He pressed a pair of rolled up socks into his mouth so he couldn’t scream. Then, he placed a piece of duct tape over his mouth to keep it in. The therapist screamed, but nothing but muffled sounds came out. He struggled to get out of the man’s grip, but had no success. The man pulled away his glasses and stared into the therapist’s eyes.

  “Take a good look at me. You’ve seen these eyes before. You’ve seen these eyes begging you to stop, pleading you to leave them alone, haven’t you? Well they’re not the ones pleading anymore.”

  The man forced the therapist to his knees before he pressed the gun to his temple; his hand was shaking in anger. The therapist was sweating heavily and trembling in fear. His eyes appealed for mercy.

  I’m not a girl! I’m not a girl. Who am I? The man heard his sister’s voice plead in his head.

  The man was inclined to simply pull the trigger and finish the therapist right here and now. At least he would never be able to hurt anyone else. But the man had a greater plan for him.

  “Now, you listen to me, you asshole. You destroyed my sister’s life. Do you know that? You destroyed her. That is why you must die today. That is why I will kill you, but first you have to do as I say. I have a little exercise for you to do. Do you hear me? The faster you do as I tell you, the faster this will be all over, and the less you will suffer. Do you understand me?”

  The therapist nodded while trying to speak. He whimpered behind the gag.

  “Good. Now, I’ll hand you something, and then I’ll need you to put it on.”

  The man opened the backpack while still pointing the gun at Dr. Korner. Looking at him made so many bad memories resurface, and the man’s hands were shaking heavily as he pulled out the red dress and black stilettos. He threw both on the floor in front of the therapist.

  I’m an alien. Nobody wants me!

  “I want you to put this on,” the man said, fighting the anger filling him up from all the years of being repeatedly humiliated and tormented.

  The therapist whimpered again.

  “Take your damn clothes off, now!” the man said harshly, just like the therapist had said to him and Alex so many times.

  The therapist started undressing himself. He was crying, the wimp. Probably just trying to appeal to the man’s sympathy. But he wasn’t going to fall for it.

  I’ll never be good enough as a girl. I don’t know how to be a girl!

  “Hurry up!” the man said.

  The therapist was now naked, and the man took a picture of him with his phone. Then he told him to put on the dress and the shoes. The therapist did as he was told. The dress was too small, and ripped in places when he tried to put it on. Finally, he succeeded, and the therapist stood in front of the man wearing the beautiful dress and the stilettos. The man smiled. Tears burned in his eyes, thinking about his sister. The man grabbed a mirror from the wall, then placed it in front of the therapist. He used his cell to record a video.

  “So, take a look at yourself, dear Doctor,” he said. “Then, tell me. Are you a woman?”

  The therapist shook his head.

  “Are you a man?”

  The therapist nodded. The man pulled out his baton, then slammed it across the therapist’s face. He made the sound of a buzzer.

  “Wrong answer. Try again.”

  The therapist was on the ground. The baton had left an ugly mark. It was getting swollen.

  “Get up and try again,” the man said. “Remember, this is an exercise based on your own beliefs. What was it you used to say again? Oh, yes. Gender is learned. Gender is something that can be changed in early childhood. Something like that. Am I right?”

  The therapist got up on his knees. The man slapped him with his hand. “Answer me when I speak to you. Wasn’t that what you used to say?”

  The therapist nodded, while tears ran across his cheeks.

  “Good. Now, back to the image you carry of yourself. The image, according to your theories, can be altered with the right influence and exposure to the right things. Tell me once again. Are you a woman?”

  The therapist whimpered and looked up at the man.

  “Don’t look at me, you idiot. Look at the mirror. What do you see? Do you see a woman? Let me put it differently. Do you see a dress?”

  The therapist nodded.

  “And do we agree that women wear dresses?”

  The therapist nodded.

  “So, since you are the one wearing the dress that must mean that you are a woman. Am I right?”

  The therapist looked up at the man again.

  “Right?” the man said.

  The therapist nodded.

  The man clapped his hands, then lifted the baton up in the air and let it fall as hard as possible on Dr. Korner’s head. He fell, forcing him to fall flat to the floor with a thud. Then, he leaned over and whispered, “I’m afraid your time’s up.”

  22

  THE INTERVIEW went well, and Sune and I returned to the newspaper around noon. I wrote my article and we looked at pictures together and chose a series to send over to Jens-Ole. It wasn’t a groundbreaking story, but it was fun to do, and it would make a decent article.

  I, for one, enjoyed spending time with Sune, even though I did get the feeling that he was eager to get out of there. I wanted to drink coffee with him and discuss the case of the three bodies and how we could dig deeper into the story, but Sune was in a hurry to get out of there.

  “I’m sorry, Rebekka, but Jeppe just texted me that he’s still at the café, and since I’ve already done my job here, then…well.”

  I smiled and kissed him. “That’s fine. Go have some fun with your new best friend. Don’t forget to pick up the kids, alright?”

  “I won’t.”

  “You need me to give you a lift?” I asked.

  “Nah. I’ll walk. It’s pretty close.”

  “See you later, babe.”

  I watched as he rushed out the door. Sara pulled off her headphones and looked at me. “Where was he off to in such a hurry?”

  “He had plans,” I said, and went back behind my desk.

  “Oh, by the w
ay,” Sara said, picking up a yellow note from the sea of notes and old newspapers flooding her desk. How she ever found anything was beyond my understanding.

  “A David Busck called while you were gone.” She handed me the note.

  I grabbed it and looked at it. My heart pounded in my chest. I had thought a lot about him since yesterday.

  “Is that the David Busck? As in the incredible hunk that was captured and held prisoner in Syria last year?”

  I blushed. I had no idea why. Maybe it was the way she spoke of him. He was really quite handsome. And so sweet.

  “Yeah,” I said, while trying to avoid Sara’s eyes. “It’s probably just something work-related. I’ll call him later.”

  I tried to act like I didn’t care about it, and put the note casually on my desk. Sara grunted, then returned to her police scanner and put on the headphones. I grabbed my phone and looked at it. It had been silenced during the interview. David had called twice and left a message. I went to the bathroom and listened to it.

  “Hi Rebekka. It’s me, David. I just wanted to say thank you for yesterday. It was great talking to you again. I really enjoyed it. And I needed it. I have been feeling really bad lately, sleeping poorly and feeling anxious over the smallest things, but talking to you helped me a lot. I feel much better today. I was wondering if I could take you out to lunch today? You’re probably working, so…but anyway give me a call when you hear this. Or don’t. It’s up to you. Bye.”

  My heart was racing and I couldn’t stop smiling as I put the phone down. I exited the restroom, only to find Sara standing right outside. She looked at me suspiciously. “You’re usually never this slow,” she said. She looked at the phone. “Hm,” she grumbled, and walked past me into the restroom.

  She made me feel really bad, but I shook it the best I could. If Sune was allowed to have a new best friend, then so was I. As soon as I was back at my desk, I called David.

  “Hey, gorgeous. You hungry?”

  “I am starving. How about Italian?”

  “I know just the place.”