Villainess

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• Epilogue
  
• Acknowledgements
  
• About the Author
  

Villainess

D.T. Dyllin

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Villainess Copyright © 2015 by D.T. Dyllin

The Tik Tok Press Logo is a trademark of Tik Tok Press

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author is unlawful piracy and the theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

Cover Design by Lindsay Tiry of
LT Arts

Cover Art (Painting: Lunar Mistery) by Cora-Tiana

Tik Tok Press & D.T. Dyllin Logos by Jordan P. Fremgen of
Eye Of The River Media Design

Interior book design by
The Eyes For Editing

ISBN-13: 978-1-941126-65-3

ISBN-10: 1-941126-65-0

For more information visit:
www.dtdyllin.com

Who is to say

who is the villain

and

who is the hero?

Probably the dictionary.

~Joss Whedon

Jonah

“I love this feeling. Why do people stop doing it as adults?”

I stared at Leila unabashedly, not bothering to school my expression since her eyes were closed. She hung upside down off of my office couch, her legs hooked over the top. Her long flaxen hair pooled on the floor catching the light like spun gold. I was momentarily dazzled.
I shouldn’t be. This woman is a killer.

Her forehead scrunched up and her eyes popped open.
Emerald, they’re emerald green.
The shade hadn’t quite been captured in any of the photos I’d seen, and yet somehow I’d known they’d be that color. I idly wondered if they were contacts. “I asked you a question, Doc. Aren’t you going to respond? I have to say, I expected you to be…different.” She swung her legs around, righting herself. She bit her lower lip as she stared at me, her expression surprisingly guileless.

I gave myself an internal shake, pushing off of the door, striding over to my desk. I cleared my throat. “It wasn’t a real question, more rhetorical, or that’s the way it seemed to me.”

“I suppose you could have interpreted it that way.” She laughed, the sound light and airy. I found myself fighting the urge to respond to her with a smile. It tugged defiantly at the corners of my mouth.

I slid into my chair, the leather squeaking as I situated myself. “Mmmm… But it’s not the way you meant it. You wanted me to answer?”

“Maybe.” Leila’s gaze flicked around the room. I suddenly felt like the one under scrutiny, as if she was making all these judgments about me because of what artwork was on my walls and which diplomas I’d chosen to display.
It doesn’t matter. Her opinion of you doesn’t matter.
“Why don’t you tell me?”

“Only you know what was intended by the question. Why would I tell you if you wanted me to answer or not?”

“I don’t know, because you’re the shrink. So do some shrinking.” She paused, a small grin tipping her lips up. “I never understood that expression, or I guess it’s not really an expression but a term or slang…whatever. Do you know where it comes from?”

I shook my head. “No.” That was a lie though, I knew. I merely wanted to get a feel for her, to see if she did in fact know the answer herself and was testing me, or if she was genuinely curious. Sometimes something so irrelevant could reveal a lot about a person. I was known for my ability to read people. It was a gift. My colleagues were often amazed on what I was able to get out of patients from a few simple words.

“I Googled it once. Supposedly ‘shrink’ when referring to a psychiatrist or psychologist came from the term ‘headshrinker’, comparing the process of psychotherapy to the primitive tribal practices of shrinking the heads of enemies. But who knows if that’s the truth, just because it’s on the Internet doesn’t make it fact. I thought maybe you would know definitively.”

“Do you consider me your enemy?”

She grinned as she leaned forward to perch her elbows on her knees. “Oh, I think I like you already, Doc.”

“Why is that?”

“Because from our little exchange that’s what you pulled out of it—to ask me whether or not I think you’re my enemy. I don’t.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

“Nah. You’re just here to do a job. Why would that alone make you my enemy?”

“What would make me your enemy?”

“That remains to be seen.”

Silence fell over us. I flipped open her file, ready to get down to business. I glanced at my notes, reading over them quickly before clearing my throat again. “Why don’t we start at the beginning? Tell me why you did what you did.”

“The beginning?” She smirked, her eyes glittering with mirth. “I could, but then we’d be here forever. Instead I’ll start at the beginning of
this
story, get to the interesting parts right away. After all, everyone knows people would skim over the boring parts anyways. No one wants to hear about my childhood or any other such mundane things. They want to know about the gruesome stuff. The stuff that landed me here in your office.”

“Is it because you’re…or were an author that makes you think of everything as a book?”

“Maybe. Or it could be because of Shakespeare. You know…all the world is a stage blabbity blah.” She waved her hand in the air. “And I’m still an author. That doesn’t just go away. Even after I’m dead I’ll still be an author. My works won’t just disappear into the ether. Or maybe they will since I’ve never actually published anything.” A mischievous grin stretched across her face. “I bet I’d be an instant bestseller if I put a book out now though.” Her eyes glazed over as she lost herself in thought.

I expelled a long breath. I knew working with Leila wasn’t going to be an easy task, but I could already tell she was being purposefully difficult. I needed to figure out just how unstable she was before her case went to trial. But if she purposefully evaded, things wouldn’t fare well for either of us.

“I’m not insane. And I’m not going to try and claim insanity as a defense,” Leila said, as if she’d just read my mind, or maybe she was just really good at reading people as well. I’d already guessed that was true before meeting her. To manipulate on the levels that she did, one had to have an expert level of understanding of human nature.

“Then why did you agree to these sessions?”

She shrugged, a sad smile replacing the grin that had been on her face. “I don’t know. Sometimes things are more difficult to bear than I thought they would be. It’s hard being hated…even if I did all those horrible things for the right reasons. And I knew—I knew I’d be hated. That was kind of the point. I just thought it would be easier somehow…all of it.” She paused, sighing heavily. “I guess maybe I wanted even just one person like you to understand my true motivations. I want there to be no mistake about why I did the things that I did. Otherwise it will all have been for nothing.” She sat up, her face dropping into serious lines for the first time since I walked into the room. “At least that’s the way it would feel to me.”

“You do realize that if you are found fit for trial they’re going to seek the death penalty?”