Perfectly Imperfect

Authors note: This is a slow burn story, and will be in multiple parts. It is also my first story and I’d love to hear any feedback!

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Chapter One

I stared furiously at the blank page in front of me, catching sight of my furrowed brow on the screen. I rubbed my forehead, my mothers warnings about wrinkles echoing in my ears. This man would be the death of me.

It had been a month since I’d started my sessions with Will, and I had nothing more than a handful of notes to add to his pitiful file. He refused to engage, and would shrug nonchalantly at the mere suggestion of a meaningful conversation. It was like he wanted to torture me, as if he knew how desperately I needed to peer into his mind and just…understand. I needed to understand how perfect Will Cunningham with his perfect education, perfect life, perfect trust fund could have so easily slaughtered his perfect father.

I’d had better conversation from one of my other clients, a nine year old selective mute accused of setting fire to her school. Once I’d gained her trust through a few sessions of talking exclusively to her toy dog, Munchkin, the stuffed dog began to reply to my questions with great reflectiveness and I now considered us to be firm friends.

But Will would rather stare absently at my wall than talk to me. I knew he was smart, he’d graduated Oxford with a masters in English Lit just a few years before I’d completed my psychology course. Maybe he was too smart. He was my only client that could disarm me, catch me off guard, make me say things that made my professional self recoil in shame.

I think he enjoyed it.

There was this look in his eyes, a darkness that glinted whenever I flustered. So different from the calculating stare I had become accustomed to.

To call him a psychopath would be flattering to all other psychopaths I had encountered, for even they had slipped up in sessions, shown the slightest hint of emotion.

Not Will.

He would saunter into my office like he didn’t have a care in the world, toss his jacket on the arm of my couch before placing himself directly in the centre, his arms outstretched along the cream leather and his legs spread wide as if to take up the most space in my puny office as possible.

Then would come the smile. It was dazzling, and it was no wonder how the jury had allowed him to slip through the grasp of law enforcement. Yet there was something hauntingly strange in the way that the smile never quite reached his doe brown eyes.

I hated that despite his unfeeling eyes, sometimes, in the early hours of the morning when I couldn’t sleep I would imagine that smile was for me. I would imagine him waiting for me after work, a bouquet of roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, with that same bright smile on his face.

“Hello again, Dr. Smith” I jumped, and he laughed.

“Mr. Hanson- our session finished half an hour ago” I replied, desperately trying to hide my flustering hands.

“How many times, Mr. Hanson was my father? Call me Will”.

His tone was authoritative, and once again he’d caught me off guard. He ran his hand through his dark hair and shot me a knowing look. He liked seeing me like this, flustered and anxious.

“Will,” I mumbled, quickly exiting his file and shutting my laptop down, “how can I help you?”

It was unorthodox of me to allow him this extra time, outside of the court ordered one hour a week but I was desperate for a breakthrough in his case, and had just about convinced myself that was the only reason I secretly felt excited to see him.

“Something you said. It made me think about…other things. Do you have a minute?”

My heart pounded. A breakthrough at this point would be major, and could see my promotion pushed to the top of Dr. Harrison’s list.

“Take a seat, Will”, I tried to compose myself.

Will sat in the same way he always did, his arrogance second only to his intrigue. Only this time his doe eyes stared directly at me instead of at my white walls.

“You asked me if I feel pain. Emotional pain. Guilt, I think was the word you used,”

“Yes, that seems right. You didn’t answer that question” Thankfully, my professionalism had taken over and I had managed to return to my usual guarded self.

Will coughed.

“No I didn’t. You see, if I’d answered that question truthfully the answer would have been no. I have never felt an ounce of guilt in my life. Not when I cut my sister’s hair in her sleep, not when I pushed my brother into the deep end of the pool when I knew he couldn’t swim- just to watch him struggle before the lifeguard jumped in after him. And definitely not when I murdered my father, who by all means deserved it”

He stared at me, trying to gauge my reaction.

I didn’t give him the satisfaction, instead just nodded and waited for him to continue.

“Had I answered that question, you would have jumped for joy inside because you could label me a psychopath and be done with it. But I didn’t, because I’m not”

He still didn’t break his eye contact with me, but paused, waiting for me to push him further.

“You are right, it would have made me believe that you have psychopathic tendencies and for the most part I still do. But I’m curious to know what makes you adamant that you don’t?” I smile to soften the blow of my statement.

“I don’t feel guilt, but recently I’ve felt something new. Empathy. Now, I’ve only felt it once so I can’t be certain but I’d say that’s a pretty big argument for me not being a psychopath, despite you being so determined that I am,”

My mind whirred at a million miles an hour, trying to process everything he’d just said so I could hastily recount it on his file after he left. Part of me thought that asking him more would shut him down completely, but the other part was hopeful that this openness- being completely on his terms- could be nurtured.

“Thank you, Will, that’s a really interesting point. Can you describe when you felt this feeling?” I clicked my pen impatiently, thrilled that I’d finally discovered something useful about the infamous William Hanson.

Will smiled at me again, and maybe it was wishful thinking but for a second I believe the smile almost reached his eyes.

“Of course, Anna” I was shocked that he’d used my given name, despite it being normal practice for most of my other patients.

“It was when I realized that you’re just like me, you just don’t know it yet”

Chapter 2

He didn’t show up for his next session. Or the one after that.

I sent him an email, reminding him that missed appointments came with a fine and that he could be found in contempt of court if he didn’t resume his sessions with me immediately.

It was a Sunday morning when he finally responded. I’d slept in after a night of tossing and turning, hating myself for overreacting the way I did. I had lost what had the potential to be my greatest success story yet- the rehabilitation of Will Hanson.

But was the opening up to me a ruse, just to get under my skin again? Did he tell me what I wanted to hear, was it just another one of his mind games?

I’d reacted badly, that was true, and the perfectionist in me cringed when I recalled how crudely I’d sent him away from my office- even slammed the door behind him like a petulant teenager.

How dare he compare himself to me. He was a calculating killer, one that had narrowly avoided prison by riding on the back of his mothers money and influence over the city. She’d backed his story 100%, despite the fact he openly admitted to murdering her husband in cold blood. He’d been spiked with prescription medication. He’d had impaired judgement. It was an accident. If it was any other man, any other family, he would have been looking at 25 years and no right minded jury would believe their concoction of lies, but of course- the Hanson’s managed to weasel their way out of anything.

Even murder.

I waited a few hours before opening his email. I didn’t plan on replying, it was a Sunday and I found weekend conversations too informal, especially with someone who looked for any way of blurring my professional boundaries. But, I needed this win.

To: ASmith

From: WilliamHansonJR

Subject: Hello again

Anna,

I am sorry if I upset you in our little chit-chat.

You must know that was not my intention at all. I must say- I didn’t think you’d be so easily bothered.

After all, am I not just like every other ‘psychopath’ you’ve treated?

Sincerely,

William Hanson

****

I read his email over and over, trying to find meaning between the lines. He was taunting me again, and he was good at it. I closed the app on my phone and went to check the news instead, but the prospect of losing my most complex case kept pulling me back.

To: WilliamHansonJR

From: ASmith

Subject: Hello again

Dear Mr. Hanson,

Thank you for getting in touch. May I remind you- my working hours are 8:30-6 Monday to Friday and this is a Sunday.

Nevertheless, I am glad to hear from you. I can assure you I was not at all ‘bothered’ by what you said after our last session, merely glad that you opened up to me.

I hope we can resume our sessions as normal ASAP.

I am free Wednesday at 5, please let me know if you are available soon or the slot will be filled.

Many thanks,

Anna Smith

Criminal Psychologist

****

My heart thumped loudly in my chest like a caged bird fighting for an escape. I was breaking every rule in my well thumbed book, but Will’s brain was fascinating and I was desperate to understand him better. He replied instantly and as I waited for the email to load, I noticed that my palms were sweating at the thought.

To: ASmith

From: WilliamHansonJR

I know it’s a Sunday, Anna.

But I couldn’t go any longer thinking you were upset with me.

See, there’s that empathy you’re so fond of 😉

Wednesday won’t do, I need to see you now.

Now or never, Doctor Smith.

My place.

Be here in the next hour and I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I give you my word.

See you soon.

Will

P.S (Don’t call me Mr. Hanson again, I thought we were past that)

****

My mind raced.

How on earth he thought he could summon me- on a Sunday- to his ‘place’- was beyond me.

I was an esteemed professional, and I didn’t get that reputation from out of hour liaisons with presumed psychopaths. All on the assumption that I was desperate enough to understand his twisted mind that I would go…it was out of the question.

It took me twenty minutes of rage before I began getting ready. I had tried to distract myself and ignore the email but it gnawed at me… maybe now I understood why Mark had left me. I just couldn’t help it- the obsession with fixing broken people, the worst of the human race, the bogey-men of modern society.

It had never led me to stray this far, but Will had crept under my skin.

I briefly mulled over what to wear whilst anxiously checking the clock. Will was pedantic, and I knew the minute the clock turned the hour he’d refuse to even acknowledge me. My work clothes were in the wash, so I’d have to make do with my pile of scrappy lounge clothes or old outfits from my Uni days- although I doubted a leopard print mini skirt and lacy top would be appropriate.

I finally settled on a pair of jeans and a cream cable knit jumper- way too casual for my tastes but it was the most professional item I could pull from the sea of holey vests and stained sweatpants. I brushed my hair and pulled it into a low bun. It was auburn now, not the shocking orange it had been when I was a child, thankfully, and it had been Mark’s favourite thing about my appearance. Other than my hair I was plain, averagely attractive with an average frame and average features.

I gave myself another glance in the mirror, pinning back a few stray strangers of hair. Neatness was important to me, like my mother had said, If I can’t be beautiful at least I can be tidy and pleasant.

I pushed my plan silver studs through my ears and gave myself a once over with a little bit of body mist, Wild Lilies. It must have been my mothers, I usually used unscented products as they’re apparently the best for your skin.

Why on earth I was fussing over meeting Will was beyond me… he was a client- no more and a dangerous one at that. I should have been stressed over the thought of meeting a murderer- in private- not whether or not my mothers old body spray made me smell like an old lady.

Shit. I had fifteen minutes to get there. I checked my phone- realised it was a twelve minute drive and hurtled towards my car.

It hit me how close I lived to a murderer… and a client. I hadn’t bothered to check his address on the system until this morning, but the thought of him being so close was unsettling.

His house wasn’t what I was expecting. I suppose I expected more lavish displays of his wealth, but instead it was a Georgian house, some of the windows still bricked from the days of window tax. The front door was large and sparkling white, with a neat little door mat in front reading “welcome”.

I knocked hesitantly- no answer. Was this another one of his mind games?

My phone buzzed in my pocket- he’d texted me.

‘Let yourself in, it’s open. I’m in the garden.’

Every sensible bone in my body screamed for me to leave before it was too late. He was dangerous, volatile, manipulative. I could lose my license for this- or worse- end up dead on the marble floor like his father.

The door creaked open.

“Mr. Hanson? It’s A-” I hastily corrected myself, “Dr. Smith”

I walked through the hallway, following the sound of Pachelbel’s canon that was playing further through the house. It was one of my favourite pieces, and I couldn’t help but relax at the sound of a familiar tune. I entered the kitchen and scanned my eyes around.

That’s when I saw him through the window.

He was laying on the grass, in a pair of jeans that looked more worn in than my shabby pair. He was topples, his golden skin absorbing the sunlight on its chiselled plains. I couldn’t help but gawp…after Mark, it was the first time I’d seen a man lay like that and Mark’s pot belly had nothing on the Adonis that was Will Hanson.

I stumbled out the back door, and coughed to let him know I was there.

“Anna,” he sighed, still staring at the clouds.

“Mr. Hanson”

“Will” he corrected, bluntly.

He slowly sat up, gestured towards a bench further up the large garden and began to walk towards it.

I followed, dumbfounded by the ridiculous situation I had put myself in.

He sat, in the middle of the bench, just like he would have at my office. I stood awkwardly, refusing to squeeze in next to the half naked murderer that was before me.

“Sit,” he commanded.

“Mr. Hanson…this was a terrible idea, I’m going to go and I’d appreciate it if we didn’t speak of this again,” I pushed the words out before I had a chance to hesitate.

“Sit down, Annalise. I won’t ask you again,”

Annalise. Annalise. How on earth could he have known? If it had been Annabelle it could have been a guess but…something was wrong. I hadn’t heard that name since my mother was alive. Bile rose up in my throat and I swallowed it back down, the burning sensation less painful than the fear of what was going to happen next.

I sat beside him, narrowly skimming past his bare chest as I shuffled as far away as I could from him on the little bench.

“How-”

“You’ll have plenty of time for your questions soon, Anna. I am a man of my word, and I will answer anything you desire in good time. But firstly- take that ridiculous jumper off- it’s boiling hot and it smells like my grandmother” Will stared away from me, his voice low and surprisingly soft.

“I… I don’t think that’s appropriate,” I mumbled, my cheeks flushing red. I couldn’t run, he was faster than me and could catch me in strides. I couldn’t over power him- I’d now seen up close the extent of his toned torso and arms. I’d have to outsmart him, but he had the advantage and I hadn’t felt this vulnerable since…since a long time ago.

“Annalise. You are an incredibly bright woman. I suggest you utilise that intelligence and do exactly what I say. I know you’re scared. I know I can make you more scared. But I also know you have a determined mind that wants nothing more than to understand mine- so- do as you’re told”

I froze, but had no choice. I kicked myself for doing this to myself, it’s exactly the sort of thing I’d tried to avoid with all my rules and routines. Anna didn’t do stupid, irresponsible things. Annalise did.

I stretched my arms up and pulled my jumper off, shuddering at the thought of him seeing me like this. I had on a thin white t-shirt, and the pink lace bra I’d found in my old Uni pile was as clear as day underneath it. His gaze shot goosebumps across my body, and he smiled- that strange half smile that I couldn’t help but think about at night. He shushed me, and brushed his fingers across my arm. I hated my body for how it responded to his warm touch, like a stream of lava was coursing through my veins.

“As much as I would love to discuss how obvious your face is portraying your feelings right now, Anna, we have much more important things to talk about. You see, you may have met me just over a month ago but I’ve known you much longer than that” Will tilted his head towards the sky, his sharp jawline and slight stubble leading my eyes upwards too.

“Mr. Hanson…I-”

He snapped his head back towards me and grabbed my wrist. I yelped in fear, recoiling back like a snake.

To my surprise, he released me and for a moment his eyes looked different than I’d ever seen them before.

“Anna, my Anna, don’t be frightened. I didn’t mean to hurt you”

Was it guilt that I’d seen in his eyes? Or had he just learned to replicate that, like so many of them do?

“Don’t be scared of me, please. I’d never hurt you badly. Not…like that. I have a temper, Anna, you know this, and being called my fathers name sets it off. I’ll say it one more time, my name is Will”

I trembled, this was exactly the sort of irresponsible situation that I vowed never to get myself in again. And now I was trapped on a bench with a madman, and- had he called me MY Anna?

I’d watched a film like this- a few years ago… maybe if I played along, let him speak- I could find a way to escape…

“I never meant for this to happen, Annalise. Although- I believe you went by Lisa when we first met. It’s a shame, Annalise is such a pretty name. It suits you.

Anyway, your little outburst after I said that we were the same told me everything I needed to know. You are the right Anna, and believe me, I’ve tracked down every Anna Smith within 50 miles of here. You see, it’s tricky when you’re tracking someone with a tendency to change their name. But I suppose that’s the joy of having money, private records aren’t so private after all….

And here you are. Right where I always imagined having this conversation… and now we’re having it.

My dear Anna, I know what you did. And it’s okay, I forgive you, but a jury might not. So, dearest Annalise, I have a proposition for you”

Chapter 3

I awoke with a start. Dim sunlight drifted through the window, bathing me in a warm golden glow. I stretched on the bed, my hands grasping the soft sheets.

White sheets.

White sheets?

Panic shot through me as I realised that the sheets I had woken up to weren’t mine. Mine were navy blue, easier to clean, smarter on the bed. A sensible choice. An Anna choice.

“Annalise?”

Will’s voice boomed from the house and I sat up. I was still dressed in my t-shirt and jeans, thank god. He hadn’t done that….yet.

His footsteps crept closer and I desperately scanned the room for a possible weapon. Nothing. It must have been a guest room, it was bare except for an antique dresser and the ornate four poster bed I’d woken up in.