“Good morning, Mr. Cliff. Good to see you again.” Emilia called with a smile on her face.

Entering her room I didn’t get a hint of smoke and the fragrance she wore was mild.

“Morning.” I said nearly tripping over my own feet.

“Dear me, Are you alright?” She asked, calling to me from across the room.

I straightened myself and dusted my jacket down collecting my thoughts. “Yes I’m fine. I guess I’m going to have to start using my cane.” I said lightly disliking the idea of needing assistance. Emilia produced no sound meaning she had nothing to give as a response.

Finding my way to the nearest couch, I sat down and relaxed. “Something seems different.” I said trying to examine the room.

“In what way?” Emilia asked.

I closed my eyes not really thinking of an answer. Instead I concentrated on the void in my head. Its calming effects masking my image and consuming me whole. I never even thought to wonder why it was happening now of all times.

Emilia, knowing that she wouldn’t receive a response, produced her own. “I guess I may be different. My daughter is visiting today and I decided that for her, I wouldn’t smoke.”

“You shouldn’t change yourself to make others like you Emilia.” I said letting my words sink in. My bluntness was harsh but it was an honest opinion.

I heard Emilia chuckle and wheel herself closer. “Perhaps.How about we start today by getting into some nitty gritty details.” A slapping sound was heard directly in front of me and by opening my eyes I was met with the blurry vision of a manila folder on the table before me.

“Female, eleven, drowned in her bathtub. Male, twelve, poisoned with fertilizer. Any guesses on who killed them?” Emilia challenged.

I shrugged and turned away looking to the light coming from the closed window.

“Megan was found by her parents. The door to the bathroom was left open and they reported footprints. Unfortunately, they soon retracted that report by simply saying they were delirious.” Emilia was quiet again and I felt her eyes tracing over my face.

I was stone cold and I knew she wouldn't get anything from looking at me.

“Sam was found by the neighbor's dog. Police assume it is the same killer because these two children only lived three houses away from each other. A few eye witness reports were brought in but then almost immediately retracted.”

“What a shame.” I said irritably brushing my hand through my hair.

Emilia’s breathing stopped. I listened closely for it to begin but when it didn’t I turned to look in her direction. Her body was still. I continued waiting.

“Do you know nothing? Honestly?” She whispered. Her voice was so quiet that I even had to lean in to catch her words. “These are children Mr. Cliff. What could they have possibly done to deserve to get murdered?” Her tone was sharp and I leaned back letting a smile set onto my face. I loved this side to her. So direct and cold. “How can you smile when I just told you children were killed. Mr. Cliff, how can you not understand the pain this causes people. You may be psychotic but can’t you pretend to show a little sympathy?”

“Ask the killer for sympathy.” I said.

“You are the killer!” She screamed, throwing the papers at me. They flicked and jolted in different ways. Their vibrations against the air sounded similar to birds' wings.

Once they settled I started to laugh finding the situation amusing.

“Now you laugh? What is so funny about this situation?” Emilia asked dumbfounded.

I couldn’t help my bubbly expression to soak through the lines on my face. My heart beat could be heard and it reminded me of their deaths. Emilia wheeled herself away from me and I continued laughing letting it grow and subside only to then grow once more. I couldn’t control it, it was bliss.

The door behind me clicked and I knew Emilia had left the room. Her smell lingered softly and I slowly began to take control again.

Taking in a deep breath I licked my lips. A high pitched sound was suddenly heard and I looked for the source. What a smart girl. She purposefully got upset just to leave the room. When she did she left the recording device just in case I was provoked to spill my thoughts.

“Ms. Emilia.” I began, The clocks’ ticks filled the room, hammering inside my head. “I applaud your performance. Why do you ask such harsh questions? The ones you know I have no answer to. And how could you ask such an impossible thing from me? Fake sympathy?” I stopped for a second thinking about what that would be like. “I’m not quite sure if I can do that. You’d have to have a heart. Maybe those children didn’t deserve to die, but I can’t help but laugh. It’s funny to me. I like the way it gets my heart going. You criticize me for not feeling anything but why can’t I criticize you for feeling too much?” I took a long breath and added a thought, “Perhaps I’m not the only one faking emotion here.” I stopped talking and simply thought for the remaining of my time.

“Emilia. I am not the bad guy.” I stated just as the door behind me creaked open and in came a man.

“Hello Mr. Cliff. My name is Sean Ariz. I will be taking place for Emilia for the rest of the time.”

I nodded and frowned at the man. His voice was soft but had the ability to be expelled loudly.

“Do you have any questions for me? We only have about ten minutes left.” He asked, wanting me to take control of the conversation.

I crossed my legs and cocked my head. “Will Emilia stop seeing me?” I asked.

“No sir. She just needed some time for herself. Plus her daughter is showing up sometime today.” He responded.

I partly wished I could see what the man looked like but knew that any effort I could try to make would be wasted.

“Tell me about Autism.” I demanded politely.

The man shifted and took in a short breath, “May I ask why first?”

“There is a family that moved in down the hall from I. Their child, Clance is his name, has Autism. I would like to know more that way I can help the boy if need be.”

“Of course, I would first like to say it would be best if you simply stayed away from the kid. But Autism, or autism spectrum disorder (ASD), refers to a broad range of conditions characterized by challenges with social skills, repetitive behaviors, speech and nonverbal communication. Studies have shown that one in about fifty-four children will have this disorder. This of course, makes it common.”

“I see” I was quite impressed by how informative this man was, but still wasn’t too keen on his character. He is far too friendly and I assume he knows exactly what kind of person I am. He’s comfortable and confident, Emilia was very much like this but she was able to easily slide into a safe category. He, one the other hand, is difficult to read.

“Mr. Cliff. If I may,” Sean started letting a thin grin spread across his lips. I nodded to let him continue. “What made you become a teacher?”

I closed my eyes and thought for a bit back to when I was a simple man with no lingering title of murderer.

“I don’t quite remember. I’ve always enjoyed the idea of being in control and influencing other human beings. Teaching just happened to be a way to have that ability.”

“What other choice would you have chosen if not teaching?” He continued pushing the conversation.

“Well, in my younger years, like when I turned seventeen I was a cab driver.”

“Really?” Sean asked, coming closer in his seat.

I hummed nodding my head, “And by the time I turned twenty two I went to school and became a teacher. I never really had any other goal in life. Teaching was just something that I always wanted.” I finished. Sean cocked his head and let his eyes fall to his hands. He then sat back and sighed lightly. Not in an annoyed way but in a way you would alone as if being content and having nothing to do but sigh.

I forced myself to yawn to show the boredom I was getting from the silence. I knew he noticed my hint but did nothing to continue a topic. This showed me that the man was dull and had no intention of going further with these two cases. What a shame. They were quite fascinating. In fact they were one of my earlier works. Children for some reason were easy to obtain and kill. And their expressions were what I drank up everytime. They could satisfy my hunger for adrenaline for months.

“How about we stop here for today. Be safe on your walk home and next week Emilia should be waiting for you. It should be best to simply forget today’s conversation with her. I am guessing it will make the transition smooth.” Sean suggested.

I stood up and waddled my way to the door awkwardly.

“Are you alright?” Sean asked quickly coming to my side to assist me.

“I am, my sight is leaving quickly. Do you have a cane I could borrow perhaps?”

Almost instantaneously a man came beside me taking my hand and placing a wooden cane into it.

“Ms. Emilia said you might need this.” He explained. I smirked and thanked both men before exiting the hospital. I hailed a taxi but just before entering my phone went off.

I brought my phone to my ear and answered. “Hello?”

“Ah, Mr. Cliff.”

“Hello, Ms. Wadworth. Is something wrong?” she sounded distressed and frightened.

“Uh, You need to come home its….” A plate could be heard shattering from the other line and I waited for a response.

“Melony?” I questioned the phone.

There was some rustling on the line before her breathing came back. “Chrysanthemum…”

My body went stiff and my blood ran cold. The same amount of adrenaline I would get from murdering a helpless victim I got from a single word. But this was different. This was the feeling I received when I was a child waiting hopelessly for my mother to beat me. This was the feeling I got when I almost died.

Arriving inside my apartment Ms. Wadsworth was sitting beside the couch. Her eyes swollen and filled with fear.

“I-I didn’t,” She started.

“Leave.” I said, cutting her off. I didn’t want to hear the excuses or complaints. She arose from her spot and hurried from the apartment. As she went, a white towel slipped from her waist and fell to the floor.

I was now alone in my apartment. The doors closed, windows and shades darkened.

I leaned over and picked up the towel grasping it within my fingers. But instead of raising it to me I crouched down on my knees and went to it.

I heard my breathing. The way it echoed inside my head and ears. I felt my chest rise and fall with the weight of something I couldn’t name.

Now crawling on the floor, I made my way to my mother who laid motionless on the couch. Her body, cold and exposed. Her hair was twisted back and her eyes dully open. Her lips parted with small clumps of foam dripping from them.

On the floor was an assortment of white pills and next to them was an orange bottle giving its prescription.

I leaned back against my personal chair and looked at my mother's body.

“How unfair.” I whispered. Something warm slipped from my eyes and I felt my skin tighten. I looked away from my mother’s body. “How dare you. How dare you leave.” I rolled forward on my knees and started using the towel to clean up her face. I forced her eyes closed and gently laid the now, stained towel over her white expression.

“I hope you suffered. I hope you could hear everything. All the things I’ve done were because of you. I wanted to be here when you died. But I missed it. Do you even remember what you did to me?”

My chin itched and my eyes burned.

“You beat me. You squeezed the life from me. You trained me to feel nothing. You taught me to give up on people. To see the world through closed eyes. You murder yourself like you murdered me. How dare you.”

I took in a quick breath and screamed, “How Dare You!”

A knocking came from my door and I somehow could tell who it was. “Not today Clance, go home.”

His small feet fled from my door and I was now drowning in the darkness of my apartment. My eyes laid on the white within my hands and I fell backwards letting my spine lay against the ground. Now facing my ceiling I could concentrate on what was happening to my body. A chemical reaction pushed my eyes to produce tears. Those tears are connected to the running of my nose and my throat was dry harshly making me gasp at the cool air. My chest tightened and I felt pain.

I was crying. I couldn’t understand why. I was happy she was gone. The first day passed quietly. The second day I slept. I was exhausted and motionless. The third day I ignored the calls. The fists against my door. I ignored my growling stomach and the pleading inside my head.

Ms. Wadsworth, who had a key, came by on the fourth day and set a plate of food beside me. She didn’t speak, or move anything. She simply came in then left locking the door behind her.

I lost track of time and when I opened my eyes again I found two different flowers placed beside me.

One, a white chrysanthemum. Its leathery petals spread outward and around in every direction. The soft yellowness in its center fading lighter as it grows out into the white. Seemingly hundreds of petals flowing from the tip of the stem could be seen. The flower itself meant many things but one in particular called to me.

Death.

Ms. Wadsworth and I had a code. When my mother was dying that would be the word to say. ‘Chrysanthemum’.

Beside it, laid another white flower. Its petals were bigger and twisted delicately into one another. Looking at it straight on, the petals seemed triangular. It was a white rose. Its center swirled beautifully and I was lost in its grace.

The white rose also had many meanings but in this time one had true fulfillment.

A knock came from my door and for once I actually gave a response.

“Hello?” I called sounding ragged and worn out.

“Mr. Cliff, it's Sean Aliz. I’m here with the NYPD. Can you please open the door?”

I slowly dragged my body from the ground and used the couch as support. The room was extremely blurry but I found my way to the front door.

Unlocking it, I twisted the handle letting the hallway light seep into my apartment.

“Afternoon Mr. Cliff. Do you remember who I am?” asked Sean. I revolted against his smile. I nodded rubbing my eyes. By my touch I knew they were swollen and red.

“Mr. Cliff, you missed your meeting yesterday with Emilia. We have come to check on you. Is everything alright?”

My head dropped and I closed my eyes. Two officers brushed past me and found my mother’s body on the couch. I didn’t put up a fight at their unlawful act because I already knew they had deducted me from her death.

“Ms. Wadsworth informed Emilia of what happened. I’m sorry for your loss. Would you like to come to the facility or stay here and await Emilia’s arrival?”

A body bag could be heard from behind and the men whispered to each other.

“Here.” was the only word I could make out of my chapped lips.

Sean nodded and asked me to step into the hall as the men carried my mother's body away.

Almost like fate had called upon it, Emilia appeared down the hall. She was quiet as she wheeled herself to me. “Thank you Sean. You may now leave.” Her words were direct and forceful but she said it with a kind tone.

Together, she and I entered my now empty home.

“How does it feel?” She began. I walked to the room and sat down in the spot I had spent so many days.

“I can tell you haven't moved for quite some time.” She said noting the dust around my figure. “You must be sore.”

“I am.” I said turning my neck to hear it pop.

She smiled at my action and continued. “What did you do as a reaction to her death? What kinds of things went in your head?”

I bit my lip sucking on the blood that poured from the small wounds.

“Mr. Cliff?” Emilia pressed.

I took in a deep breath before saying, “I told her how much I disapproved.”

“I see,” Emilia replied softly. Her eyes went from my figure to the two white flowers that laid on the ground beside me. “What are those?”

Even though I couldn’t see I knew what she was speaking of. “They are flowers Ms. Wadsworth brought one night while I was sleeping.”

“They are beautiful.” She awed.

I picked them up bringing them to my face so I could, once again, examine their intricate design.

“What kind of flowers are they?” Emilia asked dumbly.

“A chrysanthemum and rose.” I responded.

“Why those flowers?”

I itched my nose with my free hand and adjusted my glasses. Their scent was soothing and I felt myself warm up to the conversation.

“Every flower has a meaning. Some have a multitude while others only a few. Yellow roses stand for friendship, joy and caring. Pink lilies mean love, femininity and adoration.”

“What do those flowers mean?” Emilia asked, nodding her head to the ones in my hand.

“The White Chrysanthemum means Death.” I answered softly.

“And the white rose? Doesn’t it fall under the category of love? They are normally found in weddings. I believe they are meant for new beginnings, purity and everlasting love.”

“You are correct my dear,” I said, “But it also stands for silence.” The word floated from my lips and hung in the air thickly laying itself in the room.

“I never loved my mother you know.” I numbly said.

Emilia slowly drew her eyes to the ground and nodded. “I know.”

“She was evil. I don’t think it’s fair for her to leave in such a simple way.” I bit.

“Suicide is no simple thing Mr. Cliff. It’s something the mind must first accept and comprehend.” Emilia defended.

“Please, I just wanted to see her suffer. That’s why I kept her around. Why I kept her close. To watch her last moments of life as she flashed through hers.”

“I’m sorry, but maybe it’s for the best?” She said trying to reassure me of better things.

“We made a deal.” I said deliriously. “A deal that I would…” My words couldn’t escape my lips.

“Mr. Cliff? What deal?” Emilia pushed.

“Forgive me Emilia, but I must take some time to think. My mind has something it must explain but not to you. At least, not right now.” I stood and draped the flowers over the top ledge of the couch. “You know, I used to enjoy the silence. It’s stillness and solitude never bothering me.”

Emilia backed up in her chair listening to me as I made my way to the front door. I opened it wide enough so she could wheel herself out and leave me.

“I would sit alone for hours doing nothing but listening to the silence. It was beautiful, calming. I would think, and discover a new train of thoughts.” I spoke with no control over my wording.

Emilia rolled past me and exited the room.

“Silence is like a verbal communication but with no emotion behind it. It’s lifeless and cold. Unwanted but needed. Silence is something we cannot escape.”

Emilia faced me and waited for the door to close her out. She was frowning slightly and I could see the pain in her eyes as she listened to me.

“And what are your thoughts now, Mr. Cliff.”

Bringing the door to a close she never received a response. I turned and faced the dark room letting my answer linger on my tongue.

“It’s too quiet.”