In all honesty, she didn't mind that he didn't love her because she knew he couldn't love another being even if he wanted to. He was a monster... for lack of a better word. As hallow as a wooden boy. He understood the work of emotions like grief, happiness, and anger. But the problem was... he just couldn't feel them.

When a patient tells me they never worry, I can only assume that they are either trying to deceive me or they are deceiving themselves. But my newest patient... she is different. She tells me she worries. She tells me she is restless. But why? Why am I inclined to think she is trying to deceive me and herself?

With her make-up on, she is a well known Taiwanese singer. The cute and bubbly type. Without her make-up on, she is just another damaged girl. Plain and unrecognizable.

At the beginning of every private session, at her request, I would ask her about the tattoo on her back and she would start her story as if rehearsed. Her needs for total control is evident.

"I lost my father when I was seven, my mother when I was nine, my brother and my first child when I was thirteen. At fourteen I had no family, no money, no dignity. A family of two took me in like a stray cat. They were nice. Three years and I lost them too."

Cliché. Her voice is objective as if she is telling the life story of an insignificant other. No feelings. Only facts. She is trying to draw neither empathy nor sympathy from me.

"Then, he came into my life when I was seventeen. At that time, he was thirty. He found me in the alley behind a convenience store. He gave me food and a place to stay. He was nice..."

She hesitates. Is she trying to tell me that everything she says from this point forward is the absolute truth?

"He was nice at the beginning. Then, the horror began. He me. At first, in front of his friends. And then, his entire family every Sunday after church. His parents would bring over his two teenage nephews and his seven year old daughter, They would all watch him me like a free live show. Sometimes his two nephews would join in and sometimes his father would. His little girl, she sat and watched it all from her grandmother's lap... as docile as a lamb."

She is an artist. She is an actress. Am I being played for a fool? No, she wants me to play her game. She is testing me.

"One night, I escaped. I ran but I didn't have enough strength to get far. I fell and everything turned black. I remembered waking up back at his place, tied to a chair with his daughter and a camera staring back at me. He made her cut me with a straight razor. My back was her blank canvas. My cries were her inspirational music."

She is not just telling me a story. She is selling me an idea.

"When I was locked up, every night, I prayed for death, but he was not kind. I have long forsaken him as he had forsaken me."

For the sake of living, did this girl in her story find peace? A peace so sure that death itself cannot rattle it?

"The second time I escaped, I was pregnant. I was bleeding and I lost my baby. My second baby. But I succeeded... thinking I never wanted to see them again... but I know now that I do. I want to see them again. All of them."

The room is frigid. She does not simply want to show the scum how well off she is now. She desires something more. It should have been enough for her own closure, and yet why? Why do I sense as if she is transfiguring the common life and ennobling it?

"I want to see them. I want to kill them. And make the world right again. Those scars... I've shaped them into a phoenix. It stands as a constant reminder of my past and my future. Because... I will rise again. Always."

She glanced at the woman with her neat blonde curls in place. How did she do? Was she successful in omitting his existence from the story of her life? She believed that if she could somehow convince this woman, who was trained to spot the unconscious truth, perhaps then... she had a chance to convince herself that he was truly dead in her heart.

For better or worse, she changed... playing a life of make-believe. A happy woman who could smile in any weather. It was all part of the experience... to make everything seem absolutely real. And to a certain degree, some of it was... just not most of it.

Scandals after scandals. She seemed to attract them like a magnet. The first of them was initiated by an old boyfriend who she had met while filming her first drama. Reaching out to all the blind conservative s, he posted a message saying she was a fake and a . That she wasn't as innocent and pure as she made herself out to be and that she wasn't a at seventeen. It gave her a good laugh. How would that er feel if he knew she wasn't a at the age of seven? Like any other intelligent person, she gave no response, letting it slowly die out... and like all natural things, it did.

After that, new scandals popped up, escalating in absurdity, leading to the latest one. It portrayed her as the third wheel wedged in between a celebrity couple who was well known for their dysfunctional relationship. How many times had they broken up? She would have ignored this scandal too if it wasn't for her meddling company. They demanded she give a proper press conference and explain the situation. She complied like all of their other petty requests.

If that could pull off crocodile tears and a swollen face, so could she.  She'd do it and she'd do it well. Them and their troublesome affairs? She didn't give a .

Sometimes, she wondered whether she could genuinely give a about anything. She appreciated her fans' support but she couldn't love them the way they loved her. She understood her anti-fans' blasphemous behavior but she couldn't hate them the way they hated her. 

Life was easier now... not because she made less effort, but because she was working from another level with a better perspective. She didn't need to stoop low. There was no one in her life she truly needed to protect.

Well.. that is... until he came back onto her play stage. Still a monster.