⟪ — islander & jacklaxy - kim jongin & son wendy

@jacklaxy At least his first job made for an interesting conversation starter. 'Where do you work?' 'Jail.'

It had only been a few months since Kim Jongin had graduated from college. With a degree and specialty in both criminal psychology and law, it would've been just as easy to land a position at some attorney's office on the nicer side of town. But instead here he was in a brand new office inside the isolated brick world known as the city penitentiary. Why? Well the fact was, he had always had an extraordinary penchant for working with people. 'With', not meaning an indication of cooperation, but 'with' meaning he was good at working on them. He had a way with words, a sharp tongue and the ability to smooth talk what he wanted to hear. His facial expressions always hid his true intentions, a true poker face. And despite his occasional tendency to seem apathetic and detached, deep inside he had a rather admirable driving force, strong and perhaps unconventional opinions on what what defined justice, and a dormant potential for heroism and romanticism. Honestly, he would have made a brilliant criminal.

But instead, here he was talking to dozens of those criminals every week, some more sane than others. Sure, it was tedious and frustrating at times, but he found the job worthy enough for his time. A lot of the time, his clients were rather predictable or simply too twisted to make sense of - but those who fell somewhere in the middle of the spectrum were intriguing subjects for investigation. Little did he know that the very next of his office visitors would be the most 'intriguing' samples of the prison population. From what he was reading on file about her, she couldn't have been too extraordinary. It said that she, Son Seungwan, had committed a murder at a relatively young age. Convicted as guilty, but her sentence had been moderated due to her 'mental condition.' Probably due to some childhood trauma or accident or whatnot. Their appointments together would be quite routine and regular... or so he thought.

Hearing a sudden knock at his door, he spun on his heels, setting aside his cup of coffee to greet the visitor. He laid his eyes on her for the first time and his eyes narrowed slightly in disbelief as he quickly scanned the subject. She was... well, it was hard to explain. Besides the fact that she was rather young and attractive, more so than he had grown to expect from the prisoners here, she just didn't strike him as anything close to 'murderer'. Sure, he'd learned to never judge anyone by their first impressions, but she didn't suit the orange jumpsuit attire or the cuffs around her wrists at all. Additionally she was rather well kept and seemed rather sane. But more than anything, she drew his attention and intrigue in the strangest of ways.

Clearing his throat, he finally addressed the client. "Well Ms. Son, I was just about to tell you to feel free to make yourself comfortable, but I guess that wasn't necessary, was it?" His lips curled into the slightest form of a rather attractive smile, but the genuineness behind it was hard to tell. Making his way towards where she sat, he extended a single hand downwards for her to shake before resuming with the rest of his briefing. "Kim Jongin. It's a pleasure to meet you. Just remember that I'm here to help. And whatever happens in this room stays in this room. By law, and by the soundproof walls, not even those guards outside will be able to bother you about the things you do and tell me in here."

@islander Her crime? Well she had only tried to defend her little brother and herself…..of course the jury had just painted a gruesome picture and the ignorant bunch just called her a murderer instead, because honestly it made things easier and they stated “pity does not solve our problems”. Yes, she had killed someone, but not because she woke up that day with the intention to commit a crime. It had been a blur over the years, and all she could remember was her hands shaking uncontrollably and the crimson warm liquid dripping from her fingertips; and her little brother screaming out in pain. She had killed her stepfather, because she had to protect herself and her little brother. She had tainted her name, put up a crazy act claiming she was ill only to reduce her sentence but at the cost of what? The man that had tormented her family was now dead (courtesy of yours truly Son Seungwan) and her brother had been put in foster care and last she knew he had been adopted by a wonderful family. She played the poor crazy orphan girl to have a chance to get out of this hell hole, but now that her brother was in good hands what else was left for her?

Absolutely nothing. She had missed out on her greatest years, what they called “youth blossoming at its peak”. She had a career waiting for her, a cozy home, and the little squirt she loved to death and who she was willing to raise and care for. But now everything had vanished from her grasp. And to make matters worse now she was being forced to attend a therapy that the jail facility had set up. She walked, dragging her feet (and ankle cuffs) along with her, and only the sound of that piece of rusty metal was heard. The guards behind her shoved her towards the door. “Here’s your stop, this is your first session with Dr.Kim right? I’ll be back for you later Seungwan and don’t even think of causing mayhem-“ she cut him off. “Yeah, there’ll be two guards outside and let me guess the room is bugged with cameras. Spare me I’ve heard it all before” she coldly spat.
The door was open and she was once again shoved inside. It took her a couple of seconds to become familiarized with her new surroundings. It wasn’t too shabby and at least she spotted a nice, comfortable leather couch nearby….then her eyes met with his and she eyed him from head to toe. She read his name tag, Kim Jongin huh? The lad seemed like ones you watch in those prepaid TV dramas, like those with the filthy rich families that had doctors and lawyers and their rich bratty kids who were so uptight they might as well have a pole shoved up their .

His shirt was pearly white and crispy, his cardigan was neat and fitted his body flawlessly. His pants were somewhat of a light beige color and to top it off he wore shiny dress shoes that seemed far too uncomfortable for feet (but then again she didn’t know, she wasn’t quite in the position to judge fashion when she wore an orange jumpsuit).

She didn’t bother to speak up, last thing she needed was to drown her sorrows and speak about her miserable life with a stranger. She simply stood, jerking her hands just slightly due to the fact that her wrists were tightly gripped by the cold metal cuffs. After taking another moment, Seungwan plopped down on the couch, and for the first time in years she felt relaxed as she let the sofa embrace her petite frame. And the only noise that emitted from her chapped lips was a sigh of relief.