My psychopathic friend

The bullet shot out from Salem's pistol barrel and silenced by its sound suppressor, which he was hiding in his back pocket of his trousers — as usual — to settle in the middle of the doctor's forehead, who thought herself clever when she left them to tell her the details of all the tragedies he had lived through, and she pretended to understand, be wise, empathetic, and understanding, and asked them for a copy of the ID to hand over to the authorities. Hadi's features relaxed when he saw the thin bloodline descending from her botox-injected forehead, then he whispered to Salem with unparalleled enthusiasm: - I am the one who will kill the nurse. Salem shook his head indifferently, then took the cigarette case in which he had kept his cigarettes throughout the session, put it in a plastic bag he took out of his pocket, then he was about to get up to take the notebook lying between the hands of the murdered doctor and tear up all the pages written about them so as not to leave any evidence against them. Hadi noticed his friend's condition, so he stopped him saying: - Don’t believe her, Salem. We’re not psychopaths, society is the one playing the victim.