[ WP ] When too much anger , trauma , or hurt is bottled up , a heart becomes like a bomb . You are a heart diffuser , and you 've been assigned your hardest case yet .

The nurses avoided looking at me, as they always did—as everyone always did. Even the doctor standing in front of the door, flipping through his clipboard, did n't look up. 
 
 “ Ah, you're here, ” he said, almost mumbling the words. 
 
 “ Yes. ” 
 
 He hesitated, leaving a page half-flipped for a moment, before lowering the clipboard. The wall beside me must have had something interesting to look at. “ Well, you've read the file, I presume? ” 
 
 “ Yes. ” 
 
 He nodded. “ Then, go ahead. ” He stepped to the side. 
 
 I twisted the handle, opening the door without a creak. The dim room had little in common with most of the hospital, covered in soft tiles that did n't quite shine antiseptic white. Slits for windows meant it never looked particularly bright without the light on. 
 
 What really set the room apart, though, was its occupant. Today, she sat on the edge of the bed, striped by sunlight. 
 
 As usual, I took my seat in the middle of the room, cross-legged on the floor. 
 
 Nothing changed, for a while. The padding muffled the rest of the world, and nothing in the room divulged the time, so I could n't say how long that while lasted. But, eventually, she moved. Her movements slow, she turned her upper body, leaning back on the bed. 
 
 Her eyes looked familiar. 
 
 She took her time staring at me, with no expression on her face. Then, she took more time to adjust herself, sitting on the edge facing me in a more comfortable manner. Finally, she spoke. 
 
 “ Who are you? ” 
 
 I did n't smile. “ I'm here to listen. ” 
 
 “ Listen to what? ” 
 
 “ Anything you would like me to listen to. ” 
 
 She stared at me, and then just to the side of me. Her body did n't move with any tics, hands and legs still. The seconds trickled into minutes, and probably into hours given the movement of the slits of sunshine. 
 
 The door rattled, and a nurse came in, balancing two trays. I accepted one with thanks, and the other tray got left on the bed amidst silence. The door closed once more. I ate the small portion of soup slowly, spreading out the bread to match how much soup I had left. After finishing the main meal, I moved on to the slightly melted ice-cream. Meanwhile, she had n't touched her food or, as far as I could tell, moved at all. 
 
 Darkness soon slipped through the windows, displaced by the overhead light flickering on. It had a much colder tone, with a hint of blue. 
 
 “ Go already. ” 
 
 She had n't moved, not even her eyes. I did n't respond. 
 
 “ How long are you gon na stay here? ” 
 
 “ As long as it takes. ” 
 
 “ For what? ” 
 
 “ For you to tell me what you want me to listen to. ” 
 
 She did n't laugh, or roll her eyes, or rub her brow. Nothing changed about her, but her lips when she spoke, and the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. 
 
 “ What kind of a job is that? ” 
 
 I adjusted what she said slightly, and answered, “ It's my job to listen to whoever is in this room, and answer any questions they may have for me. ” 
 
 “ Ah, you're the shrink who has to listen to the crazies. ” 
 
 She showed some emotion with that last word, her lips curving into a glimmer of a smile. 
 
 “ Does n't it drive you mad, listening to us? ” 
 
 “ No, it doesn't. ” 
 
 That set off another stretch of silence, which infected the world at large as the hospital wound down for the night. Matching that, the light above dimmed, giving the whole room the appearance of being in shadow. What little colour remained became muted, a shade of grey and nothing more; her hair, her skin, the hospital gown, and her eyes. 
 
 “ Why not? ” she asked, and her voice had quieted too, matching. 
 
 I thought I knew, but asked, “ Why not what precisely? ” Perhaps if the light had n't dimmed, I may have seen the flashes that trailed in her features, but the shadows blurred them. 
 
 “ Sitting there, listening to pain day after day, why does n't that hurt you? ” 
 
 I held my reply a beat, and asked, “ Do you really want to know? ” 
 
 Her gaze shifted minutely, from the side of my face to my eyes. It delayed her reply, but it eventually came. “ Yes. ” 
 
 “ I do n't have emotions. ” 
 
 Her eyes reacted, once more though blurred by the dim lighting. “ How can you even do your job? ” 
 
 “ My job is to listen, not to feel. ” 
 
 “ What good does that do? ” 
 
 “ A lot. ” 
 
 She held her reply between pursed lips, letting it fade away. After a while, she instead asked, “ Why would telling you help me now I know you do n't care? ” 
 
 “ You're mistaken, I do care. ” 
 
 “ How can you possibly care if you're dead inside? ” 
 
 “ If I made a robot, could I make it empathise without having emotions of its own? ” 
 
 Her mouth stayed open for a moment, before she replied. “ I do n't know. ” When no reply came from me, she rephrased her earlier question. “ How can you care without emotions? ” 
 
 “ I value human life and well-being. ” 
 
 “ But, how can you do that? ” 
 
 “ I choose to. It's the axiom of my morality. ” 
 
 “ But… why? If it ca n't ever make you happy, why do anything? ” 
 
 “ If I did n't do anything, I would n't be here. ” 
 
 “ That's not an answer. ” 
 
 “ It's the closest one I can give. The only one, in fact. ” 
 
 “ So, you do things because you do things? ” 
 
 “ Yes. I'm like a robot who has been asked why it does what it has been programmed to do. ” 
 
 “ Is that how you see yourself? ” 
 
 “ No. ” 
 
 My answer sat on her lips, silently echoed back to me. Then, she asked, “ Would you be sad if I killed myself? ” 
 
 “ No. ” 
 
 “ Would you cry at my funeral? ” 
 
 “ No. ” 
 
 “ Would you stay up late into the night, trying to think what you could have done differently to save me? ” 
 
 “ No. ” 
 
 My answers sat on her lips, accompanied by a smile. “ No, huh? ” 
 
 “ No, I wouldn't. ” 
 
 She leant forwards, and the shadows darkened over her face, veiling it in a blur that hid her away. “ Do you hate me? ” 
 
 “ No. ” 
 
 “ Liar, ” she said. “ You'd rather I just spilled my guts to you. Instead, I'm asking stupid questions, wasting your time. ” 
 
 I did n't reply, and she grew as restless as she'd been since I walked in, swiping a finger back and forth across her knee. 
 
 “ Am I crazier than the rest? ” 
 
 “ I do n't know. ” 
 
 “ Well, did you already fix them all by now? ” 
 
 “ Most. ” 
 
 “ Am I the most difficult one of them all? ” 
 
 “ I think so, based on my intuition of how this will go. ” 
 
 Her finger stilled. “ What makes me difficult for you? ” 
 
 “ I think you've convinced yourself that no one will ever genuinely care about you, that no matter how hard you try to come back from this trauma, it will haunt you forever and keep everyone else distant. That's difficult to begin to overcome while I'm being completely honest about myself. ” 
 
 She did n't reply. 
 
 “ Has that answered your question sufficiently? ” 
 
 “ You should… ” she said, so softly I only caught the beginning. 
 
 “ Pardon? ” 
 
 “ You should have lied to me. ” 
 
 Her words brought silence, ticking on and on. The atmosphere did n't help with drowsiness, but I had had enough practice to keep myself awake. 
 
 “ Why send someone who ca n't care to help someone who needs to feel cared for? ” she asked, a sudden end to the quiet. 
 
 “ I'm not here to help. I'm here to listen. ” 
 
 “ What good does that do? ” 
 
 She had already asked that, and I gave her the same answer. “ A lot. ” 
 
 “ What good does that do for me? ” 
 
 “ I do n't know yet. ” 
 
 “ Then why should I bother telling you anything? ” 
 
 “ It might help. ” 
 
 “ I thought you were n't here to help? ” 
 
 “ A fortunate side-effect, but it's not something I can promise. ” 
 
 “ What can you promise, then? ” 
 
 “ I can promise to listen to anything you'd like me to listen to. ” 
 
 Her finger curled, so the trimmed nail pressed into her knee. “ What if I do n't want to say anything? ” 
 
 “ That's fine. ” 
 
 “ What if I tell you a ton of lies? ” 
 
 “ That's fine. ” 
 
 “ What if I tell you really twisted, disgusting stuff? ” 
 
 “ That's fine. ” 
 
 “ So anything's okay, huh? ” 
 
 “ As long as you want me to listen to it. ” 
 
 “ What does that even mean? What I want you to listen to? Is n't that just hearing what I say? ” 
 
 “ No, it means what it means. Speaking might help some people, but, in my experience, speaking to someone helps more often. Of course, you're free to say aloud whatever you like, but I'm here to listen if there's anything you want to say to someone. ” 
 
 She did n't reply, and the silence settled in for a while once again. Despite the time I had spent in the room, I had n't been able to use the moon to tell time, though I did n't even know if that was possible to do. I guessed it probably neared midnight, though. 
 
 “ I… I do n't want any cop-out answer this time. ” 
 
 Amongst the gloom, her face swirled, whatever she felt masked behind the darkness. 
 
 “ Will telling you help me? ” 
 
 I tried to see through the shadows and meet her gaze. “ No, I do n't think so. ” 
 
 She did n't smile, or laugh, or look away from me. “ Will you listen anyway? ” 
 
 “ Yes. ”
