"Oh, that's Murder!" @mikey-mcdarin - Tumblr Blog

My own blood-! (Spilling onto the Kitchen Floor)

Summary: The Patient whose correlation number was simply 17431, was one of the worst cases the Doctor had ever seen.

A young 27-year-old white male, whose next three years were going to be spent in prison due to his abhorrent behaviors whenever it came to treating people a certain way- how he was for lack of a better term a Nazi Sympathizer, to the point he was one. What was originally mentioned to be a few long sessions in an attempt to cure his sudden lack of sleep, turned into something far more complicated that forced him to write more than uncomfortable details down about the patient, in hopes of helping him.

WARNINGS/NOTES: PLEASE READ!! Mention of CSA via a parent. Guilt and issues, slurs(faggot) implied/referred self self-harm, detailed mental breakdowns, crying, wetting, and mention of molestation/SA. Hypnosis as a therapy tactic, based on an already heavy film, angst, no real happy ending, mild age regression due to trauma. DEAD DOVE!! DONT! EAT! Character study if you squint while tired. Mention of nazi Sympathizers, outdated terms(1940/50s) Read at your own risk.

On August 9th, 1943, outside of a Federal Penitentiary in somewhere USA located on the mid-east coast region, the weather was described as nothing short of a torrential downpour, the type of weather no one would ever want to be out in, the weather that brings colds and sickness. It was rumored that the rain was so bad that day, because it was losing a model inmate, and one of the best psychiatrists on the same day.

In 1942, a full year before this seemingly amazing event for the inmate, and calling it quits for the doctor, was the same two, but in a much different situation. He was the worst inmate, and the doctor wanted nothing less than to strangle him if he could.

Before all these breakthroughs, he was a bitter, vile, angry man who fell into the wrong ideologies, which landed him in prison, where upon arrival, he was nothing short of a menace...Shockingly not on purpose.

He always knew he'd wind up there, sooner or later. Yet, he never knew how he would find up there, or exactly how horrible it would be in reality. The means of how he got arrested felt stupid to him, since he always thought it would be either petty theft or accidental manslaughter that landed him in prison, not..not what he did, not what he attended and joined that landed him there.

There was something horrific about prison. The too grey sterile walls, the concrete everywhere, the sickening scent of being clean and at times something died or was simply dirty, it was gag-inducing to him. Something about the scent and colours, some of the looks he earned made his skin crawl as his body retreated on itself some night. How he felt so small and alone like a child in constant time out. That painfully alone feeling when he was in his cell at night, or wound up in solitary confident, how everything felt like a reminder to something he couldn't quite remember, and how he had too much time on his hands to think about things.

He likes to think, he might have not have minded his three-year sentence, if not for everything. If not for his inability to hold civil conversations, if not for his inability to not lash out suddenly, almost against his will, if not for the fact that he felt terrified and kept having nightmares, kept causing problems, he felt he would have been alright with the place if not for everything wrong with both it and himself.

At least he knew that much, there was something wrong with him, it wasn't normal to get this worked up over being in prison- what the hell was he on about? Of course it was normal! He was being locked up like some animal, like some feral animal that bites back, and was being made to be punished! He had every right to start fights and get angry–!

"What do you mean I gotta see a shrink for some damn sleeping pills!?" He retorted to the physician, who simply jotted down a note as he put something away, before tearing it off.

"I cannot find anything physically wrong with you, thus you will be going and seeing the psychiatrist, if he chooses to give you pills so be it, if not..get used to visiting him." The words sounded so cold to the other, how he felt his blood boiling over everything before storming off only to be escorted to the psychiatrists' office which was a floor above the physicians'.

He was huffing the entire time, so angry, so wired and riled up over it all, especially as he was pushed down into a cell outside of the room where another inmate was having a session, and there was at least one more ahead of him.

"Are you suicidal?" He was suddenly asked by a guard who looked at him as if he were dirt on his shoes.

"No, but I wish I were.." He mumbled out, leaning against the all too uncomfortable bars as he stared blankly at the man.

"Huh..tough luck kid, wait your turn then."

He was alone, or well he had one person next to him but virtually he was alone in his mind. Made to sit for what felt like hours as time ticked by agonizingly slow. He took up daydreaming about anything and everything, having some elaborate conversations in his own head about how horrible the place was before they faded to a familiar safe face that was forever engraved into his memory.

That sweet woman, how her religion felt hopeless and odd to him, how he wanted to strangle her father, or at least push him down the stairs, maybe just whisk her away would be better..he liked that idea, stealing her away, and her being so kind to him. He wonders if she'd still like him after all this time, or if she ever sweet him in the papers as one of meny who were arrested, he wonders a lot about her, and how she probably hates him now..the feeling he wished was mutral, but he couldnt help but feel a sad ping in his heart as he thought about that smile of her's.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that, he hadn't realized he could go now, as a guard hastily jerked himself upright before shoving him into the room. A simple bed pushed up against the wall in the corner, a chair, and of course the psychiatrist..an odd one to see at that.

He couldn't help the smile that creeper on his face as he let out a chuckle, which evolved into a fit of laughter while looking the man behind the desk up and down, who was acting polite and all, but already he knew he would loathe the man.

"I don't recall state penitentiaries hiring negro doctors.." Is all he spoke out with a wicked smile on his face, a string of laughter following him as he did so.

That was the start of the longest hours, turned days and months of the Doctor's life. He already knew the man would be a headache, he saw his file he had to know of course, but already he was starting off so..wrong and yet strong with his..behavior and beliefs.

"Well, if you must know, they hire anyone with a license who's qualified and willing to work under such..conditions as theses." The Doctor spoke out, his voice not once faltering as his new paticent examined him, as if trying to find something so specific about him that was wrong outside of his skin colour.

"Hmm, so you must not have that meny then, seeing as- as uhm..oh–" His laugher subsided as he finally took his seat, a light dizzy spell washing over him as he held his head, shaking it with another giggle escaping him. " 'M not crazy you know, just came to see if you'd be so kind as to prescribe me sleeping pills ya know." He smiled a coy look at the other male, who stayed silent as he observed the paticent.

There was something so peculiar about him, how he would watch his every move like an animal watching. Nothing like predator and prey, altho he probably wished he were that, no..no it was more akin to an prey watching a predator, ready to fight or run away if moved wrong.

The man's laughter and oddness, the small less than notable file on him, everything points to the fact that, if he so wished he could have this man commited after his sentence was up, and he just might since even if he were a sort of bigot he's never known them to start laughing when faced with him.

"Hm, well, I supose whatever helps you sleep at night, which I'm assuming is nothing." He spoke out, voice calm as he looked away, taking the slip of paper given to him moments ealier by the guard since inmates wern't really allowed to carry anything on them.

All it said was he had been expirencing blackout spells, dizzy episodes, and was physically healthy. Due to the physical aspects being perfectly fine, the fact he was so sick with spells and unable to sleep ment something mental was going on.

"Oh~ And what's that ment to mean? Are you implying I'm lying to myself?" He leaned forward, manging to lift himself up in a swaying, hazy manner as he walked towards the desk, staring at the doctor as he did so.

"No, but I am saying your behaviors are odd, and if I so wished, I could get you committed after you're stay here.." The Doctor finally flashed a small sly smile of his own, as he watched the man before him stare cold daggers at him. "Now, how may I help you?"

"Dont speak to me like that! Dont pull your sappy act of pity kindness on me!" He shouted back, turning away from the doctor as he started messing with things in his office, the books mostly. He didn't want to read any of them, not like he could read meany of them, he had not the best reading ability. Still he didnt want to face the doctor. "I dont want to listen to some Shrink telling me my childhood is the problem, I wanted some sleeping pills!" He couldn't help as he whirled his head back to look at the man who seemed unfazed by his reactions.

"Well it might not be your childhood, it could easily be something more recent, perhaps its stress from being here, but if you feel its your childhood–"

"IT'S NOT!" He shouted back, marching back to the desk as he leaned over it. "Can't you just give me pills and send me on my way!?"

"..No, the doctor could have easily done that, but he sent you to me for one reason or another," His voice was calm, it stayed calm the entier time as he slowly leaned himself forward, hands clasped together as he leaned them on his desk. "And to help you rest all depends on how much you'd like to cooperate with me."

The statement made the others blood boil. The last thing he wanted was to be dealing with this man, to be hearing the negro spill some pseudo intellect at him that sounded only a little confusing to him. Then again he could have been a white man and he'd have the same feelings, he just had an exceptionally large distain for Shrinks.

"If I ask you about yourself, it's not to pry, it's because I need the information to help you." The statement was plain and easy, something the Paticent could understand sure but didnt want to.

"Thank you, thank you really~ I understand what Psychiatry is..." His voice dripped with Sarcasum to a nearly unhealthy degree. He loathed the doctor before him, even if it ment he could get help sleeping he didn't want it.

"It could help you sleep."

Sleep..He knows he just told himself he didnt want anything help, but his exhustion weighed out his hate and suspicions towards the other. The idea that if anything, maybe he'd be so board he'd fall asleep with more easy was also tempting and a thought he had.

Moving to lay on the bed, positions himself to be as comftable as one could mange on such a bed, he quickly found himself smiling the idea that maybe this would help was more than amusing to him.

"Alright Doctor~ You go ahead and make me sleep." His voice was a bit more chipper this time.

The Doctor however, still didn't quite like him. His bigoted nature that was on his file and what little bit he saw first hand was more than concerning, yet it was his job, his profession to help those who needed it, dispite the fact he didn't always like his paticents.

"Could you maybe describe theses blackout spells?" He asked calmly.

"Well I guess I could try..First I'm a little sick to my stomach.." His breathing became labored, coming out in pants as he laid down thinking about his own symptoms, how he felt as if he were being drowned, or beaten and suffocated. Sluggish and like he couldnt move. Those blinding bells in his ears, as weird sounds filled them before seeing an asortment of colour's as blackness engulfed him, a fever shooting across his body as he would sway and tumble, waking up someplace he wasn't ment to be, or trying eveything to force himself to a bed, to a wall, anything.

"Then suddenly I feel like there's something coming down on me, I can't breath, I can't see, and its over." His voice came out shakey, staring up at the ceiling he couldnt stand the ideas he was having, the vague piced together memories and sheer amount of pain he had about something. He recognized the feeling, it felt like there was something too heavy ontop of him, like a memory he knew happened but couldn't bare to remember. It was making him nauseous ever since he got to the preision, ever since he joined that group even, something nagged at him internally.

"Can you recall or tell me what it is you feel comes over you?"

"No, I- Look I just wanna sleep."

"Hmm..Do you ever have nightmares when you do mange to sleep?"

"I–" He stopped, he knew the answer, the truth, the haze agonizing sickening truth that was making his mouth salvate with nausea as his breathing grew more labored, his head hurting as his body tangled with a cold sweat of panic. He wasnt going to admit he had nightmares, especially when he could barely remember them, just remember what he felt like when they happened. "No, No I dont..Look I just want to sleep.."

"When You have theses spells, do you feel as if your going to fall?"

"No!" His voice came out shakey and rushed, his heart pounding in the cage that was his chest, his hand coming up to rest over it as he took shakey breaths trying to calm himself. He felt like he was choking, drowning, as if he were too high in the air and about to fall off the bed at any moment yet he couldnt let anyone know that, maybe if he persisted he could get some sleeping pills- that's all he wanted were those damn things, he just wanted to sleep.

"..Have you ever fainted in your life?"

"Once." He panted out, growing restless on the bed as he began to toss and turn, wiggling on the bed in attempt to ease himself somehow as he hoped with everything in him the doctor would leave it there.

"When?"

When- when? When did he faint, why did he faint and when?

"When I was a kid–" He cut himself off, a rush of fear flooding him as he realized something truly horrific. He couldn't exactly remember what, couldn't place anything about any of it, it felt hazy, like he was looking at it through a dirty stained window, or three layers of film. He felt he knew exactly when it was and why, as a weird stench filled his nose, eyes burning at a memory he couldnt face as his mouth filled with saliva trying to choke him, trying to silence him and make him gag. He needed to gag, needed to leave, he felt scared, paniced, like a deer being hunted or a rabbit cornered in its burrow. His panic became more prevalent as he almost hyperventilated before shooting upright, a wild look in his eyes as fear was prevalent.

"Oh no, it ain't answering none of your spooky questions!" He shot the words out as he stumbled away from the doctor, turning towards the closed door as he suddenly stopped, before his body gave out beneath him as he flung himself forward, the door flinging open as he attempted to grab the bars on the outside of it as he collapsed onto the floor. His head spinning as his ears rang out, bright colour's switched to sudden darkness as he laid motionless on the floor.

The Doctor rushed to help him, keeping a keen eye on him as he and the guard helped him up, dragging his limp body to the chair where he now sat. The guard being dismissed as the doctor took over for the more than intresting paticent.

"–own, down." Was all he manged to make out as his shoulders were firmly pushed down, encouraging him to slump in on himself as his head still spun, but was regaining its surroundings. Blood flow returning to his head finally as he whined out softly, panting out shakey breaths as he tried to catch his breath from whatever just happend.

"Do you feel unusually good or unusually bad a day or so before an attack? During an attack do you feel strange sensations in some parts of the body, accompanied by flashes of lights or colour, with strange sounds?" His voice came out in such a calming manner, his demeanor felt like someone you could genuinely talk to, to trust even, to reach out and they'd offer a helping hand even. The effects were like an ice cold glass of water after waking up in the middle of the night with a parched sore throat..he almost enjoyed the feeling of safty he felt. "Do you feel your legs and body stiffen? do you feel as if your breathing has stopped?"

The paticent lifed his head up, his eyes big and filled with fear, agony almost and moruning..he looked as if he was grieving and scared, like a child who you told their pet just died..or maybe like a deer running away– more akin to a rabbit cornered in its burrow by a hungry fox. His entire demeanor changed, his whole everything was diffrent now..raw, compleatly himself even. Not that..facade he did since arriving, or since..well whenever he developed it. Or maybe he was truly capable of complex emotions, most people were, even psychopaths.

"See I had the same thing once.." The doctor softly told him, and it was partially true. It wasn't this severe, but it certianly happened, altho he's certian it's not the same as whatever was going on with this man before him.

"C-Can you help me?" He asked, his voice trembling as he did so, eyes filling with tears as he pulled in on himself, scared to be too relaxed as he gave shakey breaths and small whines.

"I dont know, I'd have to know more about you.." The doctor responded, and on that note he saw a small nod from the other who mumbled a responce in agreement that yes, sure, he'd talk. His voice shakey as he agreeded to talk, as his hands trembled when accepting a cigarette from the doctor.

Before long he was curled in on himself in the chair, vulnerable for hours as he almost whined out and looked scared the entier time. This continued well into the night, until he was eventually, and painfully asked to leave since the Doctor needed to clock out sadly.

He looked almost..scared to go back to his cell, that look of a frightened deer never leaving him as he was escorted out. It was the start of some of the longest months in the history of his time working there, but what was most painful about them was just how..horrible the entier situation would become as they dragged on.

°•☆°•☆°•☆°•☆°•☆°•☆

The Paticent would continuously keep coming to the Doctor ever since that first initial sesson. Has he yet to tell him about that one time he fainted? Not even once, eveytime they got close he would be flung into a frenzie, and fainted again. There was something about that time he fainted before that was a block in the road to him, and he wouldn't budge. The one time the Doctor did attempt to pry, it sent him into a fit so bad he wouldn't properly respond after coming to, not to mention the fact he watched the man bite himself as to not cry.

So he was onto a new aproch, at least to see what else he could figure out about the man since he'd mention smaller tid-bits about his adult life before. Theres only so much you could piece together when he can't even get through his childhood without being confronted with hazy memories and a roadblock so bad he gags over it.

Which brought him to now, as he watched the paticent sitting on the bed, staring at nothing in particular as he took note of his behaviors before asking him something he had a genuine curiosity about.

"You mentioned in a previous session that, you found out a girl you liked was Jewish," He began, his voice steady as it were in all of these sessons as he looked over to see the paticents' head suddenly perked up at the mention of her. He liked her still maybe, or maybe it was the one thing he couldn't bring himself to hate. "If circumstances were diffrent, would you have gone after her again?"

There was a striking silence that followed the question, something which was surprising seeing as he asumed the man would be quick to answer such a question given his suposet ideologies. Yet..here he was, debating on if he'd try his luck with her if it were diffrent.

"No..I dont think she'd like a guy like me anyhow–" He looked almost sad over the idea, over the fact he knew deep down there was something that he felt made it impossible to be properly lived and cared for.

"That's not what I asked, I asked if the circumstances were diffrent, as in, if you had a job or more money, would you have gone after her?" There was another stronge silence that followed, the Paticent with his legs drawn up to his chest as he sat in the bed across from the doctor. "That was the problem wasnt it? Money, her father seemingly didn't want you two dating due to the fact you were, for lack of a better terms, a homeless bum."

He didn't respond, just felt a lump in his throat. He knew there was something else, something no one would like him for, something he'd be hated for, pushed aside on and thrown out for- something he couldn't, wouldn't tell anyone, but he didn't know what. He just knew it was in there, trapped deep in the inner most part of his subconscious. He couldn't get it out however, and it was hurting him, especially as he thought about her. He still liked her, he missed her and those warm hazel nuts, and his cheap little apples..he missed that.

"..I supose if I had money, and the means to, I guess I would have gone after her again yes." The confession fell from his lips as he remembered the woman. Her soft sweet smile, how warm it was and how safe he felt near her, how he craved to feel her gentle hands' in his again, everything about her made his world glow and spin, and she still held a special place in his heart, dispite all the rage, and anger he felt.

He could never bring himself to hate her, her wonder, her awe at life, and sweet blissful innocence. She was no doubt just listening to whatever her father threatened her with anyhow–

The man he never got a chance to really meet that's the man he hated with a burning passion. He couldn't stand him– Couldn't accept him or anything, the hate he had for his was as much as his own father. Those cold eyes, and that tone, something about the look made his stomach churned as his vision grew hazy, too focused on the edge of the desk as he tangled his fist into the sheets.

"–Bet he kept her around to please himself–" The words fell from his lips subconsciously, he didn't realize he said it, never realized that his mouth opened again, as he suddenly got up, leaving the sesson.

It was noted from that moment forward that while he is bigoted, he still cared for her, even if he couldn't get much out the rest of the sesson, lost in thought and then leaving when asked about her, angry over her father still. Maybe thats what he really hated, fathers..her's just happened to be jewish.

By the time the next sesson came around, he had neatly accumulated a small pile of papers on the man. A file thick enough to be bursting the manilla envelope. He still had barely anything to go off of, but he had the man's entier history practically which was a start of sorts, along with observations about how he behaved exactly. Repeating patterns he noticed from him.

The Patient was now noted as having spells, bouts of being so foggy and dazed he would unknowingly say or mumble something, before carring on like normal of simply up and leaving. These spells often occurred when an attack was near, or after it. They also happend whenever asked too serious questions, namely about the woman he still seemed to love deeply.

Theses spells kept coming, and while trying to get to the bottom of eveything, it was soon discovered that he had an extremely strong distaine for his parents, and everyone else he knew virtually, but especially his parents. There was something he couldn't stand about either of them, and he loathed them, hated them and everything they reminded him of. He wonders if its becuse he held some deep fear about turning out like them, which is what causes his severe lashing out, along with the sudden shift when asked about them.

"Your mother leaned heavily on you correct? And your father..he was abusive you said?" The Doctor asked softly, looking at the other who was smoking, leaning back in the chair with his feet kicked up on the desk. Comftable as he could be, and even if he weren't the Doctor had given up on asking him to remove his feet from his desk long ago.

"I never used the word abuse, I said he didn't like me and hit me." He breathed out the words with a trail of smile following, eyes glancing over to the other as he looked just barely alive in those eyes.

"Well that falls under abuse," He stated matter of factly. "Now you began to speak about an incident of being around six years old, helping him in the butcher shop, something happened you said?" He pushed the question, knowing nothing would come of it, especially as he saw the man shift in his seat, how he took a long drag before exhaling more smoke.

"..I never said anything happened." He mumbled.

"No, you were going to speak on that through, weren't you?"

More silence, a deafening silence that made his heart grow heavy as his chest ached, the feeling of something trapped wanting to escape, to scream out to speak, clawing on the inside of him, unable to get out, he refused to let it out, due to having a deep horrible understanding that he wouldn't be looked at the same after telling the other man about it. His leg growing restless as it began to shake while he swallowed his voice down his throat.

The Paticent could live with being seen as a bigot, as some vile man who fell into a hate group, who's photo in Nazi attire is somewhere no doubt, he could live with that he felt. A tarnish on a name he never had, and couldn't keep– But this thing? This horrific secret he kept hidden inside of him, carring it around close to his chest and with agonizing fear, he knew it was something bad, something no one would ever look at him the same for, something that made him weak.

He couldn't even begin to understand, to remember what exactly it was, or much after that event. All he knew was it happened, and he felt disgusted from it..he felt like a shell of a man, how he pranced around playing pretend and oh, he couldn't even sway anyone to sit with him at lunch or talk with him..some leader of a male he was, always being lied to and seen as a threat, causing his own problems and everything being brought on himself.

Some strong male he was, acting no more better than a child acting out what he thought adults were like.

"I was helping run the cash register, busy day you know? We'll my old man needed help, told me 'Go cut up that liver boy!' And I couldn't.." The words came out punctuated, slow and easy, as if he'd rehearsed what to say a million times, as if it happened just yesterday. "Well that upset him greatly, to the point he-he chased me into the walk in freezer, I was shaking from fear, sick to my stomach from all that blood- I can't I can't I- I dont like blood, guts or the sight of animals on hooks it makes me physically ill, that stench, the look of the concreat towering around me surrounded by bulls on meat hooks." His words began to come out quicker, more paniced as if he were rushing a memory, he couldn't get past the blood, the concreat and the stench.

The gray of the walk in was the same gray as the prision he was in, it also sometimes held that sickingly clean stench that made the back of his throat burn and eyes threaten to water. It somtimes smelled just like the butcher shop whenever it was cleaned, and he couldn't stand the smell of meaty, blood riddled, sweaty, bleached induced clean. Something about it all made his stomach churned every day, as weeks of vomit began threatening to spill that he'd been pushing down for however long.

"I-I he, he followed me in, and was holding a bull heart, I was so petrified I froze up in the corner, I remember I got a cold fever and then everything went black-" He was rocking, not by much, but a little bit, just enough for the Doctor to take note as the patient's legs drew up tighter, as if he was trying to hide himself, protect hinself instinctively without knowing what was happening. "I-I woke up sore, he.." He began to gag, the idea of saying whatever he was ment to say, whatever really happened making itself known in the form of forceing him to become physicslly ill, his mouth salivating itself as he pulled at his collar, gagging down on his spit before he manged to get the lie out. "He beat me I supose–"

"But thats not what really happened is it? The beating, its not the full story when you came too was it?"

He couldn't even respond, he found his eyes darting around as they landed on the single trashcan next to the doctors desk, it being a little wastebasket that had an inlay in it, and no doubt a few other things–

Before he could properly think, he found himself lunging for it, his gags and heaves finally brought up what little he could keep down and eat theses past few days as tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. His body shaking as he found himself being dismissed and sent to his cell for the remainder of the day until he wished to see him again.

He didn't return for two whole days. One of them being due to him having started a fight, he tended to do this everytime they got close to the root of the problem, he would go find someone to fight with, winding up in solitary confinement for a day, and then return and less than larger to talk about his childhood.

When he finally got back in the office he took his spot over by the bed, pushed in the corner as he had his arms crossed, staring at the doctor as if he were trying to kill him with his look alone.

"I won't force you to talk about that incident from your childhood, although I feel if you were to talk about it, we could perhaps fix most of whats wrong with you," The other males voice came calmly, every day it came out calm and soft, except on the few occasions he let his temper get the better of him, whenever it came out low and filled with pure displeasure for the other male before him, who he now relized might be acting out so harshly towards society and other groups, due to something truely horrific happening to him in his childhood. "Why don't you tell me more about that woman? The one you forced to play tictactoe on her back with? Why..why not harm her more?"

"..I didn't harm her, just humiliated her–" He bounced back, matter of factly as if he knew exactly what he did.

"Well belive it or not, thats a form of harming someone, humiliation, especially public."

"..she just..I didn't want anything from her, I dont want from people, it just do–"

"So you didn't want sex from her? Or her money? You just wanted her to know you could have harmed her is that right?"

"Well, yeah something like that..I also thought it was funny~!" He was smiling out as he laughed at the memory of doing that to the woman, he found it genuinely humors still. He wouldn't harm anyone, he wouldn't kill anyone or purposely do something to them, and he certianly wouldn't assault them sexually, especially since he never felt much feeling pertaining to that..but humiliating and ordering people around? He enjoyed it, it was funny the fear in their eyes and shakey demeanor. He knew he wouldn't harm them– But they didnt know that.

The doctor made note to write 'Psychopathic' on his papers, and have him commited after his sentence was up.

"Funny..duly noted, but do you not feel that it might've also been power play? You did mention you had a switchblade—"

"Oh everythings something with you shrinks–!" He shouted back, jumping up from his seat as he did so, feet placed firmly on the floor now. "And you as a negro one are worse than any white man I've been stuck with!" His attitude suddenly switched, he was relatively calm and now here he was again huffing, puffing, angry as could be over him. "If it's funny that's all there is to it!" He smiled back, still finding it humors.

"Your defensive nature and attitude says otherwise.."

There was a gentle scratching sound, the type that was pen to paper. It was like clawing on the inside of his skull, how he felt himself inwardly clawing at himself, bashing, banging screaming to be let out and to fight, Fight, FIGHT!

"...."

And yet, he remained silent, his gaze glossy, clouded as his mind swam with a million thoughts, as they all circled into a whirlpool, his body stiffening as it shook gently, then violently as tears fell from the corners of his eyes. A broken sob breaking through his lips as his face contoured into that of a scared sobbing child's expression, before being thrown into the pillows and sheet of the bed that sat in the office. A louder sob breaking through as he bunched his fist up into the pillow, trying to will himself to calm down, yet all that he could get out was a broken wail, a wail he's been holding in for so so long, that it sounded agonizing as his chest hurt from it.

He laid there crying, for at least a total of four minutes. His heart aching as he wailed, chest hurting with each heaving breath that he couldn't quite get back into his lungs, his body shivering and shsking with a wave of nausea washing over him by each passing second.

Once he was finished he kept gagging into the trashcan, being sent off to the medical bay and given a prescription by the doctor to get nausea pills, and the Shrink himself would have some spare for him, since he didn't mind how he was working through whatever it was.

The doctor actually, quite without shame too, enjoyed the fact he was ill. All those nasty horrible things he spewed out, the hate in his heart as he spoke out in earlier sessions, the fact he was a sort of bigot the point of nazi ideologies, eveything. He was enjoying the fact he was getting ill, facing whatever demon it was that haunted him- what he didn't enjoy was the fact all of this could have been prevented if no doubt, he didn't grow up in the home he did, or maybe if he missed that meeting..or maybe, just maybe, if he had gotten help sooner rather than later.

He's not sure. He is sure however, that he both loved and hated it. Whatever he was doing, forcing the man to encounter whatever seemed to be doing some sort of work on him, since he didn't return much, he did but the seasons were either extramly short lived, or seveal hours of silence, with only a word or two breaking it.

He couldn't get it out, whatever it was, he had a feeling he knew what it was, and he knows as well as any other type of doctor that no one in their right or wrong mind would outwardly share, or confess that sort of information. The idea, the fact of being touched inappropriately is tragic enough as is, but the ides that it happened to the hateful man before him when he was a child, and by his own father was even worse. He can understand why someone would have such hate in them for such things. Someone whos an asshole, but ment to protect you harms you in the worst way imaginable, no wonder he turned put the way he did, and in the place he did, the one time he found solace and hope he was kicked again.

°•☆°•☆°•☆°•☆°•☆°•☆

Months, it had been months since initially starting the series of therapy sessions. Months since seeing this man, whos attitudes finally lightened up only slightly. Months turned into a full year of seeing him, almost daily, for several hours, and those spells and terrors persisted him, yet his bigoted nature was finally lightening up. Less talk about how the negro and jew were lesser than the white man, and more talk about other things, even a massive progress in asking how others were doing. It was a step in the right direction, even if he was still extramly withdrawn and more of a loner type.

Still, they weren't any further in the sessions when it came to sort of curing him, than when they started initially.

"This isn't working, so I'd like to offer a new approach." He looked up from his writing as the sound of the Paticent almost tossing himself onto the bed. Another thing he had grown to doing, being more..playful almost when entiering the office to get into the springy harsh bed.

"Like what? Give me whisky and hope I spill?" He beamed, a smile on his face as he chuckled.

"As much as I'm sure you'd love that, no, it's a breathing exercise."

The explanation was straight foward enough, sit up straight with his back pressed firmly against the back of either the chair or wall while sitting in said chair or on the bed. Deep slow breaths, hold, slow long exhale.

Nothing felt like it was happening at first. Those long breaths only manged to make him feel like he was finally getting enough air in his lungs, as he slowly felt what he could only asume was a sence of being relaxed.

"Is this going to go anywhere else?" He asked out slowly, hands resting on his stomach.

"I just need to make sure, your breathing is regulated."

The breathing exercises contuined, the time ticking by slowly as every little little tick sounded with his steady breaths. Before long he calmed enough to close his eyes as his body slumped onto his side as he fell into a relatively deep sleep. Gentle snores leaving him as he moved in his sleep, curling into a fetal position as he slept soundly. The way he brought his hands up to his mouth as he almost attempted to suckle on one, how he only started to stir and whine like a scared child when a nightmare started.

"N-noo..no im sorry..'M sorry I won't tell..'Mmm won't twell..noo- please I-I'll be good, I'll do it please dad- dad- hmm hmm s-stop stop it‐ stop- stop Stop- STOP–!" His body shot upright, sweat drenching him as he shivered and shook, tears falling from his eyes as he immediately backed into a corner. He didn't register his surroundings, eyes glued to the sheet and bed before being shut tightly, as he whined out, the sight of him rocking himself back and forth as he held his knees with his arms up to his chest muffled pleas filled the air again as the rocking slowed with him slowly leaning to the side once again.

Twice he fell asleep in the office, on the less than comfortable bed the first time he woke up was due to no doubt a night terror, and he seemed to have somewhat of a routine on how to sooth himself back to sleep. The second time he awoke, there was another terror, yet he was much more alert when he woke up panting, shaking from it this time around, wide awake in an instant as his eyes darted around the room like a paniced street cat.

"Did you rest well?"

"No, no I didn't." His voice came out cracked as his hand came to rub over his face, before both hands ran across his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them like he was a little kid. His breaths shakey still as he tried to regain himself.

That's been noted heavily on him, is that he almost reverts back into acting like a child when these terrors happen. Sure he rocked himself to sleep and to comfort himself, and then he was strangly coming off as a more than sleepy eyed child currently, there were other instances in his record as well.

Like the time he had a night terror which effectively woke his entier block up, and instead of properly helping him, they put him in solitary confinement for the night, assuming he was being an ass, doing it on purpose. The guards who were escorting him later remarked he kept crying, asking why they were being mean to him, it didnt seem right. When he was retrieved later he had an accident and was quiet for the following two days, not even speaking to a single soul.

Or that time he was allowed into the arts room, a prized place for the prisoners who are on extra good behavior. All he did was draw with crayons, some childish doodles, and rather disturbing things which were put into his file to study..keep on eye on rather. He didn't always do that, since he once manged to draw his psychiatrist extramly well, and had a picture perfect memory of the jewish woman, which he also drew. He claimed it was for artistic exercise, but he was rather found of painting and drawing.

He got his privileges revoked however, when he took a swing at a particular inmate and wound up in solitary again..that was a few weeks ago and he's been better again. Slowly but surely.

The constant naps and more secure office space was helping the paticent become more comftable, he was finally able to talk more and to some resemblance of to degree, how he was even becomeing slightly more sociable once again if only to his doctor. And then it came. The real test which backfired.

It was a year and a half into their sessions. They had finally gotten to a point where they began the breathing exercises, and he was less prone to insulting the doctor. The paticent had finally grown more intrested in talking, resting, and getting a cigarette as a reward more than anything. Almost like house breaking a scared puppy, easy to train and show that they can't do certian thjngs and can be calm with a reward, in this case a cigarette. The terror persisted and spells too hence the current issue.

Trying to use hypnotherapy on him.

The idea being, if he focuses and has no outwardly distractions, and can't fully run away, he'll be forced to confront the biggest issue, and get over that sinkhole in the road finally.

"Just focus on both your breathing, and the gentle swaying of the watch."

"Hmm..are you trying to hypnotize me?" The man asked as he gave a sort of coy smile as he leaned back to get himself comftable on the bed once again as he had done so meny times.

"No this is a relaxation exercise designed to make you feel totally relaxed and more willing to open up, about most things."

"So hypnotize me." He joked out, smiling at the idea in a baffled way. Hypnotizm..yeah as if that'd work.

"I'll give you two cigarettes if you try this." He offered, box already out, the reward taunting like a bowl of treats to him.

"Deal!"

The way he perked up instantly was all the notion he needed as he began the sort of exercise, holding the pocket watch out infront of him as he slowly swayed it, the movement hypnotic to the other who smiled at the entire thing, finding it more than ridiculous.

"Deep breath in, hold, deep exhale, focus."

As instructed, the paticent did his breathing routine, his eyes glued to the gentle sway of the watch, as rhythmic ticking of a clock filled his ears. It was soothing, mind numbing as he found himself giggling for some unknown reason. The feeling of being wrapped in a blanket followed suit as he slumped against the wall behind him as his eyes stayed on the watch swaying.

"Are you still with me?"

"Yeah~ m' here.."

"Good, I'm going to put this watch down and your going to hear it hit the table, when it does, you'll stay in this state alright?" He asked out, his eyes focused on his now dopy eyed paticent.

"Hmm." He hummed out in understanding, grasping every word as he lay proped up on his elbow now. Even if he wasn't hypnotized he was calm beyound reconzion.

"When I want you out of this state, I'll clap my hands together."

"Hmm."

"I need a yes or no."

"I read ya loud and clear doc~" Another giggle escaped him as he heard the watch hit the table, his mind fuzzy with relaxing, numbing joy. He felt like he was drunk– Or maybe high. Was this what people would boast about when they did drugs? Maybe he'll do that when he gets out– that sounded like a type of plain.

"Do you have a real name outside of sir or man?" The Doctor asked, finally wanting to get some form of name from the still unnamed paticent, any name he had given was a lie so he would like a real name.

"Hmm..Richard, but I prefer to be called Mack." His voice came out chipper, sing-aongy as he smiled, his body relaxing more as he laid down on the pillow looking at the doctor through half lided eyes.

"May I ask why?"

"Dont like my name, nothing good comes from it, bad stuff and memories, not even Richie, Rich, or Dick could save me." He stated out with a smile as he sprawled out on the bed. "..Mmm I like mack..like mackeral~ they're fun."

"By mackerel, you mean the fish correct?"

"Yeah~! Worked with a old fish monger once, those mackerel are big and strong, I like'em."

"..I think your confusing a mackerel for a marlin." The doctor spoke out, ready to hear some sort of pop off from the other who's face sank with sadness at some distant memory, before being able to ask his next question he was given something wild to consider.

"I miss my aunt- she used to watch me on the weekend and made fish, it was so crispy and nice, and my cousin would let me sleep on them.." His voice cracked slightly, the look on his face sad as can be as he closed his eyes, rolling onto his side as he whined out. "I miss that, wanna be a mack..mm, wanna go home– but there is no home no more."

He found himself curling into a fetal position again, hands even drawn up to his mouth as he played with his shirt, and the pillow, anything really to keep his mind occupied.

"That's good, I'll call you Mack, now will you tell me a bit more about your childhood Mack?" He asked out, voice calm as he observed the other who seemed to be growing in mild distress. "Maybe why you like to hide and curl up? Rock yourself to sleep even?"

The doctor didn't get a responce from him, all he manged out was a whine as he rubbed his face on the pillow. He was coming off as a little kid, his subconscious, or him without a wall up, was that of a child still. Emotionally, and mildly mentally stunted at a young age, unable to get past it so he acts out what he sees other adults doing, acts on what he thinks should happen..dispite the fact he has a lot of conflicting feelings with himself as well.

"Mack?"

"Why am I here?" His voice was so..small, as he kept his head down on the pillow but faced the doctor again his hand tangled in his shirt collar as he gently gnawed at it.

"Well, your here becuse you were apart of a nazi-sympathizer group that commited multiple felonies and misnomers, othweise hate crimes..so your here as punish–" He barely finished the sentence before his paticent broke into a broken sob curling up further.

Something about the gray concreat walls, and god only knows what else was probably keeping him in a constant stage of panic. He wonders if those sickly seafoam green colour's of a mental hospital would be better for him. If anything to keep him from being so...panicked, triggered all the time.

"But I did-! I dont! I want home! I want home! I hate the walls! Im sorry! Im sorry I want home! I'll be good I just want out–!!!" He was sobbing that broken guttural sob again, as if he just lost something most dear to him as was being forced to face the fact he lost it. His sobs became tangled garbled messes with a wordy soup spilling from his mouth, the same phrases, words and maybe a full sentence being repeated over and over again.

As much as the Doctor could have have once again found some mild amusing joy in his odd patients torment, the fact of the matter was, he didn't belong here. He didnt truly belong here now that his therapy for being a mildly better person had helped him only just so, but in reality he needed a hospital. He needed to be watched over, encouraged into group sessons, and helped..medicated and treated for not just his psychopathic nature but also his fits of fear and childlike behaviors.

"Mack, Mack calm down you're not in trouble when your in this room, it's alright," Its so odd, having to speak to a grown man as if he were a child. How his demeanor changed to that of a scared little boy when he finally lifted his head, wiping at his eyes and nose with his sleeved arms. "..Do you want to come over here and tell me what happened? Why your so scared of the walls?" He held his hand out for the man, a welcoming kind gesture he was sure he'd decline, yet no sooner did he hold it out did that dark hair man come rushing from the bed to hold his hand. His eyes watered still as he gave very shakey breaths, unable to speak at that moment but finding compleat and utter comfort in the fact he was being listened to, and had a hand to hold.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"No..no not right now..hm..m' hurting." He whimpered out, his free hand coming to place a hand on his chest in gesture to show his chest hurt, before it moved to wipe away his tears.

"Well it's alright, take your time.."

Silence followed, with shakey breaths breaking the air on ocassion, along with sad whimpering whines. When he finally manged to get his words out, it wasnt even about why he acted that way, it was simply about something so deeply buried inside of him, he had to get out since he knew in realty this wasn't much him at all..maybe not fully.

"I'm sorry, for..for things, and being mean..I dont know why I do that, I dont know why I feel I need to do that, I..I guess I get scared and just want to be protected and not hurt again..so I'm mean and vile, but- but no one..oh god–" another sob broke from his lips, his legs curling to his chest as he let go of his doctors hand, taking the time to curl into a ball in the chair as he rocked himself to calm down as best as he could.

He probably realized he was turning into some version of his father, and that would horrify anyone who hated their parent..the ides of turning into them..the thing you hate most.

Mack's mind was still foggy, like it had a film over it from the ealier attempt at hypnotic, which was great and all but the man was in such a state, moving all over the place it was becoming impossible to know when or even what he'd say next.

A loud clap snapped his head upwards, sad glossy eyes meeting the doctors own, a piercing rage and mournful look filled them, as he looked grief strikes and horrified all at once. His eyes resembled that of a painting, the sheer sorrow and emotion locked behind them was facinsting, yet horrible to stomach for long.

"I think today's season is over-"

"I dont want to leave..wanna stay here, its..safer."

"..Mack did the cla-"

"Shut up of cource it worked! I know what I mean when I say I wanna stay someplace! I-I dont wanna go back right now."

There was the paticent he knew and loathed, the one that was sometimes loud and so matter of fact about himself. The one who would go around ocassionaly starting fights but has gotten much better in the past three months.

"Alright, why don't you try laying down? Do your breathing exercises and rest a bit before heading back."

"Sounds peachy, don't get the watch after me again though." A smile cracked on his lips as he cautiously moved from the chair back to the bed, the breathing routine helping him as he finally calmed down enough to rest for a little while.

There was a lot to be added to his file, and the report for the others to read over. Due to his recent model behavior, they wanted to possibly release him early, seeing as he was coming off as mildly reformed now. Yet the doctor didn't feel he was ready to re-enter socity, let alone anything outside of a hospital.

It was now just a matter of continuing their sessions, and seeing if anything, how he could transfer him to any good, reputable hospitals..or institutes.

That was Wednesday, the beginning of his hypnotic sesson- come friday, all of hell broke loose.

No one could figure out what happened exactly, how it happened even, just that Mack was in the art room again after some time away from it, alone with one other prisoner who was new. He was engrossed in his own world, as he stitched together what resembled the beginnings of a stuffed animal, something he probably lacked as a child, while the other made a move.

No one saw what happened, all they heard was screaming, and then walked in on the one prisoner holding a broken nose, whole Mack was hiding under a table crying like a scared child. He was in the furtherest corner, and kept kicking anyone who came near him, wailing like some wounded animal the minute you got to close or grabbed him. When he was finally forced out he wet himself.

He was escorted to the showers and watched under supervision, then into solitary confinement, the entier time crying, sobbing still on how he was scared, and more importantly, was scared it would happen again.

The other inmate, was recently escorted to their penitentiary, on what soon spread throughout the place, charges of sexural misconduct around both young men, boys, and overall just any sort of men, but held a prefrance tor the younger looking ones.

He had a model behavior about him, so no one thought much of him, hence why he was able to get so close to the other. In an interview on how the fight happend, it was stated that he figured he'd swing that way, or at least not mind, especially since while he was sewing he had a childlike gleam in his eyes.

Mack was sobbing for hours after the incident, refusing to speak, let alone be anywhere that wasn't a corner. The man who was once this horribly arrogant man who was vile, now reduced to a sobbing shaking mess who kept hiding in his knees. When he was finally forced into the doctors office, he still cried, the only form of comfort he found was when his hands fumbled to grab his doctors. A step in a wonderful direction, considering he once hated the man before him.

If he were vulnerable enough to trust that he could hold his hand, could try and sit in the chair to speak, then no doubt could he maybe have a change out in the public..at least, once again, at a diffrent place.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

He shook his hesd 'No' tears streaming down his face still as he took up biting his other hand, body shsking as he bite down on his hand so hard it not only left marks, but he manged to draw blood. His hand needed patching, but he almost refused to be touched by anyone, even the nurse.

It was a whole nother day when he came around to the shrink, his head peaking in past the open gate to check if he was in. It was so early in the morning that the guards were gone, he should have been at breakfest himself yet here he was, looking like a frightened child seeking a parents comforting, and reassuring look after a nightmare.

"Mack, shouldn't you..be down with the others?"

"They let him out and I dont want to be anywhere near him.."

"Well, you still have to eat something.."

"I'll live..maybe."

"Come sit, sit."

He did just that, taking his usual spot on the bed after he accepted a cigarette, a small treat that let his mind go easy. It tasted better today, he really needed this.

"Hmm, this one's nice~ new brand?" He asked as he exhaled the smoke from his mouth, a dazed smile going across his lips as he looked at the doctor.

"No, I rolled a few myself for you, since you've been doing so good I figured you deserved the reward."

He only nodded in acknowledgement, the mixture sweet is his mouth with something sharp that was making him giggle and feel calm. He was making the room smell sweet and like nicotine.

"Thanks~ needed something like this today more than ever..only thing better would be a drink."

A sort of soothing silence filled the air around them. The fact of simply existing was nice, seeing as he felt almost..safer in the the little room.

"Hey doc, lemme ask you something..off the record if I could." He looked over at the doctor as he took another drag, a weak smile coming on his lips as he did so. "How bad is a suicidal confessions? Or self inflicting injuries ones'.."

"Well they're extramly serious, I would have to report them, and you would be placed on hold, and possibly given an emergency evaluation to see if you might need a transfer to a place better equip to..help you and your needs, why do you ask?"

"...Just curious is all..what if I ask for it to be off the record? I..I'm again just curious."

"I'd still have to make note of it, but if you have something you'd like to say, but not currently wish for any of the..other measures to happen I can hold off on those for a solid day."

"Oh really? Well aren't you swell~! Aha!"

A silence once agsin followed, the man messing with his cigarette as he gently flicked it to get the ash onto the concreat floors. Eyes still glossy and hazy with something screaming in his chest.

"I bite myself to calm down..and it's getting worse since the other day...and this month really.." He suddenly confessed out, eyes glossed over with a look of pure pain and agony. " I've done it since I was little, biting myself to calm down..remember I stabbed myself in the leg with a kitchen knife– I thought I'd die but I just had...so much blood on the floor and a hospital visit."

It was quiet still. Nither talking much after that statement, Mack staring into some place far beyound the room, while the doctor was making a series of mental notes.

"I really miss it, the pain..but I'm tired Doc, I'm..I'm so tired I've not gotten better and I'm tired– I just want to sleep.." His voice came out shakey as he looked truly devastated, the look on his face akin to a child once agsin as he curled up, holding his face in his hands as well. "I want out, I want something that doesn't remind me of the walk-in freezer.."

"Would you like to talk about it? Or about yesterday even?" His voice came out calming, something he didn't want, something he almost hated, he didn't like how soothing the voice was, how he was able to keep it at the same tone and volume that created an ease in the air that purred him into a sence of safty.

He loathed it all really.

"I-I was.." His breathes came out shakey with his words, his body quivering as he felt tears coming into his eyes while even attempting to formulate the words. "I think I was molested as a child.." He finally pushed the words from his mouth, almost gaging on them as he did so, a small broken sob escaping him as he hid his face from the doctor.

Those were the words he had been keeping locked up for so so very long.

The words that caused him sleepless nights, the words that caused him agony and made him feel unlovable, not manly enough, and just plain awful. The words that made him believe he deserved everything becuse thats what he was told when it happened, that he brought it on himself.

"I-I think, I- I- he..he- mm-my father he-he–" The words wouldn't come out of his mouth, as he sobbed uncontrollably, his heart and chest acking as an intense wave of emotions crashed over him making him gag and feel sick. "I-Im gonna be sick–" He manged out as he stumbled to the trashcan, gagging up last nights exuse for dinner. How everything came up until it was simply bial and even then he couldn't help himself from gaging as he unbuttoned the top most part of his shirt, feeling as if he were being suffocated by his collar pressing too tightly aginst his throst.

He didn't leave the sesson after that, he refused to honestly. He didn't want to go out there, be faced with people, be seen and talked about just like when he was a child. He didn't want any of that, that humiliating pain and to face the man who wanted and tried to get hands with him. He wanted home, but as he had stated previously, he had no home to go to..even if he got out on good behavior, its not like he could really go anywhere, and the Doctor in no good conscious could rightfully let him step back into socity, a combination due fo his obvious mental disturbances, and..other things needing help.

"Please take your time talking about this Mack, go into as much or as little detail as you'd like." He reassured the paticent, who was now curled back into that familar corner legs drawn up under him as he tightly held a pillow in his arms, a vague nod accompanied by a humming responce was all he manged out. Eyes still glossy with pain.

"Whats the..the difference between umm..rape and..being molested?" He asked, voice trembling as he got the words out, still not meeting the Doctor's gaze, as it stayed focused on anywhere but him.

"Well, in short one typically involves penetration, or oral, and the other is simply groping, or being ground aginst." The answer only made him sicker, as he gave a weak heavy sigh as he buried his face in the pillow, feeling his world collapsing around him.

Why couldn't he have just had a normal childhood, why couldn't he have had a loving father and family? Why couldn't he have not been born– even if the sole silver lining in his kife was thst woman he met, her sweet smile, he still hated everything else about his life.

"I-I think I was both..mm-multiple time," He got the words out then went silent again. He would contuine this, speaking, then sit in silence, for the rest of however meny minutes passed u til he manged the words out.

It took at least another solid five minutes before he finally got more words out, how he forced himself to talk about the events that happened between him and his father, the details still fresh in his mind as if they happened yesterday, and while the doctor has gone through assault cases, there was somrthing particularly disturbing about this one..mostly due to who he was talking too, and that it happened to him as a child.

It wasnt just his father however, it was sometimes one of the meny women his father would bring home too. How they'd 'Join the Fun' while drunk, and how he was too little to do anything about it, he still was small. Relying on a switchblade, wits and speed to get him out of trouble vs any real acts of voilence..

The worst of it all, was the locker incident of cource, how he started vomiting from it agsin, sobbing from the memory as he wailed out in anguish. He couldn't breath as his chest twisted with a pain so heavy he thought he was going to die, how his hesd was pounding and he felt just awful. Thst was awful, but then hearing about a seven year old suicide plan, and learning he was in a hospital, and had already been diagnosed with some form of Pyschopathy, not to mention he was..well, ment to be taken from his parents, both of which had a horribly unhealthy, traumatizing obsession and expirence with their child.

It was no wonder he ran away at only thirteen, especially after so meny hospital visits.

"You wanna know the worst part about it all? I still blame myself– becuse of what he told me..He told me, that since I couldn't fight back I wanted it– and it made me a faggot..well I feel like he's also one for doing that to me," His voice had calmed down, still rushed with a crack here and there as he spoke out, but finally less sobs coming from him. "But..but I-I know it's not my fault, I was a kid what could I do you know? I-I just..I didnt..I-"

"When victims of abuse are told by their abusers that they bring it on themselves they often belive it, becuse its all they know." The doctor spoke out finally, having stayed relatively silent throughout the entier thing as a means of getting him talk, not wanting to ripple it and have him shut down again, since it was good that they were finally getting this out in the open. "This is especially true with victims of sexural assult, especially when it happens to them as children..Your father knew what he was doing, as did those women, and even your mother's unhealthy obsession with you..they all knew what they were doing."

"Y-Yeah but..But–"

"No, no buts, you have guilt and feel bad due to only knowing what they told you, and having that underlying sence of fear that you didn't want to be taken away becuse what if the hospitals were worse to you, correct?"

"..Yeah, yeah I-I got told I'd get lobodmised becuse I was so bad..I-I didn't, I dont want that doc, I-I don't please–" He started rocking to calm himself again, the motion helping him as he tried to get all of the words out but was failing, all he knew was that the man before him had the power to get him treated in any way he saw fit, and he didn't want to be hurt or threatened like when he was little.

"You shouldn't have to have one, those are a lot more rare now a days Mack, but you would be on supervised watches and given medication no doubt, and entered into group sessons." He told him softly, the voice like a light in a dence fog that helped him through this more than horrible time in this little room where he was pouring out his secret.

Then it hit him. He was talking about committing him, talking about a mental hospital as if he were going to get commited, he didn't want to be commited. That was the last thing he wanted, he wanted anything but that. They'd be horrible to him, and not to mention the damn doctors and god knows how meny jewish ones there would be, and he still had problems with the whole race and antisemitism..He was going to get him commited.

"..Hey– Hey, hey wait, wait a minute–" He got that famialr wild look in his eyes, that panic that always came before an attack yet this time something was diffrent. He didn't faint, he was thrown into a frenzy of pure terrorized panic over the mere idea of being commited. "Y-You're gonna have me commited! You're trying to commit me! I-I already told you im fine! Im fine! Im not– I-I- I'm a good boy! I'm good I'm good!!" His words were all rushed, some slurred as he began fo pace to room, his breathing too quick as he hyperventilated with his pacing. He looked ill, he looked too pale and was virtually running off of spit, and adrenaline which was no doubt going to crash on him soon.

"Mack, im not going to commit you today, but the fact of the matter is–"

"IM NOT CRAZY DAMNIT—!!" On that final note his body stiffened as it swayed, before collapsing onto the floor. He only just narrowly missed hitting his head on the wooden chair.

He was sent to the infirmary, where he was restrained to his bed for whenever he did wake up he wouldn't try anything deemed stupid.

While he was there, the doctor presented his report to the others.

His behaviors had improved so he was looking at his sentence beinf shortened severely, he would be allowed to leave soon if he stayed behaving for the rest of the month, but seeing as there was thst recent incident they weren't certian about it now. However, with the stack of evidence on how mentally disturbed the man was, how he seemingly couldnt function properly even on 'Normal' days, and how he, if allowd to leave the prision early, should frankly be commited to a very nice, reputable, good mental hospital that wasn't far from them.

Of cource no one thought it was all that serious, they knew he was a wonderful doctor, and he was an exallent addition to the staff sure, but as much as it pained him, he had to admit that the man was correct..he was still a diffemt race at the end of the dsy, so sometimes even with a stack of evidence, the older members of higher ups wouldn't fully want to believe his words, wanting to hear it from the prisoner himself.

Which is exactly what they got.

When he finally woke up he was surrounded by them a combinstion of being restrained, and still reeling from having confessed his worst kept secret he was more than sensitive, unable to properly think or speak still which the others were warned about.

"W-what's all this? Why am I tied down- why- why am I in a bed?!" He instantly started trying to pull at the restraints, his expression fearful and confused as tears welled up in his eyes. "I thought I wasn't in trouble!"

"Now Mack, you aren't, but the restrains are to help ensure you won't try to..bite yourself into bleeding again alright?" The doctor reassured him, thier eyes meeting as the words filled the others esrs, it finally hitting him as he nodded slowly, becoming only slightly less paniced as he took time to attempt those bresthing exercises through tears and shskey breaths. "I understand its very difficult, going from being in my office to now here, but you fainted again."

"I-I know, I got scared, thought you were gonna commit m-me." He shakily stated, eyes red and puffy from the sheer amount of crying he's done over the cource of sevral hours.

"Do you not wish to be commited?" Another doctor asked him, but recived no answer from the inmate, who simply stared at him as if he were something trying to kill him as he whined out, pulling at his restraints again.

"I want out, I want out-!" He whined, voice pitched diffrent as he grew restless, pulling at the leather restraints again as he cried. "I want out!! I told you I-I'll be good! Im good im good! Im a good booy!" He cried out again, not at all caring for the others as he began thrashing around, the doctor almost helpless as all he did was watch his psticent he's worked so hard with, lose himself as he fell into a hysterical fit of crying.

"Get him a sedative please, he's only hurting himself more than anything." He spoke put, as another went to grab a nurse to give him a sedative something they rarely if ever used on the prisoners.

A minute passed and he was even more paniced when faced with a needle, when faced with the horrific fact of that was going to go in him, and gave him god knows what. The thrashing became even more desprate as he was held down and given the sedative, the only saving grace for him was that he saw a reassuring look, and some mouthed words from his doctor.

Just like that, he was out again. The evidence now becoming prevalent enough to show that, after he calms down more he'll have a few more evaluations and then moved someplace, hopefully the reccomend hospital to proper psychiatric help.

°•☆°•☆°•☆°•☆°•☆°•☆

A full month flew by in an instant, and something changed after those three hard but telling days. Between the incident in the art room, him spilling his guts to the doctor, and then a full day of sedative induced rest, he was finally able to..well sleep, and the proper sleep inproved his attitude and outlooks, and those two things, well a little bit of everything helped him. Something switched in him was all, like a block in the road finally gave way, or rather a damn broke and natural water returned to where it was ment to be.

He was still very reserved, still not one to talk with others and avoided eveyone practically, but was able to hold conversations.

It was good, how much he changed, even if in his sessons he kept coming to he still held some disliking for others, but he now simply sounded like a man who didn't trust anyone and took years to open up and trust, rather than a bigoted nazi sympathizer..which was the goal.

The entier case almost broke the doctor truth be told. Especially on the day before his final day there, how they stayed in his office until 2am. How the man before him was restless and needed a lot of advice.

"I would have asumed you'd be giddy to face the board and get out so soon..its only been a year and maybe three months, as opposed to your three year sentence." He stated out to the man who was anxiously pacing the room, his hands being held behind his back as he struggled to stay still.

"I'm scared, I'm worried, I-I dont like it here but I'm scared to be out.." He stated, a few more laps of back and forth before he finally stopped to sit on the edge of the bed, facing the other male before him.

"Well fear is a normal reaction to change–"

"I want to know what exactly would come from me being commited.." He suddenly stated, his heart racing as he cleared his throat, a look of worry plastered on his face. "I-I want to know please."

"Well, alright then if you would like to know, if you got commited you would have to take a test..can you read and write?"

"Fairly, I'm not good with too big words however, I-I know them if you read them aloud but I can't always read them..myself, my writing is..subpar." He admitted suddenly, looking away for a moment.

"Hm, well im sure they wouldn't mind helping with reading it aloud, a staff member would assist you with that."

"That's nice."

"It truly is, now the test would determine a little bit about yourself, and then you'd also be analyzed by a psychiatrist, who you have to tell everything to..they'd also be getting a copy of this file I have on you."

"You have a file on me?" His browser furrowed as his head shot up suddenly, confused at the fact he never relized he was actually taking notes on him.

"I have a file on everyone, even the staff Mack." He stated out plainly, taking his glasses off to clean them before he continued. "A combination of those two things, and the file would determine where you belong in the hospital, including whenever you get fits." He told him.

"Oh.."

"It would involve daily therapy, and even group sessons and support groups, you'd be meeting people who are similar to yourself, some worse off some better..Most hospitals are..well all have the same sort of layout especially mental hospitals, but the walls are a nice soft green."

"That's nice, I like green..her coat was soft green you know."

"The jewish woman's?"

"Yes, her cost was s minty green, one of them was anyhow..was scared I'd ruin it when I got close to her.." He smiled at the memory, he still after all this time was admiring her, even in memory.

"Well im sure the hospital would be quite comforting if anything due to the colour..you would also get recess, arts and crafts, its very..they're quite nice, but you also understand you would no doubt have jewish doctors..perhaps another negro one."

His face fell flat, something he still couldn't help when thinking about it. The only person he actively liked who happend to be Jewish was that one woman, and he liked his doctor now but it took him a whole year to like him practically.

"Do I have to have one?"

"Well if not one you'd get some generic white man, but whos to say he'd be any better than the others?"

"Hmm...well you're useless." Is all he mutter out as he leaned back crossing his arms as he pursed his lips together in a straight line, a look of disappointment on his face.

He didn't know what he expected honestly, it was a mental hospital, he would be commited, he didn't know why he had some notion that it would be paradise where he would be free with supervision..but at the same time, the ides of trying to re-enter normal society, trying to navigate things again.

Sure, he still had a mildly bigoted outlook on people, but he's realizing more and more each day he just doesn't like people as a whole. Its hard for him to trust, to like, to do anything with anyone, he just held a prejudice aginst others becuse of those damn meetings he went to, which he's now shockingly realizing are stupid..but maybe a bit true, but mostly dumb. They didn't help him with anything in life, except land him here in prision, which did help him, if only due to mandatory therapy sessons, so maybe thst was good..but he still didnt like how his life was. He was 30 years old with absolutely nothing but a lot of baggage to show for it.

"Im sorry, I didnt mean it like that, just ment it as in..well I..I dont know what I ment it as." He confessed out.

"I understand what your trying to say, and appreciate the apology, that's very good, your doing very good."

"Hm..thanks."

It was silent for a while longer, the only other question that came up was, "What would happen if im simply released?" Which was answered with a less thsn appealing answer. They have halfway houses of sorts, small programs to help people work but ultimately you take a bus, and are sent off to fend for yourself.

He was so tired of doing that, of fending for himself, of fighting evey day for something and trying to prove himself he was tired of that.

"If I talk with the board, and tell them I want something, will they do it for me?"

"To some degree yes, you'll also have my vote.."

"Whats your vote?"

"To have you commited..thats my vote regardless on what you choose."

He couldn't help but laugh at the words that came from the other, how he wanted so badly to have him commited since seeing him, it was amusing to him. All of it was honestly, but he couldn't fully be bothered with the rest of things, especially not as the clock stuck 3 and he called it quits for the night.

Come the morning, he was groggy, clean, and in his little suit he arrived in. Looking almost unrecognizable as he sat outside a room, before being called in, asked in private with a room full of prison officials and doctors on what he felt like doing, confessing it to them, then leaving the room to await his answers.

It took them no more than maybe fifteen minutes to decide his fate, and when they finally did he couldn't help but smile, which shocked his doctor. He was going to be commited to a very nice place, one where he could get the proper help he needed finally, and no more of those horrific panic inducing grey walls.

It was over, he was happy and mildly free, but most importantly, it was over for eveyone, and no one would have to deal with him again..still the Psychiatrist left the prison later that day as well, deciding maybe this particular job wasn't for him, but he left with the satisfaction that the man he worked with tirelessly was commited at least.

°•☆°•☆°•☆°•☆°•☆°•☆

"Mack, you have a visitor here." A nurse called out to the room full of people gathered around a TV in a living room sort of spot. The floor carpeted wirh fairly comftable couches, and the paticents field well behaved. A man lifted his head up as he got off the floor, he was in jeans with a tshirt and baggy jacket as he followed the nurse to see this visitor. Not knowing who would know or want to see him he simply kept quiet as he walked with her. It had been a few months since being commited there, and he was by far the best paticent they had..well outside of his ocsssional fits and night terrors that still happened. He finally got to the visitation room where he reconized someone, a smile spreading on his fsce as he rushed up to the man.

"Hey- Hey Doc! Doc!!" He beamed out, going in for a handshake. "How've you been?" He asked, noticing that either he got shorter or the doctor was taller than he remembered.

"I'm well Mack, and I'm glad to see you doing well too." He told the other.

"Hows the prison?"

"I wouldn't know I quit later that same day you were commited.."

"Really?"

"Yes, I just...it wasn't for me anymore you see, you were the case that took the life out of me one could say, I now work at a pyscatric hospital/asylum..its very good work I've already been promoted."

"Oh wow thats great!"

They sat in silence after thst little short conversation, before Mack smiled, deciding to tell the other a bit about how his own life was going.

"Im on the ahh..Model paticents list, becuse im so well behaved, they dont really get why im here sometimes..but then they remember whenever I get a fit." He laughed out, remembering the time someone snuck up on him a while ago and how he got paniced from it. "I also have a very nice doctor, he's jewish and I think I only said a few bad things to him."

"Does he know about the file?"

"Know about it? He pulls it out ehenever I go on a tagent, and it makes me go quiet, he loves to show me how thick it is it swear..only mildly annoying." He huffed out, leaning on the table as he proped himself on his hand and elbows.

"Well you seem to be doing quiet well, I'll come see you again soon–"

"You're leaving already?"

"Yes, I have to go to work, I'm..well I'm just doing paperwork today so I decided to go in a little later, stop by and check on you is all, but I'll be back when I can."

Be back when he can..yeah right, he just wanted to make sure he wasn't trying to kill himself or anyone probably, wanted to show off his fancy new job and how much of a pain in the ass he was-

'Quit it, he was being nice Msck.' He told himself, the internal thought snapping him out of his funk as he gave a vague smile before watching him leave, he doing the same as he was escorted back down the hall by a nurse.

He liked it here, to some degree, then again he was in the special wing, where all the good paticents were and it made him feel special, how he could get away with so much. Or rather, how he could sway the nurses into getting him more snacks and such, according to them he was quite the charmer which did wonders for his ego.

Not like he wanted them however, just wanted them to get food for him, becuse of course he wanted chocolate constsntly.

Sevral more months passed since he last saw his old doctor, it dawning on him he never did catch his real name, even a last name. Well whatever, he didnt seem to mind.

Besides, Mack had bigger worried..like exposure therapy.

He kept showing increasing anxiety when asked about what he would want to do for work or living when being let out, which would send him spiraling into another one of his episodic fits where he proved he wasn't ready for the outside quiet yet, and far from ready to be a functional member of socity. So they took up trying various methods of exposure therapy, the idea being he go out with someone who worked with the hospitsl as a volunteer, and be taken into town or in a car for just a little bit.

The issues arose whenever he took up hiding, or getting into a fight with any of the male volunteers, even those who were the bookish type he didnt like.

They tried women, and he didnt like most of them either, and the few he did like, they didnt like him. It was either they find one last person or he do the therapy with hospitsl staff which he wouldn't mind but the idea of having somone new was very appealing to him still. The idea of a new face to talk with and hear stories from was fun

Which brought him to now. He had two meetings back to back. One last attempt with a male who he hated upone seeing them, still needing help around strangers especially men in too close range, as he threw pillows and a few books at him as he took up hiding until he left.

And then her.

She was..so sweet.

She had dark hair, soft bright eyes that reminded him of a gentle time in his life, one he knew almost instsntly. Her eyes reminded him of warm hazelnuts, her smile so soft as she stood in the room, gently encouraging him to come out from under his bed.

"Oh do come out, take your time! But come out please, I'm sure nothing will get you!" She assured him, her voice soft and gentle as he crawled out from under the bed, noticing just how gorgous she was. He couldn't help the smile that spread on his face as he met eyes with her.

"Oh there you are! I was worried the hospitsl staff was playing some crude joke on me~" she teased, something about her so chipper and comforting, like a caregiver almost.

"Oh, aha..no, just hm..last person was–"

"Aha, I-I'm m not that young im 31-"

"Another guy, I heard, I-I'm very sorry for whats happened to you, you seem like such a nice young man."

"Oh well im only 29!"

They both fell into a fit of laughter, as she held her hand out for him to shake.

"Francine!"

"..Mack, but..but maybe I'd let you call me Richard."

"Oh, do you prefer Richard?"

"No– I hate it actually, but im willing to try something new with you Francine." He smiled at her, the two making it as far as her car before he started getting ansy. His body shaking before he grew increasingly restless to the point she walked him back into the hospital, promising to see him tomrrow.

And she did, she showed up the next day, then the day after, and the next, and the next, even on days no therapy was scheduled, she made sure to visit him.

"I know your doing this for money.."

"Im not actually getting paid for any of this it's all volunteer work, and to help with my nursing job!"

"..What?"

"Yeah! Im going to be a nurse~ but I need hours and well..volunteer work seemed nice is all."

He was amazed with that the fact she wss willing to go off and do volunteer work in the name of what..hours to become a nurse? To flaunt thst shes helping some poor fucked up man? He didn't really know nore care too much, all he knew was that he was smiling at her everytime he saw her.

Their sessions contuined for a very long time, and before he knew it, he got to do his own volunteer work– keeping her house clean.

A very unconventional arrangement. She works and is doing her portion of volunteer work with him still, and he? He was some odd house wife-husband no..no that involves being married he was..he doesn't know, he does know that she's the best thing ever to happen to him and he also is getting over his nusaitng fear of raw meats when cooking and shopping.

Its fun.

He loved it.

He wants to live with her like some fun cuddly roommate– but he almost knows thsts impossible.

Especially now that he's cowering in the kitchen floor, blood dripping from his hand as he hypervenlates, crying out over both pain snd agony from an all to familar feeling as someone hitting the basement door could be heard.

He wss back to squear one, and on supervised visitsions from her now, and also having to attended a court case for shoving somone down a flight of stairs.

Its not like he went back to prison– no he ws just...transferred to a diffent spot in the hospitsl until he got alright again..

He doesn't think he'll ever be alright again, he was never alright and good to begin with, never normal so..so what was he suposet to model life after– especially whenever he got so paniced and flighty.

He just knows he had the worst habits of bleeding onto kitchen floors after attacks happen, and he wonders if he'll ever die on a tile floor like he does in his dreams still.

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