Something he could work with. Despite everything he was still unable to fully stop working. Profiling. If it kept him alive then he had to keep going. Keep fighting. Dying down here would do no one any favours. For fucks sake, he’s a WHITLY in his heart. And no Whitly laid down and died. They fought, tooth and nail until they could do no more. His wound would not kill him. Only slow him down. He could compartmentalise around it.
“ Well my father is a convicted serial killer and since prison has only been there to psychologically screw me up. My mother did her best with the bomb field he left. Neither would do what your parents did.” He would not take jabs at his mother kindly. She had done her best with what she had and had taught him his strength. His ability to get through the toughest situations that were emotional came from HER.
Dr. Whitly would not approve of this. No, there was no experiment here. This was a lesson and one that he’d never put his son through. That night is so broken and hazy to the profiler but he needs to know. It claims his thoughts nightly. “What is your end goal here?”
𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄, 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆’𝗌 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖽𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖽𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆’𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉. 𝖠𝗇𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾. 𝖤𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆’𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗒𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗅𝖾𝖽. 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝟣%, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝗎𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌.
❝ 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝖽 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 ‘𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗁, 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗑𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖼 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒. ❞ 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗄, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖬𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗆 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾. ❝ 𝖡𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝖽. 𝖨 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗋. ❞ 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇’𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗇.
𝖠𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌? 𝖶𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌. 𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 ‘𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌’ 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗒. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇’𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅.
❝ 𝖡𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝗐𝖾'𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾. ❞ 𝖮𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽, 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗌.