“I’ve been waiting,” he said with an authoritative undertone.
I kept his gaze and refused to clock the time. I wasn’t late. I was five minutes early. “We’d better get started then, shouldn’t we?”
He can go fuck himself.
A tick flexed in the corner of his jaw before he offered me a staff identification card. “This doubles as a swipe card, which grants you access to all areas of the facility. Come, I’ll lead you to your office.” Turning for a side door, he didn’t wait to see if I followed. “The name’s Fern. I’m head of Oakview Security.”
As if I couldn’t tell by the blatant badge plastered over his chest in clear block letters.
I rolled my eyes behind his back as he led me through multiple checkpoints, the barren corridors already compressing on what little happiness was hidden within.
Fern came to a halt outside a thick timber door. “I only have one rule: follow my instructions, every instruction. I’m here for your protection. I can’t protect you if you don’t follow orders, Miss Olivia Chaser.”
“Doctor Chaser.” The alias rolled off my tongue, slick as honey.
I didn’t need my ability to feel the direct potency of misogyny radiating from him. My insides preened with glee. Maybe I could have some fun after all.
My office was so bland and suffocatingly mundane, it was sure to suck the life out of you (if you still had any left). The colourless cell held a desk directly in the centre, bolted to the ground with two weighted metal chairs lined on either side. Rest assured, I wouldn’t be assaulted by the damn furniture. Comfort seemed to be a non-existent concept.
A stack of patient files lay haphazardly on the desk. I sifted through the contents until I found the name that had held residence in my mind ever since I’d first heard it.
The reason I was here. The person I’d sought to find, hoping he’d be the gateway to our many unanswered questions. I opened the file.
Alias: Psycho
Legal Name: Unknown
Sex: Male
Age: 21
Variant Status: Unknown
Sentence: Homicide — 25 years to life
Diagnosis: Psychopath
Assessment:
-Anti-social behaviour
-Nil emotional response, lack of empathy and/or remorse
-High risk of violence and dangerous behaviour (multiple unprovoked assaults)
-Resistant to all treatment options. Refuses to engage
Findings: Minimal chance of rehabilitation
Treatment: If patient remains the same twelve months into sentence, advised lobotomy
I lifted a brow, perusing the assessment notes from the previous shrink. I didn’t know the circumstances of their abrupt departure, although I could hazard a guess. Oakview had a high staff turnover rate, the previous two psychiatrists lasting six weeks altogether (not that I was supposed to be privy to that information).
Either way, I didn’t care. The dangers and risks were nothing compared to what I’d experienced. I was here for one job only. More specifically, one person only.
I will not fail.
There was a quick rap at the door before a tall male swaggered through the archway. He assessed me with hunger, his porcelain veneers gleaming a winning grin.
“I’m Mr Burner, Manager of Oakview. We spoke on the phone.”
We shook hands, his fingers lingering longer than necessary. I plastered on a fake smile while discreetly rubbing my palm clean over my thigh. “A pleasure to be a part of the team, Mr Burner.”
We made small talk—the generic bullshit normal people pretended to care about—as he presented the grand tour.
Burner’s pristine image was comical, in complete contrast to his surroundings: coiffed blonde hair, accompanied by an expensive suit two sizes too small.
“I must say, you look young for your age,” he said. “Your resume was extraordinary. You shone above all other applicants.” The compliment fell short, due to there being no other applicants.
I’d nearly killed Spencer when she’d submitted my fake credentials. She’d added an extra ten years to my twenty, alongside other ridiculous qualifications. Thankfully, no one had dug up an old trumpet…the mission would have been compromised immediately.
“Protection and safety are of the utmost importance,” he rambled on. “There are cameras running 24/7 in all communal areas. Due to confidentiality, we can’t place surveillance within individual rooms. If you feel unsafe at any time, please alert Fern.”
I feigned interest, nodding at appropriate pauses, when a distinct bell rang through the speakers, announcing lunch.
“Let me take you to the cafeteria. You can get a glimpse of your patients. After that, we can get more acquainted in my office.” He pressed a hand to my lower spine, directing me forward.
