𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫: 𝐀𝐧 𝐄𝐲𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐀𝐧 𝐄𝐲𝐞

𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫

There's something really unsettling about the way there is footprints in the fresh snowfall that walk right up the sliding glass door on her back porch and turn away, walking back into the forested area surrounding her home. Y/N's stomach twists in discomfort, watching as the new snowflakes falling from the sky cover up the evidence of the creep who was peeping into her home. She has to get to work.

Agent Martinez and Y/N walk to the elevators, just like the day before. Today she received another patient profile. He's a young man staying in the maximum security ward on the 3rd floor, Room 108.

"Mr. Woods is incredibly disturbed, I must warn you. He's the most dangerous patient here. He was actually apprehended a few states away, but he was brought to this facility. He's a sick, sick man and if we ever want to see change in him, he needs us; the best of the best." The man begins denoting as you look over the document again. The Subordinate is deemed America's most secure psychiatric centre and it has the highest recovery and release rate compared to others across states. It's almost like a prison but with therapy and rehabilitation. That's why patients are kept in cells and not their own personal dorms.

"I've heard of this guy before. Isn't he one of America's most wanted criminals?" Y/N wonders, watching the numbers change as the elevator takes them to the top floor.

He nods, "He's suspected to have racked up over 1000 victims in the last 7 to 8 years."

"Jesus. . . With that many victims, why wasn't he just sent to prison? Throw away the key at this point, there's no way he'd be released with that many bodies." Y/N argues as they step off the lift and head down the hall. This floor looks nearly identical to the Moderate Security floor, only there's policemen loitering around in every direction.

"The court deemed him criminally insane and unfit for prison. He was off his rocker during his trial, saying all types of crazy shit. You should see his court tape." They finally reach Jeff's section of ward, he's waiting in an interrogation room with the guard from yesterday looming in the corner, obviously here to monitor him. This room is different; there's thick, impenetrable glass separating the two with a speaker in the middle to talk to each other. Y/N walks into her side of the room and takes a seat before smiling at her new patient.

Jeffrey Woods is sat in a metal chair, swaddled in a straight jacket. His ankles are shackled together with its chain connected to the chair that's bolded to the concrete floor. The infamous smile isn't what people would expect. He looks disfigured. His smile isn't any larger as the wound healed together, but left a nasty rouge scar up both sides of his face. The wounds around the corners of his mouth refuse to heal, as the skin is constantly shifting so there is a bit of tear that will always remain. His eyes are wide, sapphire with tiny pupils. No eyelids. His skin is tough and leathery.

Y/N read in his file that his skin is the result of a '4th degree burn', as doctors are calling it. Doctors are learning more about this 4th degree burn and how unique it is from any other burn degree. As far as American professionals have discovered, never before have they seen another person with a condition like Jeff. They are trying to discover how he is even possible. His hair was not singed off, but instead, his brown hair became a charred aniline colour. The bleach and alcohol together had a whitening effect on Jeff's skin, one doctors still can't wrap their heads around. He's a medical miracle, truly.

"Good morning, Doc'. Let's be quick here, I have to take my eye drops." Jeff jeers, a flat tone in his deep voice. The eye drops he's referring to? Well, with no eyelids, he still needs to lubricant his eyeballs so he doesn't go blind— or so she assumes. She's a not an optometrist.

"Good morning, Jeff. My name is Dr. L/N. It's a pleasure to meet you." She introduces herself.

"The pleasure is all mine, Doll." That's another thing about Jeff, apparently he's extremely charismatic and charming. It's easy to fall into his manipulative traps, it happens so rapidly that you don't even realize and before you know it you're in too deep. While she was entering the building this morning, she spoke to his apothecarist, a woman who prescribes medication to Jeff and many other patients around the hospital; she warned her about his charm. He's almost like Ted Bundy, she joked. On his chart it says: Dark Triad (in development).

"To save you your precious time, let's save the trivial conversation for the next meeting." Y/N proposes, looking him straight in the eye, almost like she's trying to intimidate him. Him. She can only try, "What is your motivation for murder?"

His face lights up, "Oh, Doctor. I don't even know where to begin." His tone is playful, with a disturbing tremor in his voice. He speaks like an artist who's in love with his craft. Come to think of it, maybe he really is that passionate for disembodiment and death. "In our society, good cannot exist without evil. My job is to bring out the good in the world in contrast to my, as you 'professionals' would put it, sadistic crimes."

He starts to cackle, throwing his head back. Y/N kinda misses his nonsensical joke, not really understanding why that is funny. Exactly. It's not. He continues some more.

"Nothing is more beautiful than the fearful expression paralyzed on a corpse's face after I kill them in their bed. Watching the light leave their eyes is what I live for." His eyes roll back slightly, and he shakes a little, like a shiver of pleasure just ran down his spine.

"That's pretty twisted, Jeff." Y/N declares, etching down his response onto her notepad in perfect cursive.

"You sound unamused, Doctor. Would you like more detail?" The man taunts. He must be finding this wildly entertaining, his smile hasn't faded from his face. In fact, he's grinning so tightly that the scabs around his lips are beginning to reopen, red oozing down his chin.

"No. Thank you." She brushes him off, finishing her report and setting the pad aside.

"Aww, are you on your monthly?" Y/N's head snaps up to look at him, completely offended. He continues in a whisper tone, "I can smell your bleeding cunt."

"Hey!" The guard in the corner yells, "Be respectful, Jeff."

The most sickening part is that he's right.

"My deepest apologies, Doctor L/N." He excuses himself, his voice strains with sarcasm. What a twisted fuck.

"You really know how to charm a woman, don't ya?" She rolls her eyes.

"Of course I do, I can have any woman I want." He smirks, his comment left Y/N feeling uneasy.

"Have you ever raped a woman?"

"Never, Doctor! I'm not a monster." He giggles, "They all wanted me. . . But they always die in the end, either during or after. Some women have such annoying moans; I'd rather fuck a corpse."

Y/N's face scrunches with discomfort. He's a necrophile too. What isn't wrong with this kid? They continue to discuss Jeff's sexual history for a while but all it did was leave Y/N perplexed as to who would willingly sleep with Jeffrey Woods. She wonders why he only has consensual sex. She figures it's an ego boost for him as a narcissist; getting off to fact that he's desirable to someone and they want intimacy with him. Their conversation strangely derails to family relations next. Jeff has a brother named Liu that he was living with until he was convicted.

He apparently attempted to murder Liu when he was 13, the night he lost his mind. Liu has always worn his heart on his sleeve, according to Jeff, so years later he forgave his brother like it never happened and allowed him to evade police by staying with him. Due to the trauma of the night he was almost murdered, Liu developed Dissociative Identity Disorder and has an alter named Sully. Jeff says Sully acts like a tough guy and makes Liu look like a pussy by comparison.

The meeting has closed. Their discussion went surprisingly well, but Y/N's mind wanders to
Toby. . .

Y/N is transferring her notes from today onto Jeffrey Woods's digital file, sat at her desk. A short man passes by her cubicle; Agent Martinez.

"Martinez!" He turns around and enters her room. "How is Toby doing?"

"Oh, he's alright. Staff moved him upstairs to Maximum Security because of his little threat toward you." He necessitates, swishing the coffee in his mug around before taking a sip. "Although he's currently in isolation as punishment."

He went on to explain what isolation means around here. They are not be allowed human contact whatsoever, just like "The Hole" in prison. He's in a padded room for 23 hours a day, sometimes let out for some fresh air. It's often that guards will forget about patients in the isolation ward as it's in an almost abandoned part of the hospital; the northern wing. He's being released within a week, supposedly.

Y/N needs to talk to him.