Meant To Be Yours (Yandere One-shots) ~Complete~

Ticci Toby ~Handle~

Author's Note: This is in a females point of view.
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You took a sip of your coffee as you looked at your emails, seeing which patients you were working with today. You had worked here for a few months now, helping treat people with mental illness. It had always been a passion of yours so help others. Your eyes scanned over the names and backgrounds. You grabbed your clipboard and began making your way down the hall. On your way you saw a shaggy brown haired boy, a few years younger than you, being carried in restraints to a cell. This wasn't uncommon, sometimes your patients would try to harm others or try to attack a guard, but this was different.

He was just staring off into space, not resisting or showing any signs of wanting to escape. A nurse caught your curious expression and came over to you.

"I see you've saw Toby." She said, causing you to nod. "He's a new patient. From what I've heard he was found in the woods, trying to attack people with hatchets. A group of kids were camping outdoors when he attacked them. One managed to get away and called the authorities."

"Who's he been assigned to?" You questioned.

"Um...I'm not sure." She hummed, taken back. "The judge wanted us to see if we can 'help him', if not he's going to be sent to jail."

"Hm, interesting." You replied, heading off to continue your work.

(Time Skip A Few Days)

You were walking down the hall when you saw the cops talking to the other therapist and staff. You made your way down to see what all the commotion was about.

"I tell you, none of us can get a word out of him!"

"He refuses to cooperate with us!"

"He hasn't muttered a word!"

"I see." A cop said, sighing. "I guess that means...we need to take him to the jail."

"Wait!" You called, causing them to look at you. "Let me try to work with him."

"Ms. (Y/n), I know this is your passion, but he can't be helped." A fellow therapist said. "And no offense, but your degree is for helping children here."

"He's under eighteen, right?" You ask the officer, who nodded. "That means I can work with him."

"We've had years of experience working with people like this, if we can't do it, what makes you think you can?" The therapist ask. "We. Can't. Help. Him."

"She wants to help him and he is under the age of eighteen. If she wants to try to help him, I will allow her to." The officer said. "And by the way, for a therapist who's had 'years of experience', it seems the newbie has more concern for the patients."

The therapist sighed and grumbled under his breath as he walked away. The cop turned to you and gave a faint smile.

"You have three days to get him him to talk, I wish I could give you more, but that's all the judge will allow."

"I'll get him to talk." You say, breaking into a smile. "There hasn't been one patient I haven't got to talk to me yet!"