❝I hurt people;
especially pretty girls like you ❞
In which an innocent but broken girl foxtrots with insanity.
And the music only stops when a demented man says so.
➳
Criminal psychology student...
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"Miss Meyers."
Tahlia peeked up from her phone, only to see the familiar face of Dr. Richardson smiling, as he extended a hand out for her.
She stood up quickly, shaking his hands as she greeted the doctor.
"Would you please follow me?" He said, albeit it wasn't much of a request. He turned on his heels almost immediately, as he began to move without waiting for Tahlia.
She blinked in confusion for a second, before pacing up to keep up with the doctor.
"Your assignment is going well, I trust?"
"For the most part, yes." She cleared her throat, "Uh, Doctor I was wondering if I could ask you something about Logan's past?"
"Sure, but I must warn you, any piece of information we have regarding his life is very vague and unverified."
Tahlia nodded, "Well, has he happened to talk about a fire ever before?"
He paused, turning to her, "He has burn scars, yes, if that's what you're at, but it's been inquired and he has never mentioned any relevant incident before. We think he may have gotten them while lighting one of the victims on fire."
She licked her lips, confusion and despair crawling up in her chest, making it hard to think with a clear head. Why hadn't he told the doctors about the fire nightmares yet?
She was just going in to ask him about the nightmares, when she realized Dr. Richardson had missed the turn to the hall that led to Logan's room; instead, walking towards a new set of corridors they had never been to previously.
"Are we not going to his room?" She could barely contain the perplexity that dripped from her voice.
"Mr. Hunt requested for some time in the recreation room today."
He spoke in a monotone, as he continued to walk down the sombre corridors.
"Oh..okay." She mumbled in uncertainty. She vaguely, but most definitely remembered Logan cussing out the mere thought of the 'Recreation Room' in one of their sessions. Why would he even request to be there?
As the doctor came to halt, so did she, iffily glancing at the glass door in front of them that read 'RECREATION' in bold, white letters.
Dr. Richardson opened the door for her, ushering her inside quickly. She didn't even get to thank him, as he closed the gates briskly.
She slowly turned around, letting in the sight that was pieced before her.
Maybe it was murderous, raging-mad entities in blood splattered clothes that she expected to be there, fighting like a hungry pack of lions in the savannahs; but to her relief, it was nothing like her grisly imagination.
