Off Record [Ereri/Riren] ✓

1 ⚕︎Insanity ✍︎

Off Record
Chapter 1
⚕︎ Insanity ✍︎
Levi

in•san•it•y

/inˈsanədē/

noun

the state of being seriously mentally ill; madness.

I lean back in my desk chair, bringing my right leg over the left, sipping a scalding cup of chamomile tea as I go over my files monotonously. Today marks my three year anniversary of working in the Whane Asylum, three years of working with people that could make a navy seal's skin crawl. It's what I do and I love it, watching people seemingly decompose as their minds fail them.

Maybe I'm sadistic.

Maybe I am just as twisted as the patients that I oversee. There is only one key difference separating us:

Which side of the glass we sit at.

My name is Dr. Levi Ackerman and I am currently the Survey Corps' top psychologist, holding two PHDs under my belt - psychology and sociology, obtained from my numerous years at Harvard Medical. I am sometimes referred to as "Levi the Demon" or "Humanity's Strongest," though that title, in my opinion, does not suit my fancy.

Time at the Survey Corps has been utterly mundane lately, the chore of cleaning much more pleasing than the actual job that I am here for. Nobody has my attention anymore. Everyone here has already received a visit from me and they no longer pique my interest. I want someone new.

I thirst for it.

"Dr. Ackerman."

A knock resounds from my door. I set down my tea and glance at the door.

"Enter."

Dr. Zoe walks in with a devious smile, causing my insides to churn with excitement. If that shit is excited, I am sure to be too.

The wait becomes too much for me, so I urge the brunet to speak.

"Dr. Ackerman," Hanji started. "Eren Jaeger has just been admitted to the psych ward."

A grin plasters on my face and I stand up, dusting my jeans off. "Lead me to him."

"Of course."

We walk down the dark, but sterile corridor, passing countless patients adorned in white, their faces pressing against the glass to stare at us as we continue to pass by. I chuckle as I walk by Petra Ral. She is curled up, rocking back and forth as she mutters the word "tree" over and over, her eyes blank and psychotic. It is beautiful, really.

I stop in front of Samuel's room, not bothering to change my slate expression. It's not like the crazy bastard can actually see me anyway. His story is actually pretty comedic.

The Survey Corps has bans on multiple different objects due to the... ingenuitive ways the patients go about their means of self harm and suicide. One of said banned objects just so happens to be many forms of silverware. The metal forks and knives served multiple issues so we switched to plastic spoons, but if someone wants to kill themselves, they'll do it, the patients breaking and sharpening the plastic into crude weapons that got the job done. When we decided that simply having metal spoons, of course a dumbass had the tenacity to fucking find a way to harm themselves.

That bastard is Sightless Sam, the bloke who decided that in order to get rid of "seeing ghosts," that scooping out his eyes was the best course of action. Of course that didn't actually fix anything and now he can't see anything except ghosts.

And of course the shitty four eyes Hanji has his fucking eyes stored in a snowglobe full of formaldehyde.

Taking one last look at the redhead wearing dual eye patches, I fix my hair and we walk down to the solitary confinement room, the room for the worst of the worst. My steel eyes stare at the man before me and despite the uncleanliness of it, I touch the glass to peer closer at Jaeger in all of his splendor.