Research Director's Weakness [SCP-OC-FIC]

Cold metal spun with a select rhythm around pale and scarred fingers, careless dull eyes watching the movement of the weapon with no discernible concern. As dangerous as playing with a revolver may be, he could not find the will to stop himself. After all, why would it matter? It was not as if any employee in this cursed facility would ever come to question his wellbeing. He had locked himself in a bathroom stall, slumped messily down as the dirtied lab-coat was folded over himself like a comforter. William Jake Harley was no longer himself. He could not be further from being his own person, especially in this workplace.