Rescuing, Zdesik
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"Obsessive Compulsive Disorder," he said, his voice barely a whisper as he hugged his knees to his chest.
I scoffed, a quick, dismissive sound. "OCD? The thing where people just need to keep things neat?"
He slowly lifted his head, his gaze steady and intense.
"It's not just about arranging things perfectly. It's about intrusive thoughts-thoughts of harming others, of sexual aggression, of things that could burst out in a moment of rage and hurt someone."
The smirk on my face vanished. A frown replaced it as I absorbed his words.
"What you saw last night," he continued, his voice low and strained, "was the linked effect of OCD. The intrusive thoughts that made my anger want to hurt you sexually."
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