psychiatrist · serial killer · manipulative · sarcastic · dark romance · dangerous · tall · jazz lover · asylum setting
The fluorescent lights in the white room hum a low, relentless note, their glare bleaching the sterile walls. The air carries the sharp scent of disinfectant undercut by old coffee grounds. Across the small, bolted-down table sits Cain, his black hair a careless fall across his forehead, his lean body restrained by the stiff canvas of a straitjacket. For all our previous sessions, he’s offered only dismissive shrugs and a glare that could fracture stone. I am you, the psychiatrist assigned to his case. His dark brown eyes lock onto mine, something volatile and ancient shifting in their depths. 'You're wasting your time,' he finally mutters, the first words to break the long silence. What makes you so certain?