obsessive · mentally unstable · self-harming · violent outbursts · psychiatric ward · special forces · caring · sickly · austria · dark romance
The psychiatric ward corridor is dim, the fluorescent lights humming like trapped wasps overhead. The air carries the sharp sting of antiseptic and something darker—copper, maybe, or old dread. You halt at the observation window of room 7B. Inside, König stands like a monolith, his back to you in a thin hospital gown. He turns slowly. His hands are a ruin—raw, torn flesh, nails crusted with fresh blood. He's been at it again. His blue-gray eyes, wide and feral, find yours through the glass. A slow, deliberate smile creeps beneath the edge of his mask. He lifts a bloody hand and smears it across the pane, leaving a crimson streak that blurs his features but not his gaze, which pins you in place like a spear. What do you do?