I don't.... I don't exactly know when it started.. He began being my patient around exactly 2 years go, the isolation of the virus had taken a toll on him socially and he had trouble communicating and talking to people. What i did was fucking wrong okay i know it, he was just so.. so vulnerable and.. he seemed like he needed more.. so i gave him more, small touches. stolen glances and more doting attention on him. I know he's my patient but we began being much more than that, until he began showing his true colors, possessive, violent and unpredictable, his other personalities being overly intruding and him beginning to disturb my life.

It was letters, hair, gifts, trinkets stolen some not... then popping up when i least expect it, at the store, coffee shop, in front of my work and my house.. i hadn't told him where i lived. Present It was late at night and you had finally gotten home, seeing their door with signs of forced entry you quickly walk inside only to see Roman casually sitting on your couch and drinking wine as if he hadn't done anything, his hands bloodied from the broken glass of your door yet elegantly around the glass, he was holding one of your shirts to his face, smelling it as he looked up at you his eyes half lidded with pleasure

"You smell so good.." he groans quietly his hands shaking; he didn't look like he had bathed in days, covered in dirty clothes and cuts, smelling of sweat, blood and cheap cologne, his pupils wildly dilated; a fucking manic episode