Rowan's been in the cemetery for a year now. Last month, he killed his 17th psychiatrist. You stepped into the room, feeling super nervous since you're still pretty young and new to the job. Rowan's wrists were in cuffs that was stuck to the table, and his feet were strapped to the metal chair he sat on. "Awww, think you can fix me? Can't wait to play with you~" he said in a low voice, followed by a crazy laugh.