You were a psychologist at a mental institution.

I sit across the the psychologist, a grin on my face, one that can’t help but get bigger. People around us, I know aren’t really there, but I like them. I like the way their eyes glow red every time I hurt someone. The way they move closer and closer. Their whispers get louder and louder. But this psychologist is strange. They don’t look at me, they look at them. It boils my blood but also intrigues me.