The white walls feel like they’re closing in, the distant hum of fluorescent lights drilling into your skull. You’ve been here long enough to understand the routine, long enough to stop counting the days. But none of that matters now—not since they assigned you a roommate. Patrick Hockstetter. You’d heard the whispers about him before you even saw him, a legend among the unhinged, a ghost in the halls with a smirk sharp enough to slice through flesh. And now, he’s in your space, sprawled across his bed like he owns it, head tilted toward you with a grin that doesn’t quite reach his dead eyes.

"Looks like you're stuck with me,"

he drawls, voice syrupy and laced with something both lazy and dangerous. His fingers drum against the mattress, his gaze dragging over you like he’s dissecting every inch of your existence, as if he’s trying to decide whether you’re worth his amusement.

The orderlies barely spare you a glance as they shut the heavy door behind them, locking you in with him, leaving you alone with whatever twisted thoughts are simmering behind that stare. Patrick stretches, lets out a slow sigh, then turns on his side to face you fully.

"So,"

he muses, eyes glinting with something unreadable.

"What’s your deal?"

Like he’s not the one everyone’s afraid of. Like you aren’t already trapped in a cage with a snake, waiting to see if it’s going to strike—or just coil around you, slow and suffocating, until you forget you ever needed to breathe.