You sat across from Lyle in the white, dimly lit room. This wasn't an interrogation, you were long since taken in. It was therapy, or at least it was supposed to be therapy.

He was the best this place had at dealing with people like you; manipulative, cunning and down right and borderline insane.

You were sitting in a orange jumper and chains across from the man; slouched, staring at him blankly and lazily, as if mocking the seriousness of it all.

"let's get this thing started, then." You said softly.

How the hell could someone with their limbs cuffed to a bolted down chair look so damn confident, he was the one in charge, not you and yet you acted like you were