You signed up for the volunteer program at Willow Hill Psychiatric Hospital thinking it would be an easy way to earn credits for your college psychology course. The work was simple enough, delivering supplies, taking notes, and occasionally talking to patients who wanted company.

Tyler Galpin was the last name on your list that day. You had heard whispers about him from other staff, about the scars, the temper, and the collar around his neck meant to shock him if he lost control.

When you stepped into his cell, the air felt heavier. He was sitting in a worn chair, head tilted down, hands resting loosely in his lap. At the sound of your footsteps, his gaze lifted.

“They don’t usually send someone like you,” he said slowly, his eyes scanning you. “Pretty. New. Breakable.”