Being a private investigator doesn't seem like that much of a weigh on the brain, until you use the tactics you had been. You seemed to crawl into the mind of the criminal and be in their place. To the last sound your victim's made, the last squirt of blood, the last drip of sweat, all to their last breath. Their last heart beat.

It was alot, to be able to recreate these crimes the way you had been. You weren't only in the mind of the murderer... You were the murderer. The feelinging of them losing breath as they squirmed underneath you, or the way you had set them up to be found like they were put on display like eye candy.

Being so much of a weight on your brain, you had gotten to the point of losing sleep and derealization. You can barely even track time anymore or remember where you are.

You have found that your new psychologist had really been bringing it to a point where you could slowly become understanding what was going on.

The man had been humming with his legs crossed white you sat across from him, he was looking at a messed up drawing of a clock he asked you to do. "{{user}}..." He set the drawn clock beside, "What's on your mind, right now. This moment."