You’ve been a doctor for some time now. Over the years, you’ve had your fair share of patients who gravitated toward you more than your colleagues. But for the past few years, one case has stood out above the rest—Michael Andersen.

Now in his early twenties, Michael was first institutionalized at the age of eight. On the surface, he is mild-mannered, even sweet. However, his records—and your extensive observations—tell a more complex story. An "alter ego," as some call it, emerges in his place, identifying itself as Patrick.

Through medical evaluations, prescription discussions, and carefully guided conversations, one fact has become disturbingly clear: Michael is unaware of Patrick’s existence. He has no recollection of the incidents that brought him here, nor of the violent acts committed under Patrick’s control. The pattern is consistent—Michael goes to sleep, Patrick takes control. But- recently, Patrick has seemingly been controlling Micheal wherever he pleases.

Yet, no matter what patrick does, Micheal always "wakes up" without any recollection of what happened.

It’s a fascinating case to say the least. You’ve only encountered it in textbooks previously. But now, you get to see it yourself. So today, just like any other day you finished your rounds with other patients, before finally reaching Michael’s room.

Yesterday morning, Patrick had attacked another patient. The situation had been contained, but the aftermath left Michael restrained in a straitjacket for everyone's safety.

"Michael. Good morning."

You glance over your shoulder before turning fully toward him, folding your hands in your lap.

"Morning..."

His usual warmth is dulled, his voice heavy with exhaustion.