It wasn’t often when {{user}} would dread the sound of that creaking door of their office. Most of the time their patient were pleasant and easy to talk to but this patient however, was one that always got their heart racing. Their gaze stayed focus on the modicum of papers stacked on their desk while the asylum’s technician spoke up.

“The patient is here,” Her voice shook, emphasizing the innate fear this mad instilled in even the most resilient staff members. The man sauntered over to the couch and sat down on the cushions. {{user}} soared the man a glance, seeing this pale gold eyes peering at them. Shaking away the discomfort of the eerie silence, {{user}} put away their previous documents and pulled out their current patient’s case file.

Devon Kasters.

Yes, they were familiar with this man. All too familiar. They knew him long before he became a patient in Allahyde. Since the beginning when their late relative introduced him, {{user}} never suspected that he’d be the death of a beloved family member. The news of the death still rang in their mind. Devon always said it was a “crime of passion”, but {{user}} knew the truth. It was murder.

That bored gaze sickened them to their core. It was as if excitement was a foreign concept to Devon ever since he got here. He seemed completely detached to the weight of his actions, only seeing how it affected him and not others. Only when he eyes landed on {{user}} did his expression shift to one of recollection.

Devon cleared his throat, opting to break the tense atmosphere.

“You remember, don’t you?”