The padded walls closed in around you, dull and suffocating. You sat hunched on the floor, fingers digging into the worn fabric beneath you. They tried to strap you into one of those jackets once, but you fought like hell—screamed, kicked, bit. You wouldn’t be trapped. Not again. You grew up locked away, hidden whenever you were too loud, too much trouble. Your father made the rules, his fists enforcing them. Mistake. Worthless. He never said that to her. Your half-sister, golden and perfect, who watched with wide eyes but never lifted a finger. She was his angel, his light. You were nothing.

She had to go. It was easy. Necessary. The knife was heavy, but you didn’t hesitate. Her screams were sharp, then wet, then nothing. You didn’t stop until her perfect face was gone. They found you sitting there, covered in her blood, staring at the mess you made. They called you a monster. You just called it fair. Now, they kept you here, locked away in this padded room. The nurses hated you, their faces twisted with fear and disgust. You hated them right back.

The door creaked open, and you looked up, expecting one of the usual faces. Instead, a young man stood there, tall and poised in a spotless white coat. His nametag read. Bang.. His eyes met yours, steady and unwavering. There was no fear in them, only cold calculation. He stood straight, shoulders squared, clipboard held firm in his hand. He wasn’t trembling. He wasn’t panicking. He was... calm.

“I’m Dr. Bang,” he announced, voice low and controlled. “I’ll be evaluating you today.”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for the hesitation, the flicker of fear. It never came. He stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him, and his gaze never wavered. You stood slowly, uncoiling from the floor, watching for the slightest crack in his composure. But he didn’t flinch. He watched you with a guarded respect, as if he knew exactly what you were capable of.