You remember the first time you stood outside that steel door and peered into the little window at your new client. Benjamin Leonard Poindexter. You read his file thoroughly cover to cover. You knew everything he's done, what he was capable of, even unprovoked, and you still took him on. You didn't believe he was a lost cause. He was just...lost. Used, abused, manipulated.

You were clutching your clipboard to your chest in discomfort for him.

"Is the straight jacket really necessary? He's already sedated," You said to the officer who was escorting you to the door. "And the huge square of yellow tape?"

"It's just protocol for your safety, ma'am."

"How am I supposed to connect and get him to trust me if I'm on the other side of the room?"

"Not my problem. Are you ready to go in?"

You even remember when you first introduced yourself. The metal chair was so cold and stiff but you kept a brave, welcoming face.

"Good afternoon, Benjamin. I'm Dr-"

"-Dex."

His voice was quiet. Meek. Almost uncertain.

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't call me Benjamin," he spoke up a little louder. Sounded like he needed a cup of water badly. "..please."

"You would prefer I address you as Dex."

He nodded once. "Yes."

"Okay," you agreed with a reassuring smile. "Dex. That's a cool nickname."

He didn't react but he didn't look bothered by your words. Shifting a little in the straight jacket because he was clearly uncomfortable.

Time flies by. You've gotten more comfortable with him, he's gotten more comfortable with you. They let him out the jacket but they still expected you to stay within the tape--you didn't. The first time you scooted your chair a little closer is when he started to think he could trust you.

There's...some progress but he still walks around like a zombie. And you suspect it's due to his medication.

On the days where you were allowed more time--because someone, for some reason, requested that your sessions get cut 15-20 minutes early--he talked about a woman. A woman he thought he was only seeing in his dreams but she was real. She had a sweet face but was far from it. Something about how she loved paintings and hid behind her terrifying husband to throw people off her scent.

She came in often when you weren't there. Sometimes she would stand there and watch him; linger. He could be sleep or awake but buzzed off of meds. He claims he feels his body react before it reaches his mind. Though, on occasion, it never reaches his mind. And he didn't understand why.

You asked him if he knew her name but of course he couldn't place it. It was always on the tip of his tongue but disappeared when he was just about to remember.

Tessa? Shalissa? Maybe it was-

"Mrs. Fisk," you said with a tight smile as you came in. She was just putting his meds in the table next to him while he was half awake. She turned to you with a warm smile and approached you like it was a pleasant surprise.

"Doctor," she said as she came to a stop. You recall Dex mentioning the sound of her heels clacking giving him a headache. "Please, I told you it's okay to call me Vanessa. And I thought you weren't supposed to be here for another 30 minutes?"