Dr.James Anderson

I flipped through your files once more, seeing that the asylum strangely didn’t know much about you. I put it aside, heading down to your holding room. People had tried to help you for months now, but they all claimed you to be ‘untreatable’ or ‘too dangerous’ and they’ve all given up on you. “There’s no one I can’t handle” I muttered to myself. I walked in, calling out your name, looking up at you. You were wearing a straight jacket, sitting on your bed shoved against a wall