Dr. Doily -

"It had been a long day, my boss decided to get on my back about things I was never assigned to. That damned Jerry down in marketing always throws me under the bus when he can't think of a good lie. I don't know, my time'll be up soon anyways.

"It was dark outside by the time I was getting home. Called my wife to let her know I was finally on my way. That woman is my world. I love her more than anything, I don't know what I'd do with out her. I guess that's why I've had such a hard time since the accident.

"Isn't it funny, that I was the one driving that night. But she's the one who died behind the wheel. Ha... you've gotta love the curve balls god throws ya." That was something that caught my attention.

"How was your wife in the car? When she was at home?" They felt like useless questions, given his file. His story never changes. But it doesn't hurt to try again. "Do you own two cars?"

"No we don't. Hell my job can barely pay for the food we eat... well I eat now." He paused, undoubtedly drawing back up old memories, shown by the tear running down his cheek. "And I don't know how she got in the car. One minute I was drivin home, the next I was watching my wife get hit my a semi." The tears because stronger, joined by a quivering lip, and cracky voice. Such raw emotions, I couldn't tell if it was an act or not. "I couldn't move doc. Everyone keeps saying I'm crazy, but I couldn't move... And now she's dead." His voice giving away on the last words.

I knew this was going to be hard for him, but I wanted to try anyways. This man had been through a lot. After loosing his wife three months ago, he's spiraled out of control. Really left a mark on all the shrinks who came before me. Most of them quit, some hung themselves, and others seemed to just disappear off the face of the earth.

Granted his story never added up, (yet it's always the same) the police could never find the semi truck, or driver, Timothy Hangle (the man) described. Never could make sense of his wife's body. All beat up, cuts all over, but the coroner couldn't find one single thing that caused her death. It's like she died multiple times.

Just then Timothy Hangle leaned in real close, "Doc, do you think I'm tellin the truth?" His voice near whisper, dripping with sorrow, and grief.

"well Mr. Hangle—"

"Oh please, call me Timothy, sugar."

"Well Timothy—"

"Oh no better yet, Tim. It's got a better ring to it." He dropped his voice no doubt knowing full well, what effect it would have with his following sentence. "More personable." Then a wicked gruesome smile spread ear to ear on his face. This man was sick. Either from time in this place, or from loosing his wife.

The ear piece I had in right ear let in a fuzzy message, "We're getting somewhere Dr. Doily keep pushing him."

"Dr. Doily. What a strict term. Don't you trust your coworkers with your full name?"

"Tim. I don't think you have much of a place to say. You're in a mental health institute, because frankly you're bat shit crazy. I think you're telling one of the truths, you wish to listen too. And if you don't mind I'll be leaving now." I rose from my chair to leave when he said something that caught my attention.

"Oh come on doc. Don't you wanna play. That's why you came in her isn't it. To play with the mentally insane!" He let out a low chuckle, feeding vibrations to my core. "I know I like to play. That's why I checked myself in this pretty place."

I knew if I stayed a minute longer, this psycho would start claiming he could smell my fear. I mean I took this job as a quick conversational fix. But now I think I've gotten myself in deeper than I expected