-V

The cell's darkness is suffocating him, his head covered in sweat beads, breathing heavy, his eyebrows knit in fear and confusion.

"Brother... Please." His voice, pleading, vulnerable, muttering in his slumber. His breaths grow heavier.

"Please... Sister... Mother, Father, please... save me... D-Don't let them..." Tears start running down his cheeks.

He jolts awake suddenly, breathing heavily. The only sound in the darkness of the cell, aka hell, is his rapid, fast breathing.

Staring ahead, he angrily jerks his face in an attempt to push away the tears—yes, tears, a sign of weakness and vulnerability in his eyes.

His eyes, just as dark as the cell itself. Cussing under his breath, he throws his head back on the chair, unable to fully wipe away the remaining tears on his face due to the chains bound to his legs and arms. His eyes—just dead, almost as if they don't have any emotion or life left inside them.

While just staring at the ceiling, despite not wanting anyone or anything to be with him, for the first time, he craves someone.

Just someone who can caress his hair, someone whose lap he can rest his head on, closing his eyes, just accepting his weakness and vulnerabilities.

Someone who won't judge. Someone who doesn't just see the psycho or the killer. Someone who sees a man—a normal one—with a heart and feelings.

His mouth lets out a scoff, mocking his own ridiculous thoughts. He never thought of love. For him, the word 'love' is a weakness, foolishness, and he never, ever was—nor will ever be—a foolish man.

He thinks with his mind, not his heart. But those sudden flashbacks of… her—correction, the "doctor"—are getting too frequent.

"Damn," he mutters in the dark.

The only one who actually never, ever hurt his feelings, unknowingly. Sometimes, he wonders—how can someone be so stupid to fall for a man like him? Full of sins and darkness? A man who can barely even make it to the door of heaven? A man whose place is in hell—the hellfire in front of God after death. Then why?

Chuckling softly in the dark, his eyes close as he wishes to just fall back into slumber, wishing those ridiculous nightmares of his past won't haunt and break his sleep again.

What? That chuckle? What was it for?

Of course… Isn't it obviously obvious that she loves him? Miss dumb doctor has fallen for a criminal psycho like him.

He knows. He knows it all.

All along, from the start.

No one can match his cunning mind and high IQ. He can see a person's nature and true intentions just by their presence. She thought he didn't know about her... so-called love?

In the dark, his scoff can be heard along with his muttering.

"Dumbo doctor has actually not fallen for only my eyes but… for the whole of me. The whole psycho... Stupid."

He falls into his slumber—not before smiling like a stupid fool himself in his sleep at her thought.

He might never admit his feelings, but deep inside, he sleeps just to pass the time quickly, waiting for the morning to come so that she can come to him for their session.

Of course, in his eyes, "so-called sessions"—though deep inside, he's the one waiting for those so-called sessions.

After some minutes, he can't sleep. His annoyed groans can be heard in the dark cell, his shirt clinging to him due to sweat, his hair damp.

Tossing and turning his head here and there in annoyance due to the increasing heat, he gives up, his eyes opening, staring straight at the ceiling. He complains, "Ridiculous people, can't even afford to give a decent fan at least! What's that spinning above my head? A toy?"

He scoffs, rolling his eyes in frustration, muttering softly to himself, "Will tell Miss Dumbo Doctor. Maybe she will help."

Closing his eyes, he turns back to sleep, eyes tightly shut in discomfort. He finally falls asleep, not before muttering softly in his sleep, "Not maybe... but she will definitely help."

The morning has come—actually, now about to get past 12 AM.

But Cein's eyes are solely focused on the old clock hanging on the cell's wall. Eyes just locked on its needles.

Waiting… Waiting… Waiting!

That's what he has been doing since yesterday!

Damn it, she didn't come.

Today, again.

"Is this how they treat their patients? Aren't their so-called sessions important to take every day anymore!? Am I fine now? Is my inner psycho killed now? Then why am I not dead yet? Damn it. Damn her."

In frustration, he wiggles madly, his legs and arms bound by the chains on the chair. His groans are loud, reaching outside the cell, his cussing loud—not caring anymore, his mind going insane without her.

She was supposed to make him sane, yet see the irony—she is making him insane by her absence instead.

For him, it's worse and frustrating, craving someone he admits to hating and loathing. Wanting someone when he arrogantly says he never needs anyone. Wanting the emotion he considers foolishness and naivety—"love."

Saying he doesn't have any weakness when he clearly is affected by her presence. When he clearly couldn't even take her absence for just two days.

All of these messy emotions are making him more insane than he already is.

His cussing and screaming are loud, refusing to stay silent until he can feel and bask in her calm presence. His emotions are open, like a caged animal finally being freed from its ropes.

His screams die down as he hears the sound of the cell door opening.

Stepping inside the cell is the person—Mr. Shin.

His high-polished black boots echo in the dark cell.

"Screaming like an animal, you are. So loudly that you made us come here to tend to your futile needs."

Eyes cold and words heartless, Mr. Shin continues without any pity or empathy.

"Calling out already for… her? For Miss Venisa, I see."

Taking a seat on the empty chair, legs crossing, Mr. Shin's eyes roam all over his pitiful form.

"Actually, Miss Venisa—" Mr. Shin's eyes deceive, malice-filled, clearly trying to fill his already broken heart with anger and hurt. Continuing, he says, his voice purposely innocent, as if telling the truth,

"Actually, Miss Venisa just yesterday resigned from her job. Her reason to do so was that she was frustrated tending to, uh… insane animals like psychos. So… she left after receiving her handful of checks."

"But hey, you don't worry, Cein. I will, and have already, arranged a, uh, new doctor for you. You rest assured and be here."

His voice takes on a dark and menacing tone, his ending words clearly mocking him.

"Be here till then. Rot in here, in this cell, okay?"

"Also, I'm noticing they have loosened—or I might say, she has loosened—those shackles on your body. Tsk tsk, need to put those back in tightly so that they will pierce through your already rough, dirty skin. Don't worry, I'm here for you."

Kneeling down in front of him, he tightens the chains on him.

"There we go. Have a good day in the cell. Or, I might say, have a good day sitting here in the dark, as usual."

His malice-filled chuckle fades into the dark as he leaves after closing the cell door.

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