"I'm Doctor Richardson. Please take a seat."

The man smiled, gesturing towards the chair right across his end of the desk. The lines on his forehead and either sides of his mouth became more perceptible, as he curved his lips, adding a few more years to the man's middle aged face.

"Ms. Meyers, was it?"

"Tahlia would be fine." She attempted to return a small smile, her vision still preoccupied with the overwhelming number of certificates and accolades that adorned every inch of the man's room.

"Here it is." He handed her an opaque emerald file, as promised.

Tahlia gently gripped it, running her fingers over the embossed grey letters.

Patient Evaluation Records/ Psychiatric Diagnosis

"We're sorry it had to be this late. We were in a process with the university..." He began in a nearly automated tone, but Tahlia had already tuned out.

She flickered it open, her sight landing on the first page.

Name: Hunt, Logan

Date of Admission: 01.02.2015

She raked her eyes sloppily along the length of the contents of the page, in case she was to spot something pivotal. The list wasn't quite long, yet in her eyes it seemed to drag into never-endingness.

"Miss Tahlia?"

She jerked her head up immediately, almost giving herself a whiplash in the process.

"I hope you understand. We're sorry if it hampered your project." He continued, apparently not paying much heed to her lack of both interest and attention.

She shook her head gently, "It's fine. I just," She took in a heavy breath, "I wanted to ask you something, about Logan, if it's okay."

Dr. Richardson uncrossed his arms, "Of course, why not?"

The events that took place two nights ago came to her brain, replaying fresh like a movie scene almost, but only, stained in the color red.

"I think there's something wrong with.." She was forced to pause, realizing there were absolutely no human words to convey what exactly happened to be the hiccup.

She shook her head,

"I have a reason to believe Logan isn't exactly..guilty."

The doctor tilted his head, leaning back in his seat.

"What makes you say that?"

"I was just pointing out some inconsistencies in the pattern of the murders—"

"What inconsistencies?"

She licked her dry lips.

"I-It's so unusual Doctor. Four of his victims were burnt alive and the bodies had been dumped elsewhere.

These murders feel like they'd been thoroughly planned in advance, highly organized, as if it's the work of a professional killer."

She breathed out luridly.

"And- and the others seem to be carried out by a disoriented person, very disorganized. They all had been stabbed, suffered head injuries and broken bones, and their bodies were found in the scene of the crime itself, with the knives nearby. Nothing like the others."

Her gaze dropped to her fingers that were unthinkingly fiddling with the file.

"It is the weirdest thing ever, it's almost as if it's the work of–"

"–Two different killers." The Dr. concluded her sentence, the ring in his voice blasé.

"Yes!" She let out a stirred release of breath, "And then, he basically told me he didn't do it. And- and I have it in recording." To prove I'm not delusional.

"All of the murders?"

She shook her head exasperatedly, "No, no, not exactly, he said there were three that he– Wait."

Her frantic eyes met his unfazed ones.

"Y-you know about it."

Dr. Richardson merely nodded.

"Have you talked about his past?"

Tahlia fell silent for a moment.

"He doesn't seem to remember anything about his past." She answered warily, uneasiness settling at the thought of the man nonchalantly moving on, as if, the revelation that had just unfolded amounted to absolutely nothing.

"Do you know why?"

She shrugged gingerly, "I haven't really thought about it. It's a common misconception, but the criminal profile doesn't actually focus much on the psychological a—"

"The unconscious mind, Miss Tahlia," He swiftly interjected.

"Is a trove of primitive wishes and impulse. It mirrors a reservoir, if you will."

She shook her head, "I- I'm sorry Doctor, I don't mean to be rude, but I don't get why we're discussing Freudian theories. What was it that you were saying about the murders?"

He exhaled a harsh spell of breath, choosing not to reply to the words of the apprehensive girl that sat there.

Unaffected, he continued,

"Now, the conscious region of the mind is responsible for moderating and fending off these impulses. "

He held up a finger, excusing himself as he drove into a drawer.

Tahlia's mouth was set into a firm line, as she fought to not lose her cool.

She needed substantial information on the killings. Not Psychology 101.

He pulled out a thick book, flipping the pages open. His eyes latched on to the text as he started reading out.

"Freud found that some events and desires were often too frightening or painful for his patients to acknowledge, and believed that such information was locked away in the unconscious mind."

"You mean repression of memories? With all due respect Dr. Richardson, I know the psychoanalytic theory, what I don't understand is why we're—"

She cut herself off in a split second.

Oh.

It hit her like a bolt to the head, "He blocked his past." She murmured to herself.

"Precisely." The doctor smiled. "Say, has Logan happened to ever mention anything about Ian?"

"Ian?" The name didn't pull any discernible connections in her mind.

"No, I don't think so. Who's Ian?" She blinked in sheer confusion.

"He's the killer."

Tahlia peered at him dumbfounded. For a good minute, her brain, seemingly, had lost the capability to comprehend three simple words.

"Wh- what?"

Dr. Richardson sat tranquil, wordless, looking plainly at her perplexed state.

"I'm- I'm sorry, I don't understand.." A nervous chuckle left her mouth.

He pursed his thin lips, "Well, you were, yourself, implying that there is another killer, weren't you?"

"Yes- but I..I.." She trailed off, positively dazed.

Tahlia's head still reeled with the alarming information that Dr. Richardson had revealed calmly, as if it were a simple morning greeting.

Unnerving seconds rolled by, as the predicament was finally apprehended in her brain.

"Does that mean Logan is not completely guilty?"

That he is not completely insane.

She breathed harshly,

"That Ian guy, does that mean he's the second murderer?"

"Yes." The doctor answered. In a manner that was too collected.

She could merely hold her breath any longer, "Then where is he? Shouldn't he be locked up in here too?"

The doctor studied her placidly. "He is."

She furrowed her eyebrows in uncertainty. "I don't get it."

"Why don't you go through Mr. Hunt's diagnosis again, carefully, Miss Tahlia?" He leaned back in his chair, face too serene for Tahlia's comprehending.

She glimpsed down into the file, gauging the words on the page once again.

Bipolar Affective Disorder

Antisocial Personality Disorder

She worked her way down the now familiar list.

That's when she saw it.

Her heart halted for a second.

The first time her eyes had overlooked it in haste.

But now, it was as if, what was on the page had commanded the world to stop spinning.

The sudden shallowness of her breaths nearly set a fire in her chest.

She flickered her gaze to Richardson's, eyes wide.

He understood that the girl had indeed seen what he wanted her to see.

"Dissociative Identity Disorder."

Dr. Richardson's voice spelt out the phrase Tahlia's mind had been fixated on.

"Logan Hunt's body is a vessel for two different identities. Logan himself, and," He paused for a quick second, "Ian Hunt."

Tahlia was instantaneously brought back to their previous encounter.

'Why did you burn those girls? What was different with them?'

'I didn't.'

She brushed back a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "So this, this Ian side is responsible for the organized killings? Where he burnt the women alive?"

The Doctor merely nodded, "I'm afraid, having multiple personalities as a serial murdering psychopath, can only mean that the alternate personality's killing instincts are more heightened, more animalistic."

Tahlia shook her head, overwhelmed with all of this information, "How is that even possible?"

He took his glasses off, "Logan's case is indeed groundbreaking. In all my years of practice, I have never come across a psychopath with DID. No one in the department has, for that matter. We didn't even know it was possible."

He looked away, glancing at a small booklet on his desk,

"We aren't positive, but with his repression of the past, the DID, the scars, we have a reason to believe he might have had an abusive childhood."

Scars?

She had barely parted her mouth to ask about the scars, when he looked up at her again, "Ever wondered why the Westfield Ripper doesn't have a Wikipedia page?"

Tahlia couldn't do much except stare at the man aimlessly.

"It's because the nature of his case is so unprecedented, it's still being studied, confidentially. It's the only thing keeping him from an immediate death sentence."

Her revelation caused her to still. For the first time, the curiosity in her was not tempted to explore.

But then, at the same time, she couldn't help but muse about a certain notion, a feeling reminiscent to anger flaring up inside her.

"If it's so confidential, why did the Sanatorium agree to the assignment? Why is it letting naïve students sit two hands away from a groundbreaking murderer?"

A visible ridge formed in the Doctor's jaw, "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't have an appropriate answer to that." He paused, seeming almost torn for a second.

"Well, thank you for coming. I hope I was of any help to you."

Tahlia glanced outside the big window by Dr. Richardson's side, noticing it was quite late, almost in time for the night to fall. She thanked him quietly, before getting up to leave.

She walked in small strides.

There were many more secrets to Logan Hunt than she had presumed.

So help her God, she would uncover them all if she needed to.

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