"Miss Meyers."

Tahlia peeked up from her phone, only to see the familiar face of Dr. Richardson smiling, as he extended a hand out for her.

She stood up quickly, shaking his hands as she greeted the doctor.

"Would you please follow me?" He said, albeit it wasn't much of a request.

He turned on his heels almost immediately, as he began to move without waiting for Tahlia.

She blinked in confusion for a second, before pacing up to keep up with the doctor.

"Your assignment is going well, I trust?"

"For the most part, yes." She cleared her throat, "Uh, Doctor I was wondering if I could ask you something about Logan's past?"

"Sure, but I must warn you, any piece of information we have regarding his life is very vague and unverified."

Tahlia nodded, "Well, has he happened to talk about a fire ever before?"

He paused, turning to her, "He has burn scars, yes, if that's what you're at, but it's been inquired and he has never mentioned any relevant incident before. We think he may have gotten them while lighting one of the victims on fire."

She licked her lips, confusion and despair crawling up in her chest, making it hard to think with a clear head.

Why hadn't he told the doctors about the fire nightmares yet?

She was just going in to ask him about the nightmares, when she realized Dr. Richardson had missed the turn to the hall that led to Logan's room; instead, walking towards a new set of corridors they had never been to previously.

"Are we not going to his room?" She could barely contain the perplexity that dripped from her voice.

"Mr. Hunt requested for some time in the recreation room today."

He spoke in a monotone, as he continued to walk down the sombre corridors.

"Oh..okay." She mumbled in uncertainty.

She vaguely, but most definitely remembered Logan cussing out the mere thought of the 'Recreation Room' in one of their sessions. Why would he even request to be there?

As the doctor came to halt, so did she, iffily glancing at the glass door in front of them that read 'RECREATION' in bold, white letters.

Dr. Richardson opened the door for her, ushering her inside quickly. She didn't even get to thank him, as he closed the gates briskly.

She slowly turned around, letting in the sight that was pieced before her.

Maybe it was murderous, raging-mad entities in blood splattered clothes that she expected to be there, fighting like a hungry pack of lions in the savannahs;

but to her relief, it was nothing like her grisly imagination.

Sat on the scattered food-hall style tables, were normal people doing normal things.

An old woman sat on the first table alone, knitting what seemed like a baby sized sweater.

Two younger girls sat in a corner, chattering like you'd expect them to in a high school cafeteria.

Not an asylum.

Her eyes scanned through the small crowd of people dressed in blue, until her sight was laid on the man she came here for.

His face was serene, as he channeled his pure attention to swirling the thin brush that was clutched in his hands, onto the canvas.

An array of color pots was triaged before him, almost appearing rainbow-like on the mess of papers that were scattered under them.

He looked heavenly calm; but in the moment his eyes met hers, Tahlia could clearly see the fire that years of psychotherapy had failed to diminish.

He looked at her straight, "Natalia."

Unsure of what to do, Tahlia quietly took the vacant seat across his.

"Logan." She acknowledged.

Her gaze flew to the subject of Logan's attention. The canvas was painted dark, almost resembling an unlit night sky.

She couldn't quite make out what he was painting, but whatever it was, it felt intense.

"I—"

A loud noise of what seemed like crashing plastic on the floor, deflected their attention to the table to the corner of the room.

Two middle-aged women stood heatedly arguing about something, when one of them pulled on the other's blonde hair. The blonde let out a deafening screech as she jumped the woman, tackling her to the floor.

The guard and the three orderlies that were stationed in the room, rushed to the spot as they attempted to pull them off each other, the guard even having to pull out a taser.

Logan rolled his eyes,

"I fucking hate this place." He spoke under his breath as he proceeded to stipple the blue chrome over the black base, not paying attention to all the screaming and hollering that was going all around them.

Tahlia tore her attention away from his canvas, "Then why are you here?" She asked charily.

Logan smiled first, pausing, as he looked up. He put the brush down, leaning back in his chair, "I had something to tell you, ask for a favor actually."

"In here? What is it?" Tahlia's tone came laced with uncertainty all over it.

"Not now, not this way." He said in hushed tones.

"But I-"

"I believe it's my turn to ask a question."

Her lips parted to form a protest, but she caved in, sighing.

His smile beamed, "Would you come back here if you had a choice?"

Her heart almost stopped.

Now, a few weeks ago, Tahlia Meyers would have snorted at the silly question.

Of course not, who in their right minds would ever return to this wretched place?

But now...

No. She couldn't let it show.

She wet her dry lips, "No."

Logan Hunt's smile morphed into that damn smirk.

"Something tells me that's not it."

"I talked to Dr. Richardson."

She announced quickly, in hopes to deviate him from getting to her.

He raised an eyebrow.

"He didn't seem to know much about...about the fire thing." She voiced, leaving out their talk about Ian a few weeks ago.

"Why haven't you told them, what you told me?"

Logan cocked his head to the side.

"Psychiatrists are boring, I'd rather talk to you."

It took a second for her face to recover from the blush that had spread along the skin, to understand the gravity of the situation.

She shook her head, "Logan, you need to." She placed her hand on the table, out towards him with no reason and no anticipation.

"They can help you. You have t-"

"Help me?"

Suddenly, his demeanor changed.

Lighter undercurrents were replaced by much darker, more menacing ones.

Tahlia felt her fingers being encaged by another set of callous fingers.

"You think they can help me?"

She glimpsed at his darkening eyes, and then at her hand, "What are you doing Lo-"

"You think they do me any good?" His hold on her hand tightened with a heightened vigour.

"Logan, stop! Ple-"

"The only thing they're good at, is reducing your mind to figures and diagnostics."

He spat heatedly, as he looked into her eyes with burning ferocity.

She glanced around fervently to call out for somebody to help, only to find the staff gone from their places, not back yet.

"Look at Old Willy." He motioned to a side.

Tahlia's petrified gaze moved to a senile, but jolly looking man who was playing a happy game of chess with another old man. He reminded her of one of those merry grandparents Tahlia always saw on television.

"He just stabbed one of the new nurses here in the leg with a pen."

Just then, the old man smiled warmly at the other man who groaned in defeat, "Checkmate."

Before Tahlia could even react to what she was being compelled to hear, Logan pointed to the first table with the knitting lady.

"That woman, Gloria Alvarez, bashed the heads of her husband and her 2 year old with a vase forty years ago. Still believes they are going to come back to her."

Tahlia whimpered, "Logan you're hurting me. Please."

At that moment, her eyes searched his, for any sign of humanity.

She found nothing.

"Let me tell you something, kitten." He leaned in closer.

"No big words from the medical dictionary can come close to defining what's inside.." His index finger tapped against the side of his temples twice, "..This."

By this time, others had also started looking at their exchange with interest.

"Stop!" She tried to pull back with all her strength, but he never budged, increasing the pressure in turn.

He smiled, with the intent of a murderer, "Tell me Natalia, do these psychiatrists know how fucked up you are?"

She stilled in her place, stopping her struggle at once.

His face grew more cruel, "That's right, they don't know about what went down with Mommy dearest, now do they?"

She gulped, an all familiar nuance taking over her body. Fear.

"Do they know why you flinch when they pass with syringes nearby you?"

All hue drained from Natalia's face, her knees quivering like jelly to match the trembling of her hands.

A lot of people had stopped with what they were doing, chiming in ardently to see what was going down.

"Let go." She chewed down on her lip, her voice breaking.

She shut her eyes close. Not because of her predicament with Logan, but what she felt coming from inside.

But of course, it didn't even take a second for Logan to pick up on her hesitation.

His hand never left hers, as he stood up, bending forwards to stoop down to her eye level, just a hairsbreadth away from her face.

"Say what you want to. Say it out loud Natalia."

She took a deep breath.

"I know.." She paused to swallowed some saliva to wet her dry mouth,

"...About Ian."

Logan's jaw clenched. His grip on Tahlia's hand tightened with catastrophic intentions.

Tahlia stood up too, praying for her voice to not fail her.

"I know all about it. All about how you're not yourself when you turn into that monster. Please, it's- it's all a delusion, you're not that pers-"

Tahlia didn't get to finish her sentence, before her supply of air was cut off.

Slender fingers were wrapped around her fragile neck in the flick of a wrist, slamming her down into the chair.

As she frantically fought to pry his skintight fingers away from her throat, her pleading eyes were trained on Logan Hunt.

She saw something there, something hidden in the depths of his face.

It soon registered in her mind as insanity.

She managed to scream for help in between difficult breaths, dazed at how no one was doing anything to help her. Some of the patients even cheered on for him to continue.

She continued to grow light headed, her vision obscuring with haziness and dark spots. Tahlia had slowly started giving in to the darkness, when all of a sudden, she was set free from death's clutch.

Her body slumped down on the floor, coughing, gasping for air.

Soon enough, somebody was at her side, helping her up. The familiar face of Michelle was sat beside her form, as she continued to writhe in pain and shock.

She was saying something, but none of it was making it's way to Tahlia's ears.

Through her teary vision, she saw an unconscious Logan Hunt being carried away by orderlies. The other patients in the room too were being lead out.

Tahlia's hands flew to her neck instinctively, where the hands of the monster were a few minutes ago.

This is what Logan Hunt was.

This is the darkness that everyone fears. It's all him.

She stroked the sore area on her neck lightly, letting out a desperate whimper.

Michelle, who was rubbing circles on her back, crouched down to her, "I'm going to go get help sweetie, stay here. You're safe." With that she stood up, walking out the door swiftly.

Tahlia wanted to voice her disagreement, not wanting to be alone for a second anymore, but she'd lost all her strength, to barely open her mouth.

As she waited for Michelle to return, she wiped her tears with the sleeve of her sweater, shifting her eyes to the mess that she currently sat on.

Numerous papers lay scattered all around, being muddled and go flying all over the place during their scuffle.

Her eyes spotted the dark painting which he was creating before. In a fit of rage and agony, she grabbed at it, tearing it up into tiny little smithereens, slamming all the pieces onto the floor.

It would never be the same again.

As a fresh drop of stubborn tear rolled down her cheek again, her gaze landed on the small piece of paper that peeked out of the mess.

Like all the others, it was a plain white sheet, except for the small writing on it that made it stand out.

Her name.

It was an envelope. She grasped it warily, bringing it closer to her sight, dazed at the sight of her name written on it in cursive letters.

She opened it with shaky hands.

Meet me on friday, 11 pm.

Use the key to get in from the back entrance.

Please, whatever happens, I need to see you Natalia.

L.H.

And of course, inside it was a rusty key.

With trembling fingers, she managed to put the contents of the envelope back inside, shoving it in her pocket.

With that, Natalia Faith Meyers completely broke down.

✴✴✴