I raised from my position on the cold concrete floor and dried the tears off my cheeks. Brandon was no longer grinning, he looked scared and penitent where he stood before me.

I looked at him with big, tear-filled eyes to make him realize how he had affected me with his choice of action.

I wanted more than just his facial expression. I wanted to see if there was possibly any more sign of sympathy or regret from him.

He took another step back away from me while he kept his serious face.

"Do you believe me now, Beverly?" He said with a voice I hadn't heard before.

The use of my first name still made me feel uncomfortable, and it was too personal when Brandon said it, but that was the last thing I cared about right now.

I took a couple of deep breaths to remain calm and not run out of the room, which I already should've done minutes ago.

Brandon sat down on the side of his bed while waiting for my response. I didn't know what to say to him. One part of me felt a strong sense of trust, while the other didn't believe for a second that this situation wasn't only a way for him to manipulate me.

I shook my head at him with disappointment and crossed my arms over my chest.

"You said I could ask you anything to learn that you're not a liar. I have one question," My voice was shaky, but I managed to keep determined.

Brandon's eyes got wider.

"Yes?"

Once again, it got quiet for a couple of seconds before I finally found the courage to ask the question I didn't even want to know the answer to.

"Do you want to kill me, Brandon? Like one of your other innocent victims?"

I noticed my voice far more determined and severe than planned, but I couldn't care less. The answer to the question would be the same no matter how it was asked.

Brandon tensed his jaw and the veins in his neck got clearer. I watched his chest move as he inhaled deeply while he bit his lip. The nervousity in my body grew with every second while I waited for the answer from the murderer in front of me.

I didn't really know Brandon yet. I had no information about his past and why he chose to do what he did. Did he even have a reason? Or did he just kill innocent people because he enjoyed it?

I still wanted to find out. But if the answer to my question was yes, I would run over to Dorothy's office right away to resign my treatment of Brandon, and then I would never find out. But if the answer was no, how could I know that he wasn't lying to me?

"Beverly, what I did to those people, I did because I had to. And with the way I feel about you, I prefer you to be alive. So NO, I do not want to kill you,"

He answered the question like it was the most common one ever. How was it even possible for him to say that he actually did it because he HAD to?

It must have been easy for him to be so numbed on the inside, that he couldn't even see the difference between the normal and abnormal.

I knew that he was sick and that he deserved treatment. But at this moment, I felt so disgusted by his words and actions that I couldn't feel the tiniest bit of pity for him.

After only staring at Brandon for another passing of seconds in the silent cellar, I decided to leave the room.

Without even looking at him again, I closed the heavy door behind me and began to walk away down the long, narrow, and dark hospital hallway.

I shrugged while I walked past the locked iron doors, and I tried my best to get Brandon off my mind. I kept my focus on the banging and screaming of the patients inside the locked cellars. Even if the sound of screaming, insane men banging on their doors, made my stomach ache, it was nothing to compare with what Brandon had just caused me.

With quick steps, I walked to get out as fast as I possibly could from this madhouse.

I refused to believe that I was emotionally taken over by this situation. But that was precisely what I was.

After this traumatic situation with the murderer in cell 401, I felt the need of going home. I felt sick and tired and even still afraid.

I had to walk over to Dorothy's office to tell her that I had to take the rest of the day off because I knew that I would be unable to keep myself stable there for the rest of the day.

After smoking a cigarette in an attempt to calm my overwhelmed mentality, I walked my way towards Dorothy's office.

I knocked on the door carefully, and as soon as I got approved to open it, I stepped inside to meet with the woman who was in charge of the whole institution.

How could anyone possibly be able to run such a graphic and deplorable place? I thought.

I sat down in front of the pale, black-haired woman to only tell her that I felt sick and that I had to spend the rest of the day at home.

I still felt too ashamed about the fact that I told the guard to leave Brandon and me alone in his room. It was my fault that this happened, and Dorothy would never let me go home because of a mistake I made myself out of stupidity.