So, I took off writing a new story a few days ago. I spent all day yesterday writing, it’s been so long since I’ve done that and it felt so good! I am so happy to start sharing some excerpts because I am really excited about writing this. I don’t have a title and I don’t even have a blurb for it. But here it goes…
Warning: This is a very rough draft.
I watched him as he paced his tiny solitary cell, walking barefoot across the cold tiled linoleum floor. He walked leaning his shoulder against the wall as he did, his head down looking at the floor, his dark chin length hair falling into his face, which made it difficult for me to see the emotions, if he had any, on his face. Was he just going for a stroll, or was he contemplating his next great escape, or who his next victim would be, who he would murder and mutilate? He looked like a tiger in a zoo, walking back and forth against the cage, eager and ravenous to be let loose.
He was taller up close, I had only seen him in photos before and on observation footage. Now I stood behind the privacy screen on the observation wall into his windowless room. He was wearing his orange jumpsuit pants and a wife beater tank. His orange jumpsuit shirt thrown on the floor, he must not like wearing a shirt very much. He was much paler than I had imaged, but I guess when you are the master of the criminal underworld, you’re not exactly basking in the sun. He was also way more fit and muscular then I would have pictured.
“Good luck.” Dr. Morell said as he stepped along the observation wall, startling me out of my attention on him, “all he does is either sit in silence unamused or crack jokes. Why your father thinks you will get something out of him, I don’t know. He’s not insane in need of cure, he’s in need of a chair, electric in nature, as most of our criminally insane patients are. This city and institution are a joke.”
“Well, I’m glad I know your stance on things, Doctor.” I replied in a sassy tone. “And my father thinks I’m a damn good psychiatrist. You’re just pissed that a patient was taken away from you. Tell Lewis to bring him into interview room four.”
“Meeting him face to face really isn’t a good idea.”
“Well, I can’t treat him from his cell door. I’m not afraid of someone who looks like the Crow.”
I knew Morell wouldn’t get the reference. “You have to be younger and hip to understand. Interview room four.”
Morell stormed off without saying another word and I returned my attention to the man pacing. According to his records, he got off on giving everyone at the facility a problem, refusing to do anything the guards or nurses asked. He would like to cause a scene sometimes, smashing himself into a wall or door until he has to be subdued and given an injection to be knocked out – I’m sure he got off on that, too. As a criminal mastermind, who controlled the highly addictive synthetic drug, L, of this city, I was sure he was addicted to it too, and needed something during his stay to help him through without it. Knowing his knack for giving staff problems, getting him out of his room was…well, tricky.