Then, a knock on his open door that surprised him, and also confirmed that he hadn’t been hearing things.Richard placed the report on the desk and turned to face whoever was in the office.Except, it wasn’t someone working late but a visitor.
"Did I scare you, Dr.Langford?"the visitor asked.
"No, sorry, it’s fine," Richard said, not sure why he was the one apologizing."I mean, yes, you did scare me, but only because I thought I was alone.Did you know I was here?"
The visitor smiled."I suspected you would be.From those I’ve spoken to, I’m aware that you often work late.I guess that old habits die hard."
Rickard chuckled, then gestured toward the chair on the other side of his desk, directly below the window."Please.I assume you’ve come to talk."
"No.Well, yes."The visitor entered the room and rounded the desk to sit opposite him.
The visitor obviously knew Richard, and Richard had a faint memory of the visitor, but couldn’t quite place them.The interaction up until that point had been brief, but it had gone on too long for Richard to ask for their name.So, he waited, hoping he would place the person.
"I wanted to talk to you about an old case," the visitor told him."Do you know Vincent McMorrow?"
"I do," Richard said."That is an old case.Vincent passed in prison."
"That’s right," the visitor said.
"He was diagnosed as being clinically insane," the visitor said."He still went to prison instead of a medical facility.Why was that?"
"Well."Richard sat back in his chair and sighed."Things were a lot different back then.We didn't know as much about the human mind as we know now.We also didn’t have as much support or treatment available back then, and there was a lot of skepticism about insanity in general.People hear that word and expect a raving lunatic, but usually, we’re looking at someone who can blend into society.If we only saw raving lunacy, it would be extremely easy to help these people when they need it, or to stop them from committing atrocities."
"Quite," the visitor said.
Richard studied his guest, trying to place them.He had been waffling about insanity, but didn't know yet why this person was asking him about it.Nor why they had come so late.
"I’m sorry, I should have asked your name when you first entered," Richard said with a weak smile."My mind is not what it used to be."
"Some people don't get the treatment they deserve, do they?"the guest asked, ignoring the question.
Richard paused for a moment.He searched the face before him for something to indicate who they were and why they were leading the direction of the conversation down a certain path.What were they really looking to have answered?
"We can’t always know what will help a person," Richard replied."We don't always know what a person is going through.We can only try to understand."
"But you can’t," the visitor insisted."You already said that.You don't understand what’s going on inside someone’s head, right?"
The visitor had gripped the edge of the desk and held on tight as if they might fall backward.
"To an extent, we can."Richard tried to remain calm, wanting to fight back against this unknown person in his office."We have very robust methods that aid us in understanding people.That’s not to say we can understand everything, but… do you need help?I can see that you’re anxious about something or someone."
"There are always mistakes, aren’t there?"the visitor asked."No matter how good orrobustyour methods are, you always make mistakes."
Richard couldn’t be sure if the frustration was aimed at him or his field in general.He held up his hands.
"Yes.I fully admit that.I’ve made mistakes, and so have countless others.We’re only human, and it’s an undeniable human trait to try and do the best we can.I don't claim to be anything other than human."
"No," the visitor said.They took a deep breath in through their nose as they looked down at their hands gripping the table.Then, they let that breath out, and with it, their shoulders slumped as if there was more than only air leaving their body.Then they looked up at Richard.
Richard flinched, and his breath caught in his throat.He’d seen that look in someone’s eyes before; he’d treated that look and what lay beneath it.His eyes flicked from his visitor’s eyes, clouding over with darkness, to the phone on his desk.As soon as he glanced at the phone, he knew it was a mistake.
He was only human, but the person before him was not.They were wild animals, waiting for the slightest movement of provocation to strike.Richard opened his mouth to say something, but it only dropped open in silence when the person sat opposite him leaped up onto the desk in a fury, a blade glinting in their hand.
And then strikes, vicious stabs downward with the knife.
Again and again and again.
His life didn't flash before his eyes as he was pinned to his chair.Nothing flashed before his eyes.Nothing could replace what he saw with his dying breath.No, not his dying breath, but the moment beyond when the breath left him, and his heart stopped beating, but his brain fired its last few neurons.
