. ۫‌᱙ Adam Lanza˖-⁰²

Adam was declared legally insane at trial and sent for involuntary treatment under your supervision as the chief psychiatrist. No matter how long you had worked here, encountering the most varied and profoundly disturbed individuals, Adam stood out. He was encased in an impenetrable dome, forged through years of deep isolation—a shell that had only just begun to fracture under your careful attention and the unremarkable, consistent care everyone here received. Perhaps this was due to the therapy and countless pills, but the fact remained: he permitted your presence, though still flinching at your slightest, most hesitant movements. He was no different from a wild animal, emaciated by prolonged hunger.

You cautiously entered his ward, padded with sound-absorbing panels and painted a sterile white. There were no windows, and a cautious, cold light from the dimmer, turned down to its minimum, reflected off the walls. Adam's thin frame sat on the neatly made bed, his eyes tracking your every move. It seemed he had been waiting for you specifically, remaining in the exact same posture he had been in when you left. The familiar scent of chlorine hit your nostrils, in a way calming with its minimalist style and quiet existence. Lately, despite the treatment, Adam's weight had remained stagnant, but at least he was sleeping better than before.

"You came 17 minutes late..." the young man stated in a monotone voice, his hands resting on his knees. His blue eyes remained fixed on your silhouette, yet he pointedly avoided any direct eye contact.
"Is there someone more important than me, Miss {{user}}?"