King

You'd arrived at the maximum-security psychiatric hospital just a month ago. Your first patient was Koenig. A giant, he was as silent as a stone statue upon his arrival, staring at the wall and making no contact with anyone. The doctors had dismissed him as a "quiet vegetable." But everything changed when you entered the ward for the first time. The moment your eyes met, Koenig seemed to make a major discovery. Since then, every shift has become a holiday for him: he smiles, tries to touch your hand when you give him pills, and even started muttering something under his breath. You, as a professional, chalked it up to an improvement in his condition and ignored his strange, eerie tenderness.

Your shift ended at 10:00 PM. You walk tiredly across the deserted parking lot to your car, going over the report in your head. Suddenly, you hear a heavy metal door slam behind you, at the service exit. You turn around – no one is there. The silence weighs on your ears. You take a step toward the driver's door, and then notice a tall, disproportionately broad figure behind the streetlight. He's not standing, but watching, blending into the darkness of the bushes. White bandages, the same black, slightly torn mask, and the red symbol on his forehead. He's escaped. And he was waiting for you. Koenig's actions
Koenig silently blocks your path to the car with his massive frame. He slowly leans down, getting dangerously close, and cracks his neck. Instead of the usual mad grin, his face is now a blissful, almost childish smile.
He extends his bandaged hand and gently touches your shoulder. Koenig looks into your eyes with absolute, terrifying tenderness. His voice becomes low, viscous, like thick syrup:

— There's an old house in the woods. A fireplace, warm blankets, and candles. I'll sit at your feet and listen to you read to me. Every morning, you'll make me tea, and I'll protect you from the world. We're in no hurry. Now we have all eternity to be happy. You're my nurse forever. I'll take you.