Phantom Files

FILE 6: Kristofferson Isn't Kristofferson?

Took a while to get this chapter out so it's gonna be cringe worthy and make absolutely no sense

Enjoy~

Danny Fenton's POV

I reviewed everything I knew about the boy. It was such a curious thing to learn of a twelve-year-old boy in Arkham. There wasn't much description of him, just that he was a young and curious, yet vicious, kid.

It was obvious that Teresa wasn't fond of me, she seemed to have a little bit of a personal vendetta against therapists themselves, perhaps thinking that they were nothing but a waste of money. Every time I had ever met her face to face, she had this look in her sharp eyes that basically said the words, "I hate you".

I was about done with Harley's info when I heard a knock on my door. I closed the black notebook and tucked it into my drawer.

"Come in!" I hollered loud enough to hear, and then I heard the door gently open for once.

To my pleasant surprise, it was Aaron who'd opened my door.

"Hiya, Aaron! Everything fine in your neck of the woods?" I asked. We had talked the other day and he had helped me set up my fun little office.

"Everything's fine, Danny. Just gotta give you this." Aaron threw a walkie-talkie over to me, which I caught automatically. It was a bulky piece of thing, bigger than any regular one I'd seen.

"Just in case your called or something," He explained. "Dr. Gritsin told me to give it to you."

"Then why not call my office phone?" I questioned, sincerely confused. My office phone sat right there near my computer.

"As I said, just in case. I got to go now, Danny, work awaits." He gave a two-finger salute and left. I set the walkie-talkie to the side.

'How strange' was the only thought circling my head. Aaron just seemed to pass me a walkie-talkie and leave, as if it was a rushed piece of a story. Like some other-worldly author forgot to put it into earlier pages and just pushed it into the next chapter... As I was beginning to pick at a metaphoric wall, I heard knocking from my door.

"Come in!" I called for a second time. I was delighted by another calm entrance, yet the company wasn't as enjoyable as the last. But did seem to snap me from my pass train of thought.

Again, two guards, the very same guards, went through with pole attached restraints, dragging a poor patient. Only this time, I vividly remembered the boy. The boy who's hair was platinum blond and eyes were of a light blue; little Kristofferson stood before me with shackles and all. He was staring down at the ground, not bothering to look up, but I could see the faint blue peepers from my desk.

It was surprising, seeing Kristofferson was, indeed, Jake Denton. I guessed it was simply his mind that thought he was Kristofferson, though that Wicked Witch never told me specifics of his condition. Maybe a split-personality or an identity disorder?

"Ah, hello, kid!" I smiled, "Have a seat."

His head shot up from the ground and gave me a wide-eyed look, I was starting to think he was naturally wide-eyed.  His mouth was slightly agape as well, revealing his full row of sharp teeth, resembling a lot like an animal's. His aura unveiled emotions off surprise and anger but also sadness for some reason.

I turned to face the guard Lenny and the other, unnamed guard, "Now off with you two. Nobody could ever be relaxed near two heavily armed guards." They argued like the first time but I convinced them.

This time, they allowed no handcuffs on the boy since he was on a "less maul-y and rip-y mood". They stood outside and I was left with the boy.

"How are you doing?" I asked, avoiding the topic of his insanity for a little. It was best the befriend the patient so they would be more at ease at asking questions like, 'Why are you in an insane asylum?' or 'How come you think you're a completely different person?' or even 'You know your just a crazy person, right?'