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She walked gracefully toward the grand building in front of her as the wind tangled her restless wavy hair. The building consisted of stone walls that gave it a hint of an ancient castle inhabited by royal families. Scarlett smiled imperceptibly to herself, thinking how interesting it would be to wear one of the Victorian dresses for the ball held by the royal family.

Stepping into the chambers of the magnificent building, she found a blonde and annoying secretary Peyton at the reception. She nodded politely in greeting and took a grateful sip of the hot coffee she held in her hands. Good old Peyton, she thought. How is she always so happy? She never talked to her too much - and when she did, it wasn't voluntarily. She knew that she was twenty-seven and that yoga was her life — but God, how painful it was to listen to her. She was so excited all the time that Scarlett had the impression that she was drawing all energy from her. That isn't something a psychiatrist says, is it?

Scarlett didn't like to ''mix'' with people too much. She loved her solitude, coffee and good old-fashioned thinking in silence. She liked to be dark and twisty at times, enough to spice up her gloomy monotonous life. But not to spice it up with Peyton's unicorn glitter dust as she would like.

At the thought, her stomach tightened in a knot, and she realized she hadn't eaten anything that morning. She promised herself that she will treat herself with a huge cheeseburger from a small restaurant in her neighborhood. At least she hoped to hear the good news from Dr. Wilson. She could usually tell in his voice when he had good news for her.

Professor Dr. George Wilson (not at all pretentious, right?) was Scarlett's mentor while she was studying. And now he's ... well, a mentor again. After graduating, he was more than generous in offering her a place in his office. Of course, at first she would have worked on simpler cases, but again, it was an opportunity not to be missed. As the saying goes, all roads lead to Rome – Well, her path leads to the many doors that an internship at George Wilson's office provides.

George Wilson was a very successful psychiatrist for forty-nine years, with his office in the city center. It was simply not possible to live in California without hearing his name at least once. He has worked with a number of celebrities and with the police on countless cases, both with the victims of the crimes and with those who committed them. He was very prominent in his industry and his ego did not allow anyone to forget that.

And yes, from time to time he would be in good spirits and assign her some of his cases. Usually, it was nothing too exciting as the cases he worked on and thus became famous, but she did not despair. She felt that today was her day.

Her blood-red lounges stamped on the cold tiles of the hallway, emphasizing her arrival. She stood in front of the wooden door, which was slightly ajar, and heard the muffled angry voice of her mentor. He was talking to someone on the phone.

"I don't care, Detective. I did my best to pull out at least one piece of information from him, but it doesn't work. My time is expensive. "

Silence.

He was obviously listening to his interlocutor's answer.

''Yes, I know. And you know that this is not our first case together and what I am capable of. But when something doesn't work, it just doesn't work. In my profession, sometimes it's best to leave things as they are", he said casually, and then he heard a soft knock on the barely open door.

Scarlett politely opened the door and stood in the doorway. She noticed that Wilson's gaze from the ashtray on his desk fixed on her. He glanced over her body as he continued to listen intently to his interlocutor on the phone. She wore an elegant outfit consisting of a black light jacket and a tight black skirt that reached just above her knees and accentuated her curves.

He arched his eyebrows and shows her to sit down. She obediently responded to his signal and settled into a comfortable wooden ash chair with upholstered pillows. Her dark curly hair scattered across the back of the chair. Wilson straightened up in his chair and put out his cigar in the already full ashtray. He seems quite nervous. She pulled her black leather notebook from her purse and saw a certain spark in George's eyes – like he had some kind of revelation. His face revealed a few wrinkles, but Scarlett suspected he had undergone some aesthetic procedure. His face was too smooth for a man in those years.

"Thomas, I have an idea," he was alarmed, and saying he would call him later to explain the details, he hung up. He wiped his sweaty hands on his expensive pants, which probably cost as much as Scarlett's entire tuition. ''Scarlett, darling, how are you? '', he asked, smiling sweetly at her. His name was always followed with the nouns such as unbearable jerk and a selfish pig, but he was always nice to her.

I see something in you, Miss Young. You have the gift and the eye to recognize what is hidden. Never underestimate that.

She remembered his words in her final year. Not long after, he offered her an internship. She realized that it was one of the rare cases when something a man said knocked her off her feet.

She smiled back at him, but refrained. She didn't want to send a false signal as if she was flirting with him. She felt her hands slowly get wet, probably from the excitement playing in her bloodstream. She longed to hear what he had to say to her.

''I'm great, thanks for asking. I came as soon as you called me. "

'' I believe that you are interested why I invited you all of the sudden", he said mysteriously, and his eyebrows twitched. She nodded. "You see, I had a plan to assign you one of my cases today. A thirty-seven-year-old woman suffers from anxiety and depression. "

Scarlett shuddered at those words. This is her third case of anxiety and depression. Not to be misunderstood, she loved helping people. That is one of the reasons why she decided to become a psychiatrist. But when you work with a legend of this profession, you crave something new. Something exciting. Something that will make your blood flow in your veins, and your brain work day and night so that you won't even be able to sleep. So she prayed she would hear huge but in the continuation of his speech.

"But I came up with a new idea," he continued, and Scarlett's heart began to beat rapidly with excitement. "I have been working on one case for months and, unfortunately, there is no progress. The patient refuses any form of communication, has had manic episodes and is aggressive. Of course, he is in therapy, but sometimes things get out of hand. "

"Okay", she nodded. ''I love challenges. When can he come to the office? "

''That's the problem. He can't", he folded his hands in front of him in the form of a pyramid. "He's locked up in the Grand Valley Sanatorium."

"Oh", escaped from her lips smeared with red lipstick. "Why is he imprisoned? Is it because of his aggression? "

He was silent for a few moments, and then pulled a thick green folder from a drawer on the table. He bit his lower lip staring at that green thing in his hands as if it were a Pandora's Box he was afraid to open, then laid it on the table and slowly brought it closer to Scarlett.

"He's a serial killer."

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