CrystalNinjaPhoenix

Hi, I'm Crystal!

24 years old. I'm trying this out. Mostly a fanfiction writer. Pretty much only for jacksepticeye egos haha.


A JSE Fanfic
Chapter Nine: The Witching Hour
[This is part of an INCOMPLETE SERIES that I wrote in about 2018-2019. I don't know if I'll ever finish it, but I still think there's good stuff in it, and merit in reposting it here. JJ and Marvin have a serious talk in the middle of the night.]
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Jameson bolted upright, gasping silently. It took him a moment to remember where—and when—he was. He reached over, grabbing blindly in the dark until he was able to turn on his bedside lamp. With a simple click, yellow light flooded the bedroom. He looked at the clock: 12:10 a.m. He looked at the calendar: May 2018.

When was the last time he’d had one of those nightmares? It had to be at least a month since a bad dream had woken him up. Or, not a dream exactly. A memory he’d rather forget. What happened with the doctor must’ve triggered a relapse. He could still hear his words… He works for him! And you all are just letting him be here! You have been fooled, my friends, so dangerously fooled!

JJ shivered, then got out of bed. He found that, on nights like these, it helped to walk around, just to be alone with his thoughts. To reassure himself that they are his thoughts.

As he left the bedroom and entered the hall, he turned on all the lights. They were modern, electric lights, the sort of which that had only been mildly common back in his day. Their artificial glow, while helpful in ridding the house of shadows, made Jameson feel a vague sadness. He loved his new friends, of course, but he’d left so much behind. What ever happened to his old partner, who’d helped him behind the scenes? Or that kid who made toys, and wanted to be a part of the film business? Or his mother and father? They hadn’t been on the best of terms, but he still missed them.

He was halfway down the stairs when he realized there was a light already on. He stopped. He didn’t think it would be Anti. He was a creature of darkness. Still, that could leave any number of more conventional threats. JJ considered retreating back upstairs, but curiosity got the better of him. And there was no guarantee to be any danger. So he crept silently down the hall. The door to the parlor was ajar, and JJ peeked inside.

Marvin was there, slumped in one of the armchairs with his portable computer on his lap, eyes glued to the screen. His mask and wand were on a nearby table. All the lamps in the room were on, artificial illumination flooding their surroundings.

Relieved, JJ knocked on the door frame to announce his arrival. Marvin jumped, halfway to closing his computer when he spotted JJ standing in the doorway. “Oh, it’s just you,” he said, relieved. “Fuck, dude, don’t scare me like that. I didn’t even hear you coming down the hall.”

'My apologies,' JJ signed. He opened the door fully, entering the room. 'If I may ask, what are you doing here? I thought you were going to stay at a hotel tonight.'

“I thought about it, but…I dunno man, I just didn’t want any of us to be alone right now.” Marvin shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. The worry in his eyes gave him away. “You’re not gonna, like, kick me out, are you?”

'Of course not!' JJ reassured him. He didn’t want to admit it, but it would be kind of nice to know he wasn’t alone. 'But why are you still up so late?' Marvin was still wearing the same clothes he was yesterday, showing that he either hadn’t had the foresight to pack a pair of pajamas, or he hadn’t gone to sleep at all. Possibly both.

Marvin raised an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same question.”

JJ hesitated. His first instinct was to not bother his friend with his troubles, but Marvin—actually, all of the others—had repeatedly told him that if there was a problem they’d be happy to help. So he braced himself and signed, 'I had another nightmare.'

“Oh.” Marvin slumped. “I’m…sorry. Do you…want to talk about it?”

Jameson shook his head. 'Not tonight. But I don’t want to go back to sleep. Do you mind if I stay in here for a time?'

“Not at all. It’s your fucking house, after all. Take a seat.”

JJ let out a sigh of relief, then sat down in the armchair next to Marvin’s. The magician stared at him for a bit. “You’re absolutely sure you don’t want to talk about it? I’ll listen.”

'I know you will,' JJ signed. 'But this is…a difficult subject for me to talk about. It’s nice that you are open to it, but I don’t think…' he trailed off, hands frozen in the air.

“I get it.” Marvin nodded. “I really do. Just making sure you know I’m here for you.” He glanced back down at the computer, presumably checking for glitches, before looking back up. “It’s been a while since you had one, huh. Do you think yesterday…set you off, or something?”

Jameson nodded. 'The doctor. He seems like a kind enough person, but…he said some things to me.'

“Schneep’s not kind,” Marvin muttered. “Or, well, okay, let me explain. He’s nice, and he really wants to help people, but to me, ‘kind’ implies being polite and doin’ good things in everyday life. And in that area, he’s sorta lacking. He’s not afraid to speak his mind, even if it might hurt others. Also he yells a lot.” Marvin shook his head. “I’m getting off topic. The point is, you shouldn’t let his words get to you. He’s been through hell, and he was just…I dunno, projecting his frustration onto you. It’s nothing to do with you.”

'But it is, Marvin.' The sign Jameson used for Marvin’s name was rather simple, just the BSL “M” followed by the sign for cat. But using a name sign in personal conversation made the whole thing sound much more serious. 'I was there that night, when the doctor failed. I did help…him. And I know it was not my fault, that I was just a puppet, but I can’t help but feel guilty.'

Marvin remained silent for a long time, long enough to make Jameson nervous. But then he spoke. “That’s understandable. It’s probably like survivor’s guilt. You felt you should have done something, even if you couldn’t. And I…well, I can’t imagine going through what you did, feeling like that, for ninety years. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re…a bad person, or whatever your trauma is calling you, for not being able to stand up to him. And neither do Chase or Jackie. You did all you could, and you got fucked over for your trouble. That sucks. But you’re not the bad guy.”

Jameson folded his arms, hugging himself tight. He did feel a little better. Not completely one hundred percent better, but better. The doctor’s words still upset him, and he had the feeling he’d have to confront Schneeplestein directly to get over that. But for what it was…this was good.

'Thank you, Marvin,' he signed.

The magician smiled reassuringly. “No problem, dude. You ready to go to bed again?”

JJ shook his head. Marvin nodded, and returned to his computer. What was he doing anyway? What were any of them doing when they were logged onto the Interwebs? On an impulse, he leaned over and looked at Marvin’s screen.

“Wh—no!” Marvin slammed the computer closed, but not before Jameson had time to see what exactly was on display. His eyes widened. Anyone else wouldn’t have recognized them, wouldn’t have known what type of spells those were. But Jameson did. He looked at Marvin, hoping for an explanation.

“You know what, I think I’ll go to bed myself,” Marvin laughed nervously. He stood up, holding the computer close to his chest, and made his way over to the room’s exit. Quickly, Jameson scrambled to his feet and ran in front of Marvin, blocking him. “Uh—JJ, dude, I know I’m usually a night owl but I’m pretty tired right now, y’know?” He sidestepped, only for Jameson to block him again. A second time, the same result. “Jameson, really, leave. Please.”

JJ shook his head, then made two simple signs. 'Black magic?'

Marvin froze. “I…”

'Marvin, why are you looking up spells like that?'

“I—I mean, th-there’s—” he scrambled for an explanation. “With An—with him out there, I-I thought that we could, ah, use some more—some firepower, and these are really powerful spells, and—”

'You’re better than that, Marvin,' JJ signed sadly.

“I…no, I’m not.” The words were almost too quiet to hear. Marvin looked down. He didn’t want to see the look on JJ’s face when he explained. “I’m really not. I know that to you and Jackie and Chase I’m—I’m the magic man, the expert, the-the good to balance out his evil magic—but I’m not, JJ. I’m not a good person.”

JJ waved his hand in front of Marvin’s face, making him look up. Jameson wasn’t disappointed at all, but somehow that made it worse. He didn’t understand what Marvin was trying to tell him. Jameson raised an eyebrow, and signed,' What was that you were saying earlier, about me not being the bad guy? I’d hate to throw your own words back at you, but that’s exactly what needs to be done here.'

Marvin was already shaking his head. “No, it’s not the same thing, JJ. You were forced to do terrible things. And even when you sought out the dangerous kind of magick, you never really wanted to use it, you just wanted to know. I—I’m not like that.” He swallowed nervously. He knew this would come out eventually—he didn’t want it to, but he knew—so it would be better to rip the bandage off. “Back when I first discovered magic, I wanted to know more. I wanted to be more. And I didn’t have any noble reason for it, I wasn’t even simply curious. I wanted to be the most powerful, most famous magician out there. And when I found those spells, I read the warnings and everything, and I didn’t care. As long as it got me where I wanted. And I just kept going down, and down, and down, until I almost—I almost did something terrible, JJ. And I almost didn’t regret it. Do you—” he took a deep breath. “Do you honestly think that somebody like that could be a good person?”

There was no hesitation. JJ nodded.

Marvin blinked. “Did—did you even hear a word I said?”

He nodded again. 'Look Marvin, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you can’t change what you’ve done in the past. And the fact that you acknowledge your mistakes and want to improve means you are better than you think you are. And if I’m not allowed to berate myself, you aren’t either.'

“I—” Marvin realized he was clutching his computer so tight that it was leaving imprints in his hands. He relaxed his grip a bit, and somehow that was the cue to start the breakdown. Suddenly there were tears coming from his eyes and his shoulders were shaking and JJ was hugging him gently. All he could do was bury his face in his shoulder and dully repeat through the sobs“I’m not—I’m not—” even though every time he tried to say the words he could feel JJ shake his head.

They stayed like that for a while, before Marvin finally pulled away. He blinked away the remains of the tears. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

JJ smiled brightly. 'It’s no problem, Mr. Magician. I owe you for rescuing me in the first place, not to mention everything since then.'

Marvin laughed. “By that logic, I still owe you for letting me stay in your house for free. And since when have you called me—what was that? Magician?”

'M-I-S-T-E-R Magician,' JJ corrected, spelling out the word.

“Well, that’s even stranger then.” Marvin looked down and realized he was still holding his computer. “I think…I think I’m gonna put this away. I, uh, brought a duffel bag of my stuff and left in in your guest room. I’ll go put this there.”

JJ nodded, standing aside so Marvin could get past. He was going to go back to bed himself. It had been a long night, but they both came out of it feeling alright. It wasn’t perfect; JJ had the sneaking suspicion there was more to Marvin’s problem. But a start was better than nothing.

Bang!

JJ jumped. What was that? It sounded like it came from the front. He walked out into the hall and looked toward the entrance. There was the creak of the door opening.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!!”

He didn’t waste time in running down the hall and toward Marvin’s shout. He rounded a corner into the entrance, only to see Marvin staring, shocked, out the front door. He was holding something in his hand. He must’ve heard JJ’s footsteps, because he immediately turned around upon his arrival in the entrance. “Dude…” the magician said. “You’re not gonna fucking believe this…”

'What? It’s not anything bad, is it?'

“To the contrary, I think.” Marvin held out his hand, showing the thing nestled in his palm to JJ.

JJ, meanwhile, stumbled back in shock. 'That’s not…?'

“It is,” Marvin nodded.

'We have to tell the others. Right now.'

“Fuck that, we have to SHOW the others right now. Get dressed. They’re at Jackie’s apartment, so that’s where we’re going.”



A JSE Fanfic
Chapter Eight: Wahnvorstellung
[This is part of an INCOMPLETE SERIES that I wrote in about 2018-2019. I don't know if I'll ever finish it, but I still think there's good stuff in it, and merit in reposting it here. Bottling up your problems never leads to anything good. A familiar environment, now changed, sets off a series of severe flashbacks.]
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“Henrik! Wait!”

“Doc, please!”

Schneep heard their cries and didn’t stop running. He didn’t want to hear any of their excuses. He didn’t want to calm down and go back to Marvin and that—that OTHER man, who was supposed to be named Jameson but how could that be possible how could it be when he’d seen him that night with the glitch himself what was happening he didn’t know—

It took him a while to start seeing his surroundings again. He’d been running on adrenaline and a basic need to get somewhere safe, so he’d followed his instincts and fled to his hospital office. Or at least, what had been his office. The nameplate next to the door had been changed. Now it belonged to some doctor with an even more ridiculous name. Schneep glanced around. He’d managed to lose Jackie and Chase, but he didn’t want to risk seeing them. On impulse, he reached for the door and turned the handle. Surprisingly, the door opened without resistance.

The office inside could’ve been a movie set, it was so plain and bland. No, not even that. It was like a display in a furniture store. All the necessary items were there: desk, chairs, filing cabinets. But there was nothing personal. No coats draped over the coat hanger. No picture frames on the desks. No…nothing.

Schneep wandered over to the desk. It was so surreal to see this room stripped and empty. He wondered what they’d done with all his things. He knew he’d left a jacket on one of the chairs. And he’d had photos of his wife and kids, from before…what happened to them? Did the police take them as evidence? Did one of the others decide to keep them safe? Or did they just get thrown away? Logically, that was the least likely, but the doctor couldn’t shake the feeling that was exactly what happened.

The desk’s surface was clear. There wasn’t even any paperwork. There was a laptop computer open, its screen off. Instinctively, Schneep slammed it shut. Static screen…watching from the webcam…he didn’t want that.

It was only when he backed away from the computer that he realized his hands were shaking.

Nothing was safe. HE was always there, always watching. Schneep had hoped that once he got away he wouldn’t have to think about it ever again. That he’d just have to wake up Jack and then everything could go back to normal. Never mind that he knew this hope would never come to fruition. You can’t simply forget about everything that’s happened. But he wanted, at least, to be safe around his friends. But that just wasn’t happening, with Chase’s kids gone and that stranger here.

Maybe this whole thing wasn’t even real. Maybe it was just another illusion. Maybe Schneep would wake up any minute and be there, and he’d be laughing at him and the foolish dreams he’d fallen prey to—

No. Stop it.

But it didn’t work.

Maybe he’d really gotten away, but the others still weren’t there, and he’d been running around talking to himself, and when he tried to get help people wouldn’t even look his way because they thought he was crazy. Maybe the others had all been captured and he could hear them but their cries were being filtered through the hallucination. Maybe he was the one in the coma instead of Jack and this was all a dream caused by him.

Maybe Jack was already—

“I think he’s in here.”

“But the door is locked.”

“He could’ve locked it behind him.”

“Doc! Are you in there?”

Somehow, Schneep realized he’d fallen to the floor. He didn’t know how or when it happened, and he couldn’t think clearly enough through the whirling in his mind. He didn’t bother answering the call.

“Actually, would he even answer? He’s kinda pissed off at us.”

“Well, okay, maybe not. You sure the door is locked?”

“Yeah. D’you think we should break it—”

BAM!

The door flew open. Jackie stumbled into the room, propelled by the force of the blow he’d used to break it down. Chase hurried forward to catch him before he fell. “Thanks,” Jackie mumbled. “Now…Henrik? Are you in here?”

There was no answer, but Chase nudged Jackie and pointed to an arm peeking out from behind the desk. The two of them exchanged worried look. “Trap?” Chase mouthed. Jackie shrugged, and jerked his head toward the desk. The two of them crept forward. On the other side of the desk, Schneep was curled up into a ball, one hand protecting his head like he was waiting for an attack that would never come, the other flung out like he was reaching for something.

“Doc? You okay?” Chase asked nervously.

There was no answer. Jackie hovered, unsure of what to do. He’d never seen his friend like this before. Mentally, he thought of all the various victims of crimes he’d met in his hero career. Was Schneep in some sort of shock? The behavior seemed to match a bit. Okay, what to do with people in shock? He wasn’t a professional in these matters, but maybe he could get Schneep at least mostly functional again. He knelt on the ground beside him and said in a quiet voice “Henrik? Henrik, we need you to answer.” Still no response. Chase gave Jackie another worried look.

Jackie made a small shush sound in Chase’s direction. He could handle this. Probably. Then he turned his attention back to Schneep. “Hey, Henrik? Schneep? Doctor Schneeplestein? We need to get out of here.” When there was still no response, Jackie leaned back and thought a bit more. Maybe there was something physically wrong. It wouldn’t hurt to check. “Henrik, I’m just gonna see if you’re alright, okay?” Jackie reached toward the doctor’s wrist, intending to start by taking a pulse.

The moment his hand touched Schneep’s, it was batted away. With a sudden lurch, Schneep sat straight up and forcibly pushed Jackie hard enough to knock him over. The hero hit his head against the floor with a loud CLUNK!

“Jackie! Are you okay?” Chase rushed to the aid of his friend.

“’M fine,” Jackie grunted, rubbing the back of his head where it impacted the hard wooden floor.

Chase turned to Schneep. “Dude, what’s up with you? We’re here to help!”

That only seemed to make it worse. Schneep’s eyes widened, and he froze. Only for a moment though, which was broken by a sudden shriek that Chase didn’t immediately register as coming from Schneep. Partly because the shriek was followed by a frantic attempt to scramble away from Chase as Schneep crawled under the desk.

“Doc?” Chase leaned past Jackie and looked into the recess under the desk. “What’re you doing?”

“GET AWAY!”

Chase’s head whipped backward and a sickening crack shot through the air. He felt warm liquid trickling down his face, and a second later came the pain. “He hit me!” Chase said, astonished.

Jackie sat up. “I don’t think—I think something’s very wrong right now. With him. You okay?”

Chase touched the site of injury, causing a flare of pain. “I think he broke my nose.”

Jackie gritted his teeth. “Okay, normally I’m all for letting people work out their issues at their own pace, but we should at least get him out of this place. It might be making whatever this is worse. I know I’d be freaking out if I got stuck in my old office after so long away. So, as much as I hate to do this, I think force is an appropriate response. Nothing else’s worked. So on the count of three, you and I are gonna have to pull him out of there. Got it?”

Chase nodded, trying his best to wipe away the blood. They’d both hate to do it, but Schneep wasn’t making it any easier. “Alright.” Jackie took a deep, steadying breath. “One…two…” A brief moment of hesitation. “Three!”

They moved together, grabbing Schneep and desperately trying to get him out into the open. The doctor tried equally desperately to stay hidden, one minute trying to brace against the sides of the desk and stay rooted in place, the next flailing wildly, hitting every inch of the other two. Eventually, with determination and a fair amount of bruising, Chase and Jackie pulled Schneep away from his hiding place.

“LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY!”

One solid hit landed against the side of Jackie’s head, jolting him enough to get him to let go. Chase had enough common sense to get in between Schneep and the desk before he could dart back underneath. Again, Schneep froze. There were tears in his eyes.

“Doc, come on, you gotta listen to reason here,” Chase pleaded.

“NO! No more your reason!” He pushed and pounded at Chase. “I do not—you will not—I cannot do anymore!”

“Henrik, stop!” Jackie, having recovered his wits, acted quickly, wrapping Schneep up in a hug of death that pinned his arms to his sides. “Leave Chase alone!”

Schneep shook his head, looking from side to side. “Is not here. Is not here. Is you, do not lie.”

“Me?” Jackie frowned, confused. “Who…? I’m Jackie, Henrik.”

“Is not. Is not. You are liar.”

“Who do you think…” Jackie trailed off as realization dawned. They DID all look similar, didn’t they? “Henrik, no, he’s not here! You’re not stuck with him anymore!”

“STOP LYING TO ME!” Schneep wailed. “I do not—I do not want—do not make me, please—”

“Don’t make you…what?”

“I do not want—they are my friends, I will not—I am doctor, I do not hurt—please do not—bitte nicht—”

Oh god. “No, Hen, this—I’m not gonna make you—” Jackie looked to Chase for help, but he looked just as shocked. “We’re just gonna…get out of here,” Jackie muttered.

Schneep had no protest to that. He’d shut down, not moving, vaguely muttering things, switching back and forth between his two languages. In retrospect, Jackie realized it probably wasn’t the best idea to wrap up someone having a panic attack. But they had to fix that later. He wasn’t sure how thick the walls of the hospital were, but there was a chance that people had heard the shouting and were coming to check it out. With Chase being a suspect in a kidnapping, Jackie didn’t even want to think what this would look like.

“Chase, we’re going back to the apartment,” Jackie said. He stood up, bringing Schneep with him.

“I…okay.” Chase winced. A few of the doctor’s desperate punches had hit pretty hard. But he stood up without difficulty. “Why not my house?”

“Police may be watching. Probably already weird that you two left so suddenly, and then you come back and one of you’s catatonic. Also it’s closer. Can you just…” Jackie shifted his weight. “I mean, I’m pretty strong, but it might be good for him to have physical contact that’s not quite as…constricting.”

“Oh. Yeah bro, I’ll help.” Chase took one of Schneep’s arms and threw it around his shoulders. “God, what…is this our fault?”

“Maybe a little bit…” Jackie didn’t want to admit it, but it was true. “But I think…I think a lot of it is his fault. He did…whatever it was that made Schneep this way.”

Chase nodded. “Is he gonna be okay.”

Jackie honestly didn’t know. But he couldn’t say that in front of Chase, who already had a hard time seeing the bright side. “Eventually.” He forced himself to put a touch of optimism into his voice. “Let’s go.”

As they left, Chase brought up a fair point: “Hey, how’d the door get locked? I don’t think he has keys anymore.”

“I…don’t know. But there’s no good explanation.”

Indeed, it felt like they were being watched the whole way home.



A JSE Fanfic
Chapter Seven: A Change of Perspective
[This is part of an INCOMPLETE SERIES that I wrote in about 2018-2019. I don't know if I'll ever finish it, but I still think there's good stuff in it, and merit in reposting it here. Taking a break from the drama with the main characters, the detectives start digging around, and find there’s some weird things in the boys’ varied pasts. Could it all be connected?]
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It was definitely a strange case. When Detective Lydia Bowman decided to take it on, she thought it would be open-and-shut, easy. The kids said they were playing with their dad when he came to visit, and then they disappear in the night. The mother, Stacy Davidson, had no grudges, nobody who hated her, and loved her kids. Clearly, that meant the dad had gone crazy with grief and taken them. There was even precedence: the father had previously tried to off himself, back at the beginning of the divorce, because he couldn’t stand to be away from his kids and wife. History of mental instability was usually a warning sign when considering someone a suspect for a crime.

But then, Lydia and Malcolm had gone to actually question the father (Chase Brody, what a ridiculous name), and he hadn’t seemed…unstable. Okay, maybe he wasn’t in complete control of his life, judging by the state of his living room, but Lydia didn’t think he was a criminal. Her instincts said he was just kind of sad. And when you’ve been a detective for as long as she had, you learn to trust your instincts.

The police station was bustling, as usual. The city was in the middle of a crime wave, and that crazy vigilante in red wasn’t helping, despite their good intentions. Massaging her temple where a headache was blooming, Lydia slid into her desk chair with a sigh. She pushed aside a pile of paperwork and stared at her partner, sitting at his own desk across from her. Malcolm was staring very intently at his computer screen. “So, there’s no sign of the kids,” Lydia said without preamble. “And I don’t think Brody took them. Call me crazy, but it won’t change my mind. Have we reached a dead end or have you found something?”

Malcolm glanced at her. “Actually, maybe,” he said. “That doctor dude? The one who was arguing with you?”

“Mm-hmm, yes,” Lydia’s tone was calm, but her expression darkened. “That doctor dude” had been very disrespectful when the detectives were only trying to do their job. Lydia absolutely hated people like that.

“So, naturally, upon being told his name was ‘von Schneeplestein,’” Malcolm rolled his eyes, “I had to check to see if that was even a real name. Just for shits and giggles, I plugged it into our database, and, well…” Malcolm turned his computer monitor around so his partner could see. The words “MISSING PERSON REPORT” were clearly visible across the top of the page.

Intrigued, Lydia leaned closer. “August 3rd of last year,” she muttered as she read, working through her thoughts.”Reported by one Jackie Parker. Vanished after an unsuccessful operation left patient in a coma. Unsolved…” She frowned. “But…we just saw him. He certainly didn’t look missing.”

“That’s what I thought!” Malcolm nodded vigorously. “And look—” he clicked over to the picture included with the report. “Same person, only wearing glasses and healthier-looking.”

“Okay…” Lydia leaned back. “So, are you saying Brody had something to do with this guy’s disappearance, and that’s why he was with him? But why? And how?”

“I dunno.” Malcolm turned the monitor back around. “Obviously, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. There could be a very reasonable explanation, and we could be turning into conspiracy nuts. Still…I’m gonna run a facial recognition search. Just one. ‘Cause these guys are doppelgangers of each other, so things should come up for both.”

At that moment, a uniformed cop poked his head around the corner. “Sorry, Bowman, Akela,” he said. “But there’s a lady here demanding answers for her case. Name of Davis, I think.”

“Davidson,” Lydia sighed. “What perfect timing!” She pushed away from the desk and stood up. “I’ll go talk to her. When I come back, fill me in on the results of the search.” Malcolm gave her a thumbs up as she left.

Ms. Stacy Davidson was sitting on a bench in the foyer of the police station. Her curling, white-blond hair was tied up in a ponytail, and she still wore the red vest and skirt that was the uniform at the diner where she worked. She was clutching her purse tightly and tapping her feet, brown eyes darting left and right. She shot to her feet upon catching sight of Lydia. “Detective Bowman,” she trilled.

“Ms. Davidson,” Lydia nodded. “I was told you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, yes, you heard right.” Stacy was trying very hard to keep cool, but Lydia could hear the strain in her voice. “I just wanted to know if there are any updates. After all, this is a very important case, children don’t go missing often. It makes sense that, as the mother—”

Lydia cut off Stacy’s clearly well-rehearsed speech. “There hasn’t been any breakthroughs. We talked to your ex-husband, and we found nothing suspicious.”

“Really?” Stacy drawled disbelievingly. Then, catching herself, she rushed to say “I-I mean, I thought the evidence would tell the story.”

“What a child says usually isn’t very reliable. They’re very imaginative,” Lydia pointed out. “If Mr. Brody is hiding something, he’s unusually well-practiced at lying.” He had been rather nervous, but he just discovered his children were missing and the police had their eye on him. Even as a cop herself, Lydia could understand where the nerves were coming from.

“Maybe you should do some digging? Isn’t that what detectives do?” Stacy said desperately.

“That’s what we’re doing, but nothing’s turned up.” Lydia considered asking Stacy about the strange doctor who shared her ex’s face. “You don’t think that somebody who merely LOOKS like your husband could’ve taken your children, masquerading as him?” She tried to ask the question as discreetly as possible.

“Oh.” Stacy scowled. “Well, there ARE those weird friends of his. They all kind of look the same.”

“Really? How many of them are there?”

“Hard to say. I think there are…four? No…” Stacy bit her lip in thought. “No, a couple of them are gone, I think. Don’t ask me how, because I don’t know. There’s tw—no, three. Another one popped up a while ago. You’re saying one of them could’ve taken Bobby and Trevor?”

“We need to take everything into consideration. And we’re doing everything in our power to find your children. Now, if you would please, we have work to do…” Lydia tried to be as gentle as possible. Still Stacy huffed, before correcting herself with a smile and a nod. She turned and left, and Lydia sighed in relief. She was sure Stacy was a lovely lady, and she certainly cared for her kids, but she had a bit of an unpleasant streak covered by politeness, and she seemed determined to hate her ex. What did he even do?

“Please tell me you have a good solid lead,” Lydia muttered as she sat back down at her desk.

“Um…no?” Malcolm sounded very unsure.

“What d’you mean ‘um, no?’ How can you have an ‘um’ in this situation? You either have a lead or you don’t.”

“Well, I mean—okay, look, there were way more results than I thought there would be.” Malcolm gave Lydia a confused and exasperated look. “So, the first things that came up were YouTube videos. Apparently Chase Brody runs a channel called ‘Bro Average.’”

“Lame,” Lydia rolled her eyes.

“You don’t even know anything about it.”

“The name’s stupid. I can see why Ms. Davidson doesn’t like his job. What came up next?”

“I’m not done talking about YouTube yet. Because the next results were for a channel called ‘jacksepticeye.’ A gaming channel, as opposed to Brody’s trick shots. Run by a man named Jack McLoughlin. Nineteen million subscribers and counting. Seems like a nice guy, he’s donated to charity. Oh yeah, and he also looks eerily similar to Chase Brody. And knows him.” Malcolm turned the monitor around once again, showing Lydia a picture of two guys, both with brown hair dyed green, laughing at the camera. The did look really, really similar. Could’ve been twins.

“So, I just asked Ms. Davidson if her ex has any friends who look just like him,” Lydia said slowly. “And she said yes, there were quite a few. Two apparently disappeared, though. And now there are three. Maybe one of them was the doctor. By any chance, has this Jack guy vanished mysteriously?”

“No, he’s still uploading YouTube videos and doing other stuff. But there’s more.” Malcolm clicked to the next page of results. “This comes from our own database. Recognize the name?”

Lydia squinted. “Jackie Parker? Wait…didn’t they report the doctor missing?”

“Yep. Apparently, Mr. Parker went to the police academy, but dropped out in his final year. See?” Malcolm clicked over to the academy’s enrollment form, filled out. Then over to the next page, highlighting a lack of a diploma. “Shame, too, he was near the top of his class.”

“And this guy also looks like…well, all the others!” Lydia half-shouted. “How many of them are there?!”

“At least one,” Malcolm said with a slight grin. “Next page is just medical news about the doctor, confirming that yes, his real name is actually Schneeplestein, but after that—you’re gonna love this.” Two more clicks brought the detectives to a screenshot from an online news site. The headline read “Magician Gone Mad! Misfire at Marvin the Magnificent’s Latest Performance.” Beneath the bold letters was a picture of a man in a tuxedo and a mask shaped like a cat, with bright green hair. Farther down in the article was another picture of him, revealing that he also looked like…well, everyone else in this godforsaken case.

“Hmm, drama.” Lydia tilted her head. “Nothing better than tabloids picking at celebrity’s reputations.”

“Actually, this is a credible source, has a printed paper and everything. Checked it.” Malcolm leaned forward. “This guy, this famous magician guy, had some sort of psychotic break when the effects at his latest show went awry. Security had to wrestle him to the ground. And then he went in for a psych eval, and you’ll never guess who did it.” Malcolm highlighted one line of the article.

“No way. No way.” Lydia gaped. “It’s the same dude. Nobody else has that name.”

“Yep.” Malcolm grinned triumphantly.

“…okay, I know it’s literally our job to put the pieces together, but I have no idea what this could mean. They must all know each other, but is that important to the case?”

“Haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Anymore carbon copies?”

“Nah, the next few pages are all from some conspiracy website. Apparently there’s a time traveler from the 1920′s who shows up every time there’s an unsolved murder. Interesting, but complete bullshit.”

“Now now, I thought we were supposed to be open-minded to every option,” Lydia teased.

“Not to time travel!” Malcolm threw his hands up in exasperation. “I mean, yeah, theoretically we could go forward in time, but that requires a shitload of energy that we don’t have right now, and certainly didn’t have in the 1920′s!”

“Alright, I’m just messing with ya,” Lydia laughed.

“I know, I know. It’s working, too.” He scowled, then sighed. “So…should we go talk to the father again? Maybe ask if any of his clone friends were hanging around the wife’s house the day of the kids’ disappearance?”

“Maybe we could head back to the house ourselves,” Lydia suggests. “Ask the neighbors again. I know none of them saw anything, but maybe time has jogged their memories.”

“Yeah…we could try out a few new questions.” Malcolm nodded, looking thoughtful. “And I’d like to find out more about this collection of look-alikes. I get the feeling they have something to do with this whole thing. Come on, let’s go.”

“Now?”

“Do you have anything better to do?”

“…no.”

“Then yes, now.”

As the two detectives gathered up their things, Lydia couldn’t shake the feeling that somebody—or something—was watching them. And she got the impression that the source of that feeling was the computer screen…which was now glitching between the results of the search like it was reading through the information all on its own…



Part Two of the PW Timeline
A JSE Fanfic
[This is part of a complete series I wrote from July 2019 to July of 2022. Though Schneep isn't making much progress, Dr. Laurens is determined to find a way to help, no matter what setback occur.]
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Dr. Laurens hurried through the halls of the hospital, barely staying aware enough to dodge orderlies and patients in her way. She was a bit lost in her own thoughts. When she first took on the Schneeplestein case, she hadn’t expected there to be so many…difficulties. So many…incidents.

She glanced to the side, and was immediately reminded of one of them. Passing the entrance to the hospital cafeteria she could see most other patients inside eating lunch. Normally she’d be taking this time to eat in her office. But last week, Schneep had attempted to stab another patient with a plastic fork. Well, “attempted” wasn’t exactly the correct word, because that implied there was a failure to stab. Luckily, the skin hadn’t actually been broken, so no blood. But the whole thing was still enough to get Schneep banned from the cafeteria. When Laurens asked him about it later, he refused to give an explanation, other than a mumbled “Thought he was someone else.”

If Laurens was being perfectly honest with herself, there were times when she considered dropping the case altogether and handing it over to Dr. Newson, who kept hinting that she’d be happy to take it. After all, did she really want to spend so much time with the guy who 1) killed thirteen people and 2) somehow kept managing to stab people while in a secure hospital? But then she’d remember Dr. Newson’s voice that first day: “Still wanna take this?” Like Laurens couldn’t handle it. Well, Laurens wasn’t one to give up easily. And besides…she just couldn’t leave someone who needed help. And Schneeplestein, as…strange…as he was, was clearly afraid of something. Laurens was sure she could do something about that.

Laurens finally reached her destination: Room 309. There was an orderly waiting outside—Oliver, if she remembered correctly—holding a paper cup. She smiled at him. “You can wait outside, Oliver.” She tried to put a cheerful note in her voice.

He frowned. “Dr. Newson said—”

“If anything bad happens, I’ll shout.” When he didn’t look convinced, she smiled again and said, “Besides, I’m sure you want to keep texting whoever it was.”

The orderly almost dropped the cup in shock. “How did you—”

“You were a little slow putting it away. I know phones are off-limits inside the halls, but don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” She let the statement hang in the air. You could almost hear the “unless” that would follow.

“R-right.” Oliver backed up, handing her the paper cup. “You go on ahead, doc. Don’t forget to shout.”

“I won’t.” Laurens adjusted the items she was holding so she could accommodate the cup, then turned the room’s door handle and stepped inside, closing it behind her.

The inside was identical to all the other bedrooms at the hospital. In the corner was a bed with beige pillows and blankets that were securely tucked in under the mattress. Next to it was a nightstand with a lamp and across the room was a dresser. There were also a pair of armchairs with a small, round table in between them. Overall, Laurens thought it was a nice room to stay in. There was even a window on the far wall, though it lacked the ability to open like windows normally had. Schneep was currently standing at said window, looking out and not turning around when Laurens came in.

“Hello Schneep,” she said, once again putting a happy tone to her words. She walked over to the pair of armchairs, setting her stuff down on the table. Notebook, paper cup, pencil (she hurriedly tucked that behind her ear), and lunchbox. “How are you feeling today?”

Schneep glanced over at her, made a noncommittal noise, then continued looking out the window.

“I see.” She didn’t. “Well, I brought lunch.”

That got his attention. He turned around. “What?”

“Soup,” she explained, pulling a thermos out of the lunchbox. “It’s just potato, but I have crackers too. And, uh, cheese, and some fruit.” She laughed a little. Partly to cover up the sudden jump her nerves made. She wasn’t sure if it was caused by her natural anxiety or genuine worry or fear.

Schneep pushed away from the window and wandered over, sitting in one of the chairs. He watched her silently as she took out the rest of the food from the surprisingly large lunchbox. Then he noticed the open notebook, and tried to lean over to look at it. Laurens quickly pulled it over behind the box. “This is…new,” he said slowly.

“Well.” Laurens shrugged. “I figured that since our sessions usually fall after lunch time, that it would be a good idea to combine them. I mean, I’m not the best cook but I think I’m better than what they bring you.” She chuckled. In truth, the cafeteria food wasn’t that bad, but homemade had to be better.

“So. If I understand this correctly.” Schneep leaned forward onto the table, placing his chin in his hand. “We are going on a lunch date, except instead of chit-chatting, you are trying to analyze me.”

Laurens froze. “We-we-well, uh, ah, you see, I-I didn’t—” She could feel her face heating up.

Schneep smiled. “It is joke, do not worry. I know this is not the place for things like that. Besides, I am married.”

“I thought you were divorced?” Laurens muttered, taking a seat in the other chair.

“Ah, separated, but we still talk.” His smile faded. “We…did, at least.”

Laurens nodded. She pulled the notebook toward her and pushed the food toward Schneep, who stared at it for a moment before slowly reaching toward the thermos and unscrewing the lid. “Do you, um, remember what we were talking about last session?” She asked.

There was a long silence as she waited for Schneep to answer. It was a while, as he seemed more focused on the potato soup than her question. But after a few moments, he mumbled, “I believe you were attacking me about what happened last year on Christmas.”

“I wasn’t attacking you,” Laurens said. “Just asking if you wanted to talk about it.”

“Yes, but I did not—and I still do not!—and you kept asking.” Schneep looked to the side, towards the window. “I was not involved with those videos, I promise you.”

“Alright.” Laurens decided not to mention the fact that he was in several of “those videos.” Last session had been the two of them going in circles, and she felt if she continued to bring up the Christmas incident, then this one would be too. She decided to move on. “I like your hoodie,” she said. “Didn’t take you for the type to wear them.”

“…oh.” Schneep reached up and uncomfortably tugged on the hoodie strings. “Well, it was not mine at first.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No, it belonged to my friend. Jackie. He left it at my apartment one day, then only realized he left it there after he bought a replacement. So he let me keep it.”

“Jackie?” Laurens asked, intrigued. “Do you mean your friend Jack?”

Schneep laughed. “No, Jack and Jackie are different people. Though they would make jokes about that. They already looked similar enough, so they would say they are clones.”

Laurens smiled a bit. “Nice. And these two…they were the only people you considered friends?”

“No, no.” Schneep shook his head. “There was Chase and Marvin, too. It was the five of us, all together. Sometimes I thought we were closer to family.” His expression shifted, becoming a bit grayer. “I…have not seen them in a long time. I-I almost thought—hoped—they would come visit me, but I suppose not.”

“Oh…” Laurens felt an ache in her chest. “Why do you think that is?”

Schneep snorted. “Well, maybe, perhaps, because I—” He stopped short suddenly, stiffening. He turned around and looked behind him.

“Schneep?”

He was silent for a moment, eyes locked on a single spot on the wall. Then: “Shut up.”

Laurens blinked. “Me?”

He turned back around. “No, not you, I—” He sighed, letting his had fall forward into his hands. “Why am I explaining this to you? You think it is in my head.”

“Well…that doesn’t mean it’s not real,” Laurens said slowly. She was pretty sure she heard that in Harry Potter, but damn it, it was applicable to this situation. “Do you want to talk about that, or keep talking about your friends? Why do you think you haven’t seen them in a while?”

Schneep laughed dryly. “It does not matter. It is safer this way.”

“Safer?” Laurens blinked. “Why?”

There was no answer. Schneep didn’t even look up. Laurens shifted uncomfortably, making a few quick notes in her notebook in the hopes he’d say something soon. When he still hadn’t, she cleared her throat. It was worth a guess, wasn’t it? “Are you…afraid you’ll hurt them?”

Schneep looked back up. After a moment of staring at her, he nodded. Slowly.

“Oh.” Laurens didn’t feel that good about guessing correctly. If anything, she felt worse. Not in a way related to herself. But…god, she had the file on Schneep’s case. She was there when he attacked an orderly with a pen, when he’d scratched up another patient’s face. Which meant she remembered how he would start wailing apologies as soon as it was over, how he’d repeat over and over again that he didn’t mean to, that it wasn’t his fault. As bloody as his case file was, he didn’t want this. She set the notebook down. “Look, I…it may sound weird, but I believe in you. You can work through this. And we can help you with that. It’s why we’re here, after all.”

“You cannot help me.” It was less a contradiction, and more a toneless statement of fact.

“Well, we can try. Who knows? Maybe we’ll surprise you.” She tried for a gentle smile. “Hey, the food is getting cold. Are you still hungry?”

After a moment, Schneep straightened and started picking at the food she’d brought.

“Oh! And you need to remember this.” Laurens pushed the paper cup toward him. The pills inside clacked against each other.

“Yes, yes,” Schneep mumbled. He looked over at her and paused. His mouth opened, like he was about to say something. Then he closed it again, shook his head, and resumed.

And even though that night Laurens would look over the notes she took for this session and feel like nothing got done, she would later remember this as one of the better ones.
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What made a “good” session didn’t always depend on her. Of course, there were times when she wouldn’t push enough, and the session would be mostly chatter, or when she would push too much and Schneep would shut down in silent anger. But also…well, she learned quickly that if Schneep was having one of his bad days, they wouldn’t get much done at all.

Like the day he threw the lamp at the window. She came in to find it broken on the floor and Schneep banging and clawing at the glass. He kept attempting to force open the window, repeating “Ich bin gefangen…lass mich raus, lass mich raus!” Occasionally, he would shout “Behalte mich nicht bei ihm!” Laurens didn’t speak German, so she didn’t know what he was saying, but she could tell he was distressed. She spent the entire time attempting to calm him down.

Then there was the day, about a month after the first lunch session, when she finally made good on her promise to call for an orderly if something went wrong.

She could immediately tell this was going to be a difficult day the moment she walked into Room 309. While Schneep would usually be sitting in one of the chairs, waiting for her, today he was sitting on the bed in the corner with his knees drawn up to his chest. His eyes were wide, and there were dark bags under them. Laurens very much doubted that he’d gone to sleep the night before.

She set her lunchbox down on the small round table. Hopefully she’d get to use that today, but possibly not. “Hello Schneep,” she said. “How are you feeling today?”

Schneep didn’t say anything in answer to her usual greeting. His eyes were focused on some point in space in front of him.

“Ah. Well, that’s too bad.” She dragged one of the armchairs over so it was closer to the bed and sat down. She set her notebook on her knees and opened up to the page with today’s date listed at the top. “I brought food. We can get to that later, though, if you’re not up for it yet.” She looked up at him. “Last time we were—”

“I hate this.”

Laurens blinked. “Ex-excuse me?”

“I hate this.” Schneep was pulling on the strings of the hoodie he was wearing. It was the only one he had, the one he said belonged to his friend. “I hate this, I hate this, hate it, hate this—”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘this’,” Laurens said patiently.

“Yes you do. You do not? You do. Please do not lie to me.”

“I’m not lying, I promise.” She gripped the edges of the notebook tightly.

His eyes whipped over toward her, still wide. “Please do not do this.”

“H-how about you tell me what the ‘this’ is, and maybe I’ll understand what you mean,” she suggested.

He looked away again, back towards that spot. “It is still going on. Why? Why does it not end?” He tugged on the hoodie strings again. “It is never over. Not—not going anywhere.”

“What isn’t?” Laurens asked quietly.

“Where are they? I do not know. I-I do not know what he wants from me.” Schneep suddenly grinned, a strangled, manic laugh escaping. His hand shot up and clamped over his mouth, but there was still the muffled sound of giggling. He started rocking back and forth, using his other arm to hug himself.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Laurens leaned forward, putting all the reassurance she could in her voice. “I want to help you, but I can’t if I don’t know everything. Who are ‘they’?”

Schneep looked back over to her. He unfolded a little from his position, though still rocking and still covering his mouth, and tugged on the hood of the hoodie he was wearing.

Lauren’s brows lowered. “Your…friends?” When Schneep nodded, she said, “I-I might be able to find them. They could come visit. Would you like that?” Another nod. Laurens briefly looked down to write a note to herself in her notebook. Schneep had provided a lot of information about them during their sessions, maybe she could do something to track them down. She looked back up. “And…who is the ‘he’?”

A renewed round of muffled laughter. Schneep began shaking his head vigorously, covering his head with the arm not already covering his mouth. He pushed backward into the wall, curling up tight once again.

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to say anything, don’t worry.” Laurens began flipping through her notebook to a single page near the back. This wasn’t the first, or even the second or the third time Schneep had mentioned a mysterious “him.” She wasn’t sure exactly what “he” meant for Schneep, only that he was very, very afraid of “him.” She was sure that if she got him to tell her about “him,” she’d make progress on what was going on inside his mind, and how to help him deal with it.

Laurens took a moment to make a few notes, first about “him” and then about Schneep’s behavior this session. “I wanted to ask you about your medication. You know, the pills? Are they working?” Probably not. She’d probably have to change the prescription soon. “Schneep?” She looked up.

Schneep had seemed to calm down. At first glance. There wasn’t anymore rocking, and his arms weren’t wrapped around his head anymore. But then she saw that was because they were busy wrapping—

“No!” Laurens lunged forward, her notebook toppling to the floor. “Stop that! Please!”

Schneep didn’t listen to her, and when she tried to pull his hands away, he resisted. It was the string. The string that was supposed to be inside the hood, but had apparently been pulled out. It was now tangled around Schneep’s neck, and he was pulling it tighter.

“Schneep! H-Henrik, don’t—” Laurens grabbed his wrists and tried pulling them away, but with the string still tightly held in his hands that was just making it worse. She tried to pry away his fingers, and when that failed, to grab the string around his neck and pull it off. It didn’t work. She wasn’t the strongest person in the first place, and Schneep jerked his head and hands away whenever possible. She was beginning to hear small choking noises.

There was no other option. “Help!” She shouted. “Someone, anyone! We need help in here!”

Like always, an orderly had been waiting outside the door. He barged inside, taking in the scene for only a brief moment before running to Laurens’s side. A struggle later, the hoodie string was safely removed and tucked into the orderly’s pocket while Schneep was half-lying in Laurens’s arms, wheezing slightly.

Laurens looked over to the orderly. “Thanks, Oliver.”

“What happened?”

“I-I don’t know. I just looked down for a minute and he must’ve—it was from his hoodie, he removed it and started—” Laurens shuddered.

“Oh, god,” Oliver muttered disbelievingly. “We should tell Dr. Newson about this.”

“Y-yes, probably a good idea. And can you page for the med team? Just to check for any damage.” While the orderly did that, Laurens looked down at Schneep. “Hey. Stay with me, buddy. I…I hope you know that…I-I’m trying my best.”

There was a dry, hacking sound that Laurens took a moment to recognize as a laugh. Schneep muttered something.

Laurens stared at him. “What did you say…?”

“The med team’s already here,” Oliver suddenly said. “It’s probably a good thing we’re close to the med wing.”

“Oh. Okay…” Laurens was quiet as the others took Schneep away. Was quiet as she picked up her notebook and lunch box and followed them down to the medical wing. Was quiet as they said he should probably stay there for at least a night. Was quiet as she wandered down the halls toward her office.

She’d told him she was trying her best.

He responded, “So did I.”

Laurens wrote this in her notebook. She wasn’t sure why, but…it seemed important.
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“Oh yeah, we had to confiscate that.”

“You what?!”

Laurens stared at Dr. Newson. She’d been called down to her office to give updates on Schneep’s progress, since the strangling incident that week might’ve seemed…counter-productive. She also wondered if maybe Dr. Newson was taking this as a chance to convince her to drop the case. But nothing could’ve prepared her for Dr. Newson casually mentioning…that.

“Well, of course.” Dr. Newson shrugged. Her posture was very relaxed, almost lounging in her office swivel chair on the other side of the desk. “You know the regulations. If we can’t have button-up shirts in the hospital, then I guess we can’t have hoodies either.”

“You…you could’ve just removed the string and let him keep the hoodie itself,” Laurens suggested.

“Hmmmm maybe.” Dr. Newson leaned back. “Or maybe he would’ve found a way to choke himself on that overlarge collar hoodies have. I’m not taking that risk.”

“But Dr. Newson—”

“Who’s in charge of the hospital?”

Laurens looked down, shifting in her chair. She idly looked around Dr. Newson’s desk as a way to distract herself. A bunch of paperwork, a desktop computer, and a framed photograph of Dr. Newson with a man who looked a lot like her.

“Why are you so concerned about this?” Dr. Newson asked. “It’s just a hoodie.”

“It-it’s important to him,” Laurens said meekly.

“Huh,” Dr. Newson stated. Was it just Laurens’s imagination, or was there a new, hard light in Newson’s eyes? “Well, I would think staying alive would be worth more. You can apologize to him if you want.”

Laurens nodded.

Dr. Newson idly ran a hand through her ponytail. “I’m thinking we need to move him to the first floor.”

“What?!” Laurens straightened. “No! We’re not at that point yet!”

“After multiple attempted attacks on staff and patients, shown destructive behavior, and now this? We’re still not at the point, huh?”

“But—but nothing’s succeeded since the pen incident,” Laurens said, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice.

“Alright, fine,” Dr, Newson waved away. “It’s too much red tape anyway. But know I’m considering it. I expect more progress reports from you.”

Laurens felt an acidic wave of words rise in her throat. Progress reports? Like it was as simple as building a new road. The human mind was a lot more complicated than that, and progress wasn’t linear. But of course, she couldn’t yell any of this at her boss, so she kept quiet.

“I’ll be keeping track of any more incidents,” Dr. Newson continued. “If they become excessive, and/or dangerous, and/or more successful, then we’re moving him. Okay?”

“Okay,” Laurens repeated quietly.

“Great.” Dr. Newson straightened up. “You’ve dropped all other patients to focus on this, Rya, don’t fail.” She relaxed again. “You can leave now, if there isn’t anything else.”

Laurens pushed her chair back and stood up. “Goodbye, Dr. Newson. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye.” Dr. Newson waved lazily. As Laurens left, she heard Newson mutter something else. “Dunno why you’re so concerned about this anyway.”

It was a good question. Why was Laurens so concerned with Schneep’s predicament? But a better question was, why wouldn’t she be? She’d seen him lash out at others, true, but she also saw him strangle himself with a hoodie string. She’d read the case file about all the things he’d done to those poor people, but she also heard him admit he was scared he’d hurt his friends.

Dr. Schneeplestein was not fully in control of his own mind. And he knew it. And it terrified him. Maybe it was Laurens’s natural empathy, or maybe it was her training as a psychiatrist that told her to never leave anyone behind, but she wanted to help.

And when she arrived home that night, she logged onto her computer and typed a name into a search bar. Maybe she could help by finding someone he wanted to see.

Or maybe it would be a bad thing to alert these people. After all, he had said he didn’t want to hurt them. But Laurens thought that everyone needed their friends.