Asystole ✷ Mark Sloan

ASYSTOLE

My lips pressed together as I swallowed thickly. I maintained steady eye contact, watching as Mr Clark stared at me as if he was trying to see something. He was eyeing me as if he was desperate for something- as if he was searching tirelessly for a reason to do something. I'd studied this, it'd had been one of the case studies that I'd perused fresh out of college: the building of a monster. His crazy eye contact as he eyed me, tried to sear through me, it was him trying to find qualities that made me evil. That made me inhuman.

"Mr Clark." I continued, keeping very careful to keep a very soft but soothing tone, the seriousness melting away as my training kicked in. A very smooth step backwards had his eye twitching, his muscles contracting. "I'm afraid that I don't know what you mean, but I'm sure that I can help you get into a safe comfortable environment- it's not safe out here."

"I didn't plan to shoot those people."

I let in a short breath, fighting to keep a smooth expression on my face. The expression in his eyes- god, it wasn't of guilt. No, it was a rather reluctant look on his face, one that told me that he definitely didn't feel guilty for anything. His hand had been forced. Discreetly, my eyes swept his posture.

He didn't look like a serial killer. He was middle-aged, looked as though he was just another visitor, a patient maybe. His hair was neatly combed, hand nimble as it played with the bottom of his long, trench-coat and his mouth was in a straight line as if he was attempting to swallow a large knot in his throat. But then there were his eyes; they stared at me, cold, empty and filled with something that I'd only ever seen in someone who'd had the guts to murder innocent people.

He didn't look like a serial killer, but some serial killers were like the diamonds that went wrong. Some killers were just the normal people who were put under pressure, the ones who cracked instead of blossoming. They were the ones that bought guns and started shooting at doctors, I took a deep breath, and they were the ones who killed doctors.

"Of course," I said, my voice coming out in a hoarser tone than I would've liked. "Mr Clark, I understand that sometimes good people make mistakes. People don't plan to do many things. I understand."

I had the feeling that he had a motive that was unshakable, one that sunk into his bones. His hooded eyes just looked so burdened, so dark that I could feel a shiver dance down my spine. The non-existent guilt was something that made my skin itch, make my jaw twitch and my legs threaten to tremor with the impulse to turn and run.

He must've noticed that as he sighed, hound-like eyes rising to flicker across my gaze again.

"I-I didn't plan to kill so many people. I just w-wanted to find justice." I didn't move. His arm was withdrawing something slowly from his pocket and I refused to move my eyes away from his. The eye contact was my only chance to keep him calm, to keep him in an easy mind. "They killed Alison, this hospital- you killed Alison."

"Mr Clark," I breathed out slowly, watching as a gun was drawn out of his pocket. The sight of it made me freeze for a few seconds, the man in front of me letting out a choked chuckle as I stumbled over my words. "M-My name is Elizabeth- Dr Elizabeth Montgomery... I work in the Psychology department- On behalf of this hospital... I am so, so sorry for your loss."

I couldn't have sounded more empathetic. I knew what it felt like to lose someone. I just hoped that he didn't find my words condescending. I was usually a good judge of character, the way his hand quaked very slightly as he gripped the gun, I could tell that he wasn't the type to shoot people. He was grieving. He was looking for justice. He was a man who'd cracked under pressure.

But I'd never had to talk down a active shooter. I wasn't a cop or some negotiator out of a movie. I was standing there, with my hands wavering, not sure whether to raise or stay still. I was suddenly overthinking my every movement, wondering if I moved, whether he'd shoot or not.