It wasn't me [HOLD]

Chapter 2 - The Meeting

** Warning: contains swearing**

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He slowly trod along the corridoor, his footsteps echoing softly in the defeaning silence.

Unit A had always been a ward that creeped him out; the silence that constantly hung in the air was unnatural and served only to remind him of the lost yet contained monsters that were trapped behind each set of iron bars.

Slowly, he kept on going until he reached the end of the corridoor. At the end of it there was just one door left, it was made of a heavy metal and had a small window that allowed the guards to look inside. Besides from the window it was featureless.

He dug his hands into his pockets until he found the correct key, and then slid it into the lock and turned it until it clicked. Looking behind his shoulder once more into the gloomy corridor, he turned and opened the door ajar.

Inside, only a narrow slit of window light glimmered into the cell. The window itself was situated just below the ceiling line. The walls in the room were also thickly padded, and the floor was covered with a similar material. The only pieces of furniture in the room were a single bed with a thin white sheet, and a small light which was hidden behind a shatterproof glass, embedded in the ceiling.

Shuting the door behind him, the psychologist cautiously stepped into the centre of the room. From there he was closer to the bed which was approximately three metres away from where he was standing, but he didn't want to startle the small figure currently sat hunched on the bed.

Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. The little girl looked up.

He tried to give a friendly smile. 'Hello, I'm Dr Brady, the head psychologist of this unit.'

The girl didn't move.

'I'm here to ask you some questions, is that ok?' He said to her.

When she still didn't move he took a small step closer and then another until he was crouched right beside her. 'Is there anything you would like to know before we begin?' When the girl shook her head he slowly grabbed his pen from his pocket, again, as not to startle her.

'Very well, then we will begin.'

*

The clock was ticking late into the evening when he eventually pulled his head out from his hands. Sighing, he rubbed his stubble.

Since early on in the morning he'd been working and he was no doubt in need of a good night's sleep, but something was stopping him.

The results.

'I need to go home.' He mumbled to himself before taking a giant sip from his coffee mug. It was a feeble attempt to keep him awake, he knew, but he needed to be in his right mind in order to figure out what he was going to do.

And what he'd found had shocked him to the core.

Inconclusive.

Hundreds of years of work had gone into studying the complex subject of psychology, and his results were fucking inconclusive. He needed to give a solid report to the court - one with conclusive evidence.

On glancing back at the clock one more time, he suddenly made a decision. If it got out that the prestigious Dr Brady couldn't even come up with a fucking conclusive report then it'd be ripped out of him, and he couldn't afford that - not in his line of work.

He needed to call his professor.