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    During a lonely night on the abandoned 8th floor, Whitaker is spiraling. He decides to make a phone call.

    ~

    “Whitaker, it's 2 AM.”

    Whitaker let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

    “Why are you calling me?”

    He didn't know how to answer that question. There was no way to answer that question without embarrassing himself.

    Sorry, Dr. Robby. I’m lonely. I miss my family. I'm thinking about all of the patients I’ve lost. I know you've lost hundreds more, and I know this is just part of the job, and I should just get used to it, but my fucking soul hurts. I feel like a failure. I miss my mom. I wish she loved me more than she loves God. Is that a fucked up thing to say?

    Maybe I’m not cut out for this.

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    16 Feb 2026

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