Chapter Text
I suppose I should start my story by defining what I'm actually doing and what my interest in this subject is, which is considered strange and, to some extent, repulsive by a normal person.
I spent the last decade traveling around the country to put together the work that would be, I'm sure, the most groundbreaking and unique in its field. Psychopaths, the delusional, the crazy — what do people know of them? Not much, I will answer. Some take them for regular people with some 'special' issues. Others liken them to animals and root for putting them down. And obviously, for me at least, they are all wrong.
Looking back at each of my previous 'specimens' (and later I will refer to them as such), none of them were fundamentally different from normal citizens. You and they are breathing the same air, eating the same food, and like you, they wake up every morning with hope that it is still not past six. On the outside, one can barely take apart who is who, and that's why you look on the inside. And their inside — soul, mind, the perfect part of man (pick which one you like more) — also have nothing special to it.
Adepts of psychological theories may start fuming at that point. To them, I will say one thing: try talking your way out from a psycho with a shiv who is running at you at full speed. And, of course, I didn't forget about our dear medics, zealots of science, enthusiasts of cutting people up for no reason. You really aren't in the position to say anything either; if you call punching holes in people's brains a breakthrough, then you should try it out on yourself.
Now, when any potential opposition is dealt with, and I'm really sorry that we needed to waste time on them, we can get back to my specimens. I've seen a lot of them, all kinds. And Initially, I wanted to show you their minds — dissected and laid out for study (not literally, of course). But in comparison to the information I got in the last week, they simply aren't worth the ink I would spend.
With that said, let me tell you how I got to study my last specimen.
I've had my eyes on this boy for a long time. I believe that case occured six years ago in the small town of Faraway. You probably have never heard of it (since the start of the Cold War put a taboo on any topics that could compromise our immaculate country of freedom), but it was a huge in the local news. All material sources were promptly hunted down and destroyed, but at the time, yours truly got his hands on the now probably last few pieces of newspaper covering the incident.
Let me give you the summary. On an early summer day, July 15, 195*, a boy and his brother went missing. As their parents stated, their children had no reason to leave the house; in the evening, boys left together, probably for a walk, and never returned. The next day, the parents filed a report with the police. But it wasn't the end — on the next day (the second since the boys disappeared), a girl from a neighboring street went missing (later identified as a close friend of the two). Her mother declined to make any public statements.
For four days, search teams looked for the children, but no results were achieved. Then an anonymous tip came through, stating that a young boy was seen near the houses of the missing prior to the disappearances. An investigation was launched, fourteen-year-old Basil was taken into custody. No evidence was found in or near his house, but his behaviour during the questioning, and later in the court, proved his guilt (I believe the transcript of neither were published). He was facing a life sentence, but at the last moment, his grandma (his legal guardian) pleaded him insane. It worked out, and the sentence was changed in favor of asylum confinement.
You may say that it seems too harsh, and I would agree. Back then, I already had my interest in insane people, so I tried to get time with him. Unfortunately, the harsh regulations of the institution he was placed in didn't allow for a prolonged tete-a-tete conversation, which was necessary to fill in all the data. Let's say I have a quite non-conventional way of getting information out of my specimens (nothing harmful to them, of course).
To say that I was furious is to say nothing. I spent at least two months trying to get that stubborn director to sign my petition, but to no avail.
Moving to a few months prior to the present, could you imagine my genuine joy when I found out that the same institution went bankrupt and closed? I pulled every connection I had, and now I can probably say that not all of them were legal, per se. The patients of the said institution were moved to different ones, and by mere luck, Basil was placed into the care of the association run by my acquaintance. Needless to say, I got on the first train to the place (having previously sent a letter about my visit).