Page 3 of Til Def
I nod confidently before answering. “Yes, I’m well aware. I’ve done extensive research into Sacred Heights’ history.”
“Good,” he replies, nodding sharply. “I believe it’s only fair that you start on the ground floor and work your way up in due time.”
I furrow my brows slightly, uncertainty crossing my mind at the mention of ‘working my way up.’ He notices and leans forward, his voice taking on a gentler, reassuring tone.
“Please, forgive me. You’re unfamiliar with our internal method here.”
He gestures toward the ceiling, then downwards, as if mapping out the entire facility in the air. “There are floors here. The patients on the lowest floor are those soon to be released. They’ve made incredible progress and are preparing to re-enter society.”
I nod slowly, listening intently as he carries on. “Those in the middle,” he says, his expression darkening just a touch, “are showing growth, but they’re not quite there yet. They need more time. More therapy. More medication.”
His gaze sharpens as he explains the top level. “And, of course, the highest floor is where our most severely mentally ill patients reside. They’re the ones who require the most attention, the most care. The more progress they make, the lower we bringthem down. It’s a step-by-step process until they’re ready to face the world as reformed individuals.”
A small smile forms on my lips as I process what he’s saying. “I think you have a fantastic system here, Dr Moss. It shows patience... the lower they descend from their darkness, the closer they get to walking through the door into the light.”
Dr Moss’s face brightens with a large smile, clearly pleased with my understanding and he points at me. “That’s exactly right, Raven. You’ve got it.”
His approval fills me with a sense of satisfaction, but also a deeper realization of the gravity of the work I’m about to take on here. I watch Dr Moss’s every move as he stands and walks toward a tall, metal file cabinet in the corner of the room. His demeanor shifts slightly, becoming more focused and professional.
“I have a patient I’d like you to work with today,” he suggests, pulling out a manila folder from one of the drawers. “His name is Ty, and he’s convicted of double-homicide.”
His words settle between us as he turns back around, the file clasped firmly in his hands as he sits down opposite me again. I adjust in my seat, putting on my serious face as I prepare to dive into whatever this file has hidden inside.
“He’s been here for many years,” Dr Moss continues, his words steady, “and he’s set to be released in just a few days.”
He reaches over the desk, offering me the file and I lean forward, accepting it with a nod before settling back into my chair, my fingers hesitating on the folder’s edges.
“Take a look,” he encourages, watching me intently. “Tell me what you think.”
I briefly meet his eyes before lowering my gaze to the file. Slowly, I open it, the papers inside slightly worn from years of handling.
The first page reveals the basics. “Ty Easton,” I murmur faintly to myself, “twenty-eight years old.”
Ty was only thirteen years old when he committed the heartless act that would outline the course of his entire life—murdering both of his parents in cold blood with an axe. The brutality of the crime shocked not only his community but the entire region. Given his age and the horrific nature of the incident, there were countless questions surrounding his mental state.
When his trial began, it became clear that this was not a case for a typical juvenile court. Ty was ruled legally insane, his mind fractured in ways that no one fully understood at the time. Rather than sending him to prison, the court ordered him to be transferred to Sacred Heights Asylum, where he would remain indefinitely until he was deemed sane enough to face the outside world again.
And now, after fifteen years inside these walls, Ty has been declared sane. There are pages and pages of psychiatric evaluations in front of me, detailing his progress, his therapy sessions, and the various medications he’s been on, also a bold diagnosis of psychopathy.
“He has a diagnosis of psychopathy?” I ask, lifting my eyes to meet Dr Moss’s gaze, trying to piece together the fragments of Ty’s past.
“Yes,” Dr Moss replies. “He was initially diagnosed with conduct disorder when he was fourteen, which later changed to psychopathy on a mid-scale when he was eighteen. The details are in the file, but long story short, in his younger years and stillnow, he exhibits a complete lack of remorse or empathy—toward anything living or even dead, amongst many other traits.”
I nod slightly. “And you normally house children?” I question, feeling a small unease at the thought of young kids spending their growing years here.
He shrugs his shoulders and slowly shakes his head. “There have been a few over the years,” he says, his tone calm, as if discussing a mere statistic, “but no more than ten, roughly.”
Returning my attention back to the file in front of me, it seems Ty's progress is impressive—almost too impressive, given his history. Thorough medication, relentless therapy sessions, and, apparently, an incredible commitment to follow the program have all contributed to his current state. Last month, the doctors from Sacred Heights even presented evidence of his sanity to the parole board, and the judge agreed to his release on conditions.
Still, something nags at me as I skim through the detailed reports. The assessments, the psychological breakthroughs—it’s all there, but there’s a gaping hole in the narrative.
Why did he do it?
“Was there ever a reason as to why he killed his parents?” I query, glancing up at Dr Moss again, hoping for some scrap of understanding.
He gives a small shake of his head, his expression unreadable. “No,” he replies. “He’s always said he doesn’t remember the incident. Claims it was a total blackout.”
I sigh and lean back in my chair, closing the file in front of me with a soft thud.A blackout.It seems too convenient, but then again, how much can we really know about the inner thoughts of a killer’s mind? Maybe I’m just skeptical as it’s my first day. Let’s see what I think when I meet him.
