Dr. Vera Shippman was seeing her fifth patient today, a troubled youth named Foster. The good thing about Foster was that he seemed to get straight to the point; the bad thing was that he tended to be a bit confused and irrational.

      "Hi Foster, how are you feeling today?"
      "You know that feeling you get when you see someone and their throat just sort of pulses a little too much?"
       "Um... I'm sorry, not exactly."
       "Well, it's kind of like when a shark smells blood so it goes for the weakness. I think I've finally managed to suppress this urge."
        "You haven't been able to suppress it in the past?"
         Foster just smiled at her that way he did when he thought someone else was being clever, then the smile turned into that twitch the way it did. She had thought it may have something to do with Foster not wanting people to be smarter than him, but now she was wondering if it was more like he didn't want to get caught.
        "Foster, if we suppress our urges then it only builds up inside and hurts us. If we let all of those homicidal tendencies build up, then who knows how many people you'll kill."
        "It's just, don't you think I've already killed too many people? You should turn me in."
        "I can't do that Foster, that would violate our trust. You do trust me, right Foster? I'm you're doctor after all."
        "I guess, it's just so hard sometimes."
        "I know, and that's ok. It's just a part of the synopsis. You do know what will help the guilt don't you Foster?"
        "Letting my impulses take over?"
        "That's right Foster, and when you do for that brief moment of violence you will be free of guilt. There is no permanent cure, all we can do is accept the temporary fix and hope the urges go away."
         "What is my synopsis doc?"
         "You kill to get rid of the evil in you Foster. See if you can kill three more," the doctor looked back at her clipboard where a picture of a demonic ritual was clipped.

The picture had been taken of a desert rock with a symbol that never quite lined up. The lines would simply cease working near the points where they met. This made the image impossible to make out, but the good doctor thought she saw the boxes. She checked another body off of the list.

Nearly there.

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It's taken me a long time, but I've come to the realization that I dont owe any explainations for any of my stories. However, I keep trying to write in these notes. I think I just want the message to come across as easily as I can, or maybe I just like to get pretentious and philosophize. This first story is short, but there are many takeaways. The one that I will leave you with is that the villain is not always so clear as you might want to believe. Crazy is a blanket term after all.