Chapter One

"Hello, Dr. Greene."

"Hello, Abram. What would you like to discuss today?"

Abram Waters fixed him with his cold, hard stare. Dr. Henry Greene shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hated the sessions with Abram Waters. In fact, he suspected he might even hate Abram himself. The way Abram stared at him, like he was dissecting him with his eyes. The way they never made any progress during their sessions. Abram would skillfully avoid the questions, and Henry wouldn't even notice he wasn't answering them until it was too late. These things made him dread their sessions together. And although he dismissed the thought as silly, Henry also had the unnerving sense that one day Abram would suddenly leap out of his seat and attack him or something. As it turned out, this thought wasn't so silly after all.

"Doctor," Abram tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. "I believe my mask of sanity is beginning to slip." Henry looked up from the cheap latte he was currently sipping. "Excuse me?" He stuttered.

"My mask of sanity. My façade of control." Abram leaned forward in his seat, displaying an expression of mock curiosity. "Please," Abram cracked a smile that sent hot fear crawling up Henry's legs. "Don't tell me you didn't know I'm a fucking looney."

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand." I Henry attempted looking calm, but it was only a cracked shell of the real emotion.

"Fine, then I'll cut right to the point. You're my shrink, and I've been stringing you along long enough, so I think you have right to know that I've killed a lot of people. I killed my old girlfriend, Ellie, for example. I think you'd like her. I offed some old faggot with a little Chihuahua last week. I shot this one chick with a nail gun. I had to, she was going to get away, and I had to stop her somehow. Shot her right in the face. It was pretty fucking disgusting. Blood everywhere."

He chuckled as if he thought a girl getting shot with a nail gun was a humorous gag on a sitcom. Henry felt the latte slip through his fingers, exploding on the floor. "Ah, shit. I was going to ask for that." Abram said. They were both staring at the cup, the brown puddle surrounding it steadily growing. Abram's eyes flicked back up to Henry. Henry jumped, nearly toppling over in his chair. "You look nervous. Am I making you nervous?"

"Oh fuck," Henry was shaking. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Hey, watch the language, buster." Abram laughed. "In case you're wondering, I haven't killed anyone here. I probably will, but not yet." Henry could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. "Calm down. I'm not going to kill you. Not yet anyway."

Henry was crying now, whimpering and crying, the tears carving wet lines down his face before dropping into his lap. "Oh, God. Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me!"

"Well of course I'm going to have to kill you, dumbass. I just told you I killed a fuck-load of people. Of course I'm going to have to kill you."

Henry felt the panic exploding inside of him, strangling his windpipe. "I'll do anything. Anything." He croaked. Abram rose to his feet. "They all say that." He began to stride over to Henry. Paralyzed with fear, Henry felt something burst inside his mouth. He had bitten open his lip. He could feel the blood trickling down his chin.

"I swear," Henry gasped. "I won't say anything. I swear to God I won't say anything." Abram leaned over, grasping the arms of Henry's chair. Henry's whole chest was heaving, and his breath was coming out in short, strangled gasps. "That may be true," Abram whispered, just loud enough for Henry to hear. "But you always were an annoying little bitch."

Henry's howled and Abram punched him, blood and spit spraying across the room. Abram grasped him and threw him across the room. Henry's head smashed against the wall, and he crumpled. "Too bad your secretary is such a whore, or she would hear all this." Abram crossed the room to where Henry was lying, still screaming. "She wasn't even here when I came in today; probably getting screwed by one of those interns."

He sat on top of Henry, pinning him to the ground. He held Henry's head in his hands, and as he bucked and thrashed, Abram began to press his thumbs into Henry's eyes. Henry was sputtering nonsense, throwing his arms wildly at Abram's face, screaming at the top of his lungs, blood and spittle flying from his mouth. Abram increased the pressure, and he could feel Henry's eyes burst, and his thumbs sunk deep into his skull, puncturing his brain.

Henry stopped yelling, as the signal emitting from his brain was cut short. Henry's body went limp, and Abram relished the sucking sound his thumbs made as he pulled them from the man's mutilated brain.

He stood, dusted himself off, and strode over to the desk, dragging the body with him. Climbing atop the desk, he removed one of the ceiling panels, and, grunting with the effort, stuffed Henry Greene's body into the hole above. He replaced the ceiling panel, and then hopped off the desk and tucked his bloodied hands into his pockets. He knew that the ceiling panel wouldn't conceal Henry for long, but it didn't matter.

He left Dr. Henry Greene's office just as his secretary sat down in her chair, reapplying lipstick she had lost blowing one of the box boys. "How was today's session, Abram?" She asked, showing no sign of interest whatsoever. "Oh, not bad." He replied. "Although I think I might have picked his brain a little this time around."