My eyes dart over the room, observing the patients and going through each of their everyday routine with them; Christopher ambles out of his room only stopping to talk to one of the many ghosts he sees, Stacey makes it as far as her door before her OCD kicks in forcing her to stop and flick the lightswitch on and off 57 times, but something is off about this morning. My wandering eyes eventually land on a new patient I’ve never seen before. He is sitting by himself staring at the T.V. that hasn’t yet been turned on for the morning. Thinking aloud, I say, “Who’s the new patient?”
Orderly Johnson, my boss, saunters over, “Who, him?” he asks, gesturing to the brunette boy starting at the T.V. I nod my head in agreement. “That’s Jeffrey, I think he’s 18. His mom brought him in last night. Not exactly sure what his story is but he’s been staring at that T.V. ever since he got here. I’m just about to go give him his meds now.”
I look down at the cup in his hand and see it almost overflowing with multi colored pills. “Wow, that’s a lot of meds, what are all those even for?”
“No idea, I just deliver them. I bet it’s in his chart though.”
“Where’s his chart?” I ask.
“It’s back there.” Johnson says, gesturing to the locked file cabinet behind the desk.
I know every orderly has a key to the files so I bat my eyes and say, “is there any way you can get me his file?”
Although Johnson’s eyes soften, he doesn’t budge, “sorry Amy, but I can’t break the rules. Even for you.” He gives me a warm smile and runs his hand along my shoulder as he strolls away.
Damn it. Usually that works on him.

After my unsuccessful attempt to crack Johnson I continue with my morning rounds, checking on each patient in the ward. All the while, keeping a close on Jeffrey. At one point during the day he is furiously scribbling in a notebook. I walk over to him and say, “What do you have there Jeffrey?” When he doesn’t reply, I repeat myself, a little louder this time “What do you have there Jeffrey?”
His head snaps up and he replies, “My therapist says if I don’t write in this journal I’ll never be able to leave this place.”
“I guess it’s always good to have someplace to write your feelings down.” I say while trying to peak over his hand to see what’s written underneath.
Absentmindedly, Jeffrey shifts the journal farther away from my wandering eyes and continues to write. I turn to walk away but as I do my eye catches the page he’s bent over, in big bold letters I see the word ‘blood’ underlined so many times that the paper is indented and ripped. Walking away, I shake my head and smile to myself.
God he is one weird kid.

Jeffrey diary- entry 1 (3 days before)
Don’t expect me to write ‘Dear Diary’ or anything. This journal is simply the product of my mom and therapist getting together to discuss my ‘healing process’. So here goes: I feel  this is a waste of everyone’s time, especially since nobody will actually read this. Just think about it- if my mom hadn’t blown the situation out of proportion, we wouldn’t be blowing stacks of cash to have me write in a book that, in reality, is going straight into the garbage to become ant food as soon as I’m out of here. All I’m saying is the dead squirrel she uncovered in my room wasn’t the worst thing she could’ve found, and frankly I’m glad that’s all  she found. Why she was even in my room is my problem. She knows as well as anyone that I moved into the garage to get away from my her and my dad, but for whatever reason, she still feels the need to check if my room is clean. Basically, this s*** blows and apparently a guy isn’t allowed to explore his interests without winding up checked into a mental hospital.

Nurse Amy-
Punching out for the day, I walk out of the hospital with Jeffrey’s file tucked under my coat. Luckily I was able to convince the orderly working the night shift to unlock the cabinet for me. While I walk to my car I begin leafing through the huge stack of papers. Realizing there is way too much for me to read in one night I know I have to take a little detour on my way home.
As I pull into the parking lot of Joe’s Coffee Shop I feel at home. The shop looks out of place, nestled between two giant apartment buildings, but to me, it belongs there. When I walk through the door, I am greeted with waves and casual hellos from all the regulars. Ducking my head, I attempt to make my way across the shop unnoticed, but I’m stopped in my tracks by Sarah, a girl I met here at the coffee shop a few days after I moved in down the street. The last thing I want to do is have a conversation with a cheery ditz like Sarah, but she’s cornered me in between the sidetable and the couch so there is no escape. Embracing me in a one-sided hug Sarah yells in my ear with her high pitched voice, “Hey Amy! It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”
Plastering on my widest smile, I reply in an equally as chipper voice, “Hi Sarah! I know it’s been a while. Sorry I haven’t come. Things have been so busy with work lately and I just haven’t been able to find the time.” Shifting myself away from her, I attempt to walk away, but she continues to speak.
“I know things have been busy with the move and all. I’m just glad we get the chance to see each other now. How’s the unboxing going?”
I settle down on the armchair of the couch, preparing for a long conversation and reply, “I haven’t unpacked very much yet; I’m still not sure if I’m staying here permanently.”
“Oh no!” Sarah says, “Why aren’t you staying?”
“I don’t know if it’s the new house or the area but things feel off here for me. I guess I just haven’t settled in yet.”
“Aw” Sarah says while giving me yet another hug, “everything it gonna work out eventually. You’ll see.”
“Thanks Sarah. You always know the right things to say. Sorry to cut this short but I have a lot of reading to do for work that I have to get started on.”
“No worries!” Sarah says moving out of the path between me and my table. “I hope things work out so you can stay.”
“Me too.” I say while walking away.
Thank god that’s over. I can’t believe one person can talk THAT much.

I finally settle in at my regular table with my mocha latte in one hand and Jeffrey’s file in the other. Scanning the page, I see the basic patient form information; name, date of birth, address, etc. Towards the middle of the file is when I reach the juicy stuff.

Patient File- Jeffrey (18)
Mental State on Admission- Seemed dazed and confused upon arrival. He was brought in with his mother, Jennifer, who reportedly found a dead squirrel in his room that appeared to be dismembered. She also stated that Jeffrey had been extremely violent with her after she questioned him about a journal she had found in his room- said jornal has not yet been shared with the hospital.
Diagnosis- After many therapy sessions with Dr. Jackson, no diagnosis has been made about Jeffrey’s mental state. Although Dr. Jackson states that he has an “unnatural fascination in blood and death.” A conclusion about Jeffrey’s mental conditions has not yet been reached.
Treatment plan- Without a diagnosis, Jeffrey’s treatment plan suffers slightly but the hospital plans to continue Jeffrey’s sessions with Dr. Jackson and group therapy sessions will eventually be introduced into his schedule so we can observe how he reacts with other people.
Discharge- No date has been set for when Jeffrey will be mentally stable enough to be discharged from the facility but if his treatment plan is successful he should be able to leave in a few months.

My phone buzzes and I look down to see a message from Orderly Johnson:
Patrick: My house after work?

I feel a surge of anger wash through me. I hate myself for getting involved with a coworker but at the time I couldn’t help myself. Patrick was just so charming and handsome that it didn’t feel wrong. Everything has changed though, Patrick has become distant, only texting me when he’s bored or needs sex. I type back,
Amy: Sorry, not tonight. I have to get back to the hospital in an hour.”

I feel Jeffery’s file in my left hand, and a thought crosses my mind. Looking from the text to the file, the idea becomes more realistic.
When I finally finish reading, Joe’s has cleared out and I realize the barista is waiting for me to finish up so she can close and go home. Waving apologetically, I gather my things and head to my car. I see the illuminated blue numbers above the radio and realize it’s already 1:30 AM.
God. I can’t believe I have to be at work again in half an hour. Why did I sign up for the morning shift.

I have nothing better to do, so I head straight to work. The lack of traffic at this time allows me to arrive at the hospital in record time. Even though I’m early for my shift, I still head in to let the nurse working now, leave early. Clocking in, I say to Caroline, “You can go, I had nowhere else to be so I came in early.” Caroline smiles gratefully and rushes to gather her stuff and clock out. Now that I’m alone in the ward I proceed with checking in on all the patients. This is a relatively easy task due to the fact that they are all asleep. Well, almost all of them. When I reach Jeffrey’s room, I see a dim light glowing through the glass. I peek in curiously and see him, feverishly writing in that journal of his. I softly knock on the door and Jeffrey looks up but doesn’t say anything. I walk into his room and settle myself down on the desk chair. “Hi Jeffrey.” I say.
“Hi nurse…”
“Amy” I say. “It’s a little late to be up, don’t you think?” I feel like I caught Jeffrey at the perfect time where his meds have worn off because he seems chattier than earlier.
“I guess but I enjoy the silence.”
“So how’ve you been settling in here?” I ask, “ I know the transition can be tough for some kids.”
Rubbing his neck uncomfortable Jeffrey replies, “It’s a mental hospital, obviously the transition is hard.”
Ignoring the sarcasm, I press on, “I read your file yesterday. You used to write in a different journal, one other than that one.” I motioned toward the blue-covered notebook lying next to him. “Did your old therapist make you do that too?”
Jeffrey’s face darkens, and his tone turns defensive, “Wait, other journal? You saw it?”
The coldness in his voice makes me tense. “No I didn’t get to read any of it. I guess your mom didn’t bring it with her when you got admitted.” Jeffreys face relaxes. “I do know about the squirrel though.” I say, “What was that about?”
“God, not this again. Every single doctor in this place has asked me about that stupid squirrel and I’ve told them all the same thing- my mom just overreacted about that. I don’t know what it was doing in my room, maybe my dog brought it in there but I sure as hell didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Ok Jeffrey calm down and stop lying. I know that’s not the real reason the squirrel was in there so now I want the truth.” I say, my voice hardening. “If you tell me the truth I might be able to get you out of here.”
Jeffrey looks taken aback but then he sighs in defeat and says, “Fine, but I’ll only tell you if you help me.”
“Deal.” I say
Taking a deep breath, Jeffrey says, “Ok so… how much do you know?”
“Everything.” I say, lying, “It was all in your file.”
“Oh s*** ok.” He says, running his hands through his hair, “I mean when we dissected frogs in science class it kinda overtook my mind, it was all I could think about. After a week, I couldn’t take it anymore. I shot a squirrel with my pellet gun and set up a space in the garage. I laid down newspaper and stole my dad’s pocket knife from his office...” I’m studying Jeffreys face as he’s talking and realize he’s enjoying reliving this moment. Realizing I’ve been spacing out I return my attention back to the story, “... and when I went to go wash the blood out of my clothes I guess my mom went into my room and saw the squirrel on my desk. You know the rest though; she freaks, bring me here, now I’m talking to you.”
This story hasn’t fazed me- working in asylums and mental hospitals has given me a lot of experience with types like Jeffrey. “Now that you’ve told your story, let me tell you mine.” I say, a smile spreading on my face, “What would you say if I could get you out of here and get you what you wanted.”
“And what exactly do I want?” Jeffrey asks hesitantly.
“To be able to kill someone and get away with it completely.”
Jeffrey looks taken aback by this statement, although I see a the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, “what do you mean?”
“I mean that you and I could help each other out. I have the ability to tell your therapist how well you’ve been doing, if you do one little thing for me… I want you to kill Orderly Johnson.”
“Wait why Johnson? What’d he do?”

“All you need to know is that what he did is worthy of his death.” Jeffrey doesn't question my statement, so I assume he’s agreed to my proposal. “I don’t know when you want to do this but just make sure it’s soon. Johnson is working today from 10-5.”
Jeffrey seems lost in thought and doesn’t respond. I take this as my cue to leave and as I walk out, I peek around my shoulder and see him, furiously scribbling in his notebook again.
I have no idea when or where Jeffrey is going to kill Johnson but if he follows my instructions it should be sometime today. I’m on edge for the whole day, it’s not normally like this- normally I’m calm cool and collected during the awkward waiting period of the recruitment of the killer and the actually killing.

Jeffrey Diary- entry 10 (first day)
When I first walked into the s*** hole my nose was bombarded with the smell of bleach and cleanliness- slightly unnatural to me since I’m used to smelling the dirty close thrown around my room. Other than the smell I can’t really remember a whole lot from this morning, except this weird nurse who kept looking at me. I don’t know what her deal was but I always felt her eyes on me. At one point today she even tried to talk to me, I assumed she was trying to get to know me, which I made extremely difficult for her in the sense that I ignored her. She just gives me bad vibes.
It’s just us in the ward now. All the patients are asleep again and that’s when I hear it- the scream. It pierces the air and breaks the silence. I smile to myself and start to dial 9-1-1. When the police arrive, they immediately run to the scene. I can’t bear to look at all the blood so I stay with all the other patients and try to keep them all calm. After they’ve taken pictures and removed Johnson’s body from the ward, they question me about what I saw. The tall cop introduces himself as Officer Whitney and cuts right to the chase, “Where were you when Officer Johnson got killed?”
Fake tears rolling down my cheeks, I reply, “For most of the night I was with a patient, Stacey, she has OCD so we were counting all the holes in the ceiling tiles before she went to bed.”
“While you were with Stacey did you hear anything out of the ordinary.”
“No.” I say wiping at my eyes. “I just walked into the orderly’s lounge after we finished counting and the next thing I knew I stepped into something sticky and when I looked down I saw his body.” I start to sob now and the officers give me a few moments to collect myself before firing yet another question.
“Is there any patients that you believe are capable of doing something like this.”
“Well…” I pretend to think about it, “There is this one new patient, Jeffrey, who’s a little odd, he told me about how he killed and dismembered a squirrel and his therapist said that he has a strange obsession with blood and death.”
“Where can we find this Jeffrey kid?”
Pointing down the hall I say, “His room is right down there.”
“Thank you.” The tall officer says to me.
As he’s walking away the shorter women cop asks, “What’s Jeffrey’s full name? I need it for the police report.”
I think I remember it from reading his file.

“Dahmer.” I say. “His name is Jeffrey Dahmer.”