Two years later 

Saint Mary’s asylum was the state's last operating asylum, too entrenched in tradition to try and fix their patients; it mainly focused on containing them to the asylum, so they do not become trouble for society. Still to maintain the facade that it can help, few people were hired to try to cure these patients and appease the state.

The glass walls of Dr. Valerie’s office in Saint Mary’s asylum gleamed with a sharp morning sun, throwing stripes of light across her desk.

 In front of her sat a boy in his late teens, hands folded across his torso, with no expression visible on his stoic face.

He was of average height, blond hair curling at its end and brown eyes that seemed capable of seeing through anyone. His skin was unnaturally pale, mainly the result of staying indoors for too long, but he looked well put together in a place like this all things considered.

“Good evening, I am Valerie McLaren, your newly assigned psychiatrist,” Valerie said, lips curling in a gentle smile, warmth radiating from her as she sat in her beige dress with a white coat in front of him.

The boy did not look up. His eyes were down cast to the floor, seeing no reply from him. Valerie picked up his file in front of her, not losing the smile even for a second.

“I read that you don’t like to interact much, is there any special reason about it”

“I don’t wan'na talk,” he murmured. Valerie knew from her colleagues, who had warned her before being assigned to this case, that this boy was tough. He hadn’t talked to any other psychiatrist assigned previously, except the head psychiatrist.

She wanted to at least try. This was her first major case, and her bad habit of trying to prove people wrong was kicking in.

“It's fine if you don’t want to say anything about it, but then we’ll have to talk about something else, so tell me something about yourself. What was your childhood like, Roman?” Valerie asked, giving Roman a friendly grin. He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat, visibly uncomfortable.

“Pretty good, actually everything was normal... everything.”        

From the start of this session, not once had Roman looked towards her, his eyes always on his shoes or furniture even while answering. Valerie lifted an eyebrow. “Normal?... To me, it feels like you are evading my question... Why is that?” Valerie said, as her questioning tone bled into her speech.

Roman replied, looking up from the furniture. “Because I see no point in this conversation. Why don’t you just directly ask me the question you are here for like everyone else? You are wasting your time and mine.” His dark eyes finally snapping to her, jaw clenched, Valerie could see his forehead creasing in lines.

“Really!! I didn’t know you were this eager to go back to your cell or the ward. Besides, you don’t have any friends in the asylum that you hang out with. So, pray tell what time I am wasting.... huh, did I waste your brooding time? Where you sit and just stare at the wall.” That shut him up for a second. She raised an eyebrow in challenge and made it necessary for him to give a retort.

“You know I quite like that activity. You should try, it helps in thinking about the meaning of life.... you may need it,” Roman said, still in a low voice but a challenge, evident in his brown irises.

“Fine, I get it you don’t want to talk about your childhood,” she raised her hands in surrender.

“I truly do. What about your life philosophy then? That should be interesting.... considering your situation. Because apparently, I can’t let you go until we finish our session.” Valerie said, leaning back in her chair, closing his file in front of her.

“Do I have to?” Roman replied, rolling his eyes, but she could see exhaustion in how he held himself, so she continued, “You don’t have to, but then we will both be bored sitting here. So ...first question: what kind of person do you think you are, good or bad?” The room went dead silent for a while.

 “Good and bad depend on the perspective of a person.” Roman replied in a low voice, almost a whisper to himself. Valerie was confused by Roman Whitaker.

How can a person declared mentally challenged live in this asylum for two years and still be capable of having such a thinking process, to still be able to maintain his sanity?

“Please explain,” she said, leaning forward in her chair, very interested in hearing his reasoning. Meanwhile, Roman just sighed at the enthusiastic lady in front of him. He was just done with this whole charade. “You are kind of stupid for a doctor.”

“The whole good people and bad people are nonsense created by the privileged, who could afford it. Take this as an example: a man steals to fill the stomach of his family. He is a good man in the eyes of his family and bad in the eyes of other people who can judge him while sitting in the comfort of their homes. If a policeman catches the thief, he is a good man even if he is corrupt. He, too, is judged by the very same people who judged the thief. So, there are no good or bad people, just… Survivors”

There was something in his eyes that flashed before Valerie could catch it. Something that couldn't be defined, like it was waiting to unravel itself, but he buried it all behind his stoic mask before she could figure out what exactly he was feeling.

Valerie was intrigued with the intensity in Roman's eyes, so she questioned, “What about you? Are you a survivor or someone privileged enough to judge?” Roman ignored her, turning his face away back towards his shoes.

“What? No answer,” Valerie said, with a small laugh to lighten the mood; Roman ignored her words again. Turning towards the clock, he tauntingly added, “Oh! Will you look at the time? I think our session is over.” He slid his chair to get up from his seat and exited the room.

Leaving her flabbergasted and shocked. This was her first session with him. Now she was waiting to solve the puzzle that was Roman Whitaker.