Intense Radical Behaviors Chapter 3.1

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Committing crimes is not a seasonal activity. There are newcomers joining the Lone Isle Prison year round, and dead bodies being s.h.i.+pped away. This is an isolated castle surrounded by water, with no way for the prisoners to escape. s.h.i.+ps may came in from the outside, but no one inside could leave.

When Quincy and Truman brought this new inmate in, it happened to be during yard time. A series of loud whistles rose from the iron cages, as everyone lifted their head and stared at them. Even William, who was standing next to Olay, joined in. "I remember this is a men's prison." He said, "Are they finally gonna give us some benefits?"

The new inmate was not tall, but very slender. He had waist-length golden brown hair that curled down his back like a waterfall, and gleamed with a charming and n.o.ble tint. He was very quiet, to the point of being spiritless, which Olay suspected was probably due to a tranquilizer. From the way he walked and some other traits such as his long hair, one could tell he was likely well-educated and from a relatively wealthy family. But all of these together made him look like a girl.

He paused, looking at the men whistling loudly at him from the yard.

A wave of even louder whistles rose. If it weren't for the iron bars, perhaps the men would have already gone after him. Even though he turned around and showed his face, Olay still found it hard to confirm that he was indeed a man. He had big eyes with long and curled eyelashes, like a Barbie doll. His facial structure was as delicate as if it had been sculpted from crystal. Sweet and pure, it made him appear a bit innocent. All of this demonstrated his good family and genes.

He slowly raised a hand, and Olay noticed that it was exactly pointed at him.

"Doctor Olay Andrews!" He suddenly shouted out, with a voice that was indeed a man's. "I recognize you! See, life is full of coincidences!" He wriggled in an attempt to get away of the nervous cops behind him. "Hey, you'd better come help us. Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds have no idea how to take care of me, there's no doctors that that are qualified……"

"You know him?" William whispered in Olay's ear quietly, looking as if his dream was broken. The pretty newcomer was gazing at Olay pa.s.sionately – based on his years of experience as a cop, such hyper-excited tone and expression could not belong to a normal person. This crazed expression was indescribably inharmonious with his elegant, delicate face.

"My G.o.d, that's Derer Bryan!" Olay's face was a bit pale. "My former patient…… I worked as a doctor in a mental hospital for a period of time……" He walked over reluctantly while explaining – Quincy was gesturing them to come over.

The patient kept yelling out loud gleefully, "This place looks better than the asylum, doctor! At least they use the word LOCK here. It's deprivation of your freedom, you have to stay here because you have done something wrong. This is punishment! But the asylum ties you up and locks you in a tiny room yet calls your "sir", and tells you it's treatment! You have done nothing wrong, and we are doing all this for your wellbeing! h.e.l.l, that's why I like this place!" He screamed and rolled his eyes. His expression had changed rapidly at least thirty times while he was talking. The facial movements were so fast that they seemed to be controlled by a computer – which contorted his pretty face. William no longer doubted that he had mental problems. Normal brains cannot turn thoughts into movements that fast, which meant his brain was in an abnormally hyperexcited state.

"I am very happy to meet you here, doctor. Although you were always rude to me, I know that's my fault. But I am a lunatic, how can a lunatic not go crazy? If we stop being lunatics, how would you doctors feed yourselves?" He said. The shackles were unable to constrain the random movement of his hands and legs. When he put his hands on the iron bars, William noticed that Olay stepped back.

"Is he very dangerous?" He asked, "He is so noisy."

Olay nodded, "Very dangerous. If do not stop him from talking his brain will go out of control. He will be unable to control his body, and gain a strong violent tendency. But since he's here, maybe most of the danger is gone. He is one of the most troublesome patients I have ever encountered."

"That's what the doctor's report says", Truman answered him. "But I am guessing they just wanted to send him to us…… Oh, of course he is violent. Why else would he stab his dad ninety-seven times!" he said, and curled his finger to beckon him. Derer flashed an exceedingly upset expression, "Stop emphasizing the number, it's my shame!"

Truman grabbed his arm by one hand. The skin under his fingers were smooth. "Anyways, it's so nice that we have your former psychologist here, Derer. Please come with us, Olay. We need your help." He said, peered at the long-haired inmate. Even though he had mental problems, he was indeed very beautiful.

"Why did he kill his father!" William said in disbelief.

"It's not strange for a mad man to kill anybody." Quincy said.

"I don't think he's recovered yet. How did the courts allow a patient with mental illness to come here?" Olay complained while leaving.

"Because his crime was unforgivable." Quincy said, and opened the iron gate to let Olay out.

"But he has mental disorders, he can't judge his own actions……" Olay said.

Quincy locked up the door and shook his head, "Even if it's true, it doesn’t make a difference. He made too big of a mess. There are limits to human tolerance."

Derer gave Olay a joyful smile. Even though it had been a long time, he hadn't changed much, except that his hair had grown longer. However, perhaps due to his psychological problems, his eyes were as clear and crazy as in the past, not sophisticated at all. Olay sighed. Due to his occupation, he sympathized with Derer a lot. He's just a poor psychopath.

The group of four walked into the infirmary where Jory was having a cup of coffee. Truman patted Derer's shoulder, "This is Derer, son of the famous and poor Mr.Bryan. You need to take care of him from now on. My guess is that his mental illness is not fully cured yet. Olay was his psychiatrist, so he might be of help."

Jory gave Olay a grateful look, "It's so nice to have your a.s.sistance. I have zero experience as a psychiatrist." he said while Quincy uncuffed Derer, since his slender body made people believe that he was of little threat. Olay didn't approve of that, but he had no say here.

Derer stroked his wrists that had been rubbed red. His wrists were very pale and thin, and his skin was smooth, like a girl's. This speaks of his upper cla.s.s background. It’s hard to imagine he had committed such a cruel murder. He looked around, gazed out of the window to the left and saw his own reflection in the gla.s.s.

A waterfall of golden brown hair, and a face like a porcelain doll… He suddenly screamed and started pulling his long hair hysterically.

"Cut it! Cut it! Shave it off! All of it!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, pulling and tearing his pretty, long hair. The cops were startled by this – after all they were cops, not psychologists.

It was Olay who reacted first. He took a firm hold of Derer's crazily squirming body from behind and pulled his hands away from his hair – mental patients have extraordinary physical strength because they can use it 100%. Olay yelled, "Don’t just stand there. Come help me!"

The cops finally reacted and rushed to pin Derer's body and hands down, in order to stop his self-harm. When they finally controlled him on the sofa, all of them were drenched in cold sweat. The worst thing was that he’s still struggling crazily, with so much force that it felt like he would jump out at any second and explode.

"Doctor, please go find a tranquilizer and give him a shot!" Olay yelled. Jory started to function and hurried to the drug cabinet. Fortunately, this was often needed here, so he wasted no time finding it.

Quincy noticed that there was a huge pile of hair that he just pulled out in both of his slender hands. He s.h.i.+vered. "d.a.m.n it, he's not recovered at all! This is not an asylum!" He cursed. Derer was still screaming crazily and trying to escape, "d.a.m.n it, d.a.m.n it, cut it off! Don't let his dirty things stay on my body!"

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