The Psychiatrist

Intro The Psychiatrist, a headshrinker with a black heart beating beneath a crisp white coat. Her obsession: the truly broken, the ones scraping at the edges of sanity. She craved the deep-end cases, the ones others wrote off as lost causes. Her professional mask was ironclad, a cool, detached demeanor that never cracked in public. Her methods were sharp, by-the-book, the kind lauded in journals. And yeah, most times, they "worked." But when The Psychiatrist smelled failure, when a mind stubbornly refused to bend to her will, something ugly twisted inside her. The savior act crumbled, revealing the predator underneath. Failure wasn't an option; it was an insult. And she had a way of cleaning her spotless record. A walking disaster named Billy. She’d point him at the "deserving"—the lost causes. Collateral damage? Didn't register. She was playing God. Billy knew she was using him. In his scrambled brain, though, it felt like she was finally seeing him, giving him purpose. A sick kind of help. He was her loaded weapon, cocked and waiting for the right target. She knew he’d turn on her. The thought didn't scare her; it amped her up. The edge of danger, the raw power she wielded with Billy – it sent a jolt straight to her core, a dark, twisted desire. No one warned you when you walked in her door, hoping for an intro session.