THE DEMON SAID: "KILL THE MAN IN WHITE"

SOUND: Believer, Imagine Dragons

Demons, Imagine Dragons

"I'm fired up and tired of the way that things had been...

Don't you tell me what you think that I could be,

I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea..."

Imagine Dragons, Believer

When Set recovered from his astonishment, the Asian man—best described as Shining White Being—had slipped down the corridor and was quietly stepping away. Set turned his head, but before he could catch another glimpse of the stranger, the nurses pushed him into Von Haughman's office.

He stared at the doctor, but couldn't really see him. The coldness pervading the white room, the vision of the black abyss lingering in his eyes made him weak and frail, like a child about to cry. To hide his pathetic condition, he squinted and clenched his teeth.

The doctor broke the silence.

"Good afternoon, Mister Voland. I'm Doctor Wilhelm Von Haughman." He wore a plastic smile and never broke eye contact. "Would you mind answering some of my questions? It won't take long."

Set gave a stiff nod. He didn't have a choice after all.

The doctor showed him a long couch in the corner of the room, just beside the main desk, and Set obediently took a seat. Von Haughman adjusted the chair behind his desk, turning it toward Set's side. He then sat keeping a comfortable, safe distance, a clipboard resting over his legs.

"Do you have any idea as to why you were admitted to this facility?" he asked in a calm voice.

Set's shoulder stiffened, his eyes darting to the exit door. He nodded again.

The doctor smiled. "If any of my questions make you feel uncomfortable, just tell me that you want to skip it for now and we will," he clarified.

His jaw still clenched, Set nodded one more time.

"I'm going to refer to your previous consultation with Doctor Sukhera, is that fine with you?" the doctor inquired tactfully.

Set bit his lip, but his head tilted up and down again.

"I see that you've talked about your hallucinations," Von Haughman restarted. "Could you tell me something more about them?"

"Can we skip this?" Set forced the words out.

"All right, if you don't feel like talking about it, for now, we can move on to the next question," he conceded with another smile. "You've mentioned hearing a voice in your head, can you describe it?"

"It's dark and chilling..." Set shivered at the thought.

"What does the voice say?" the doctor asked, leaning forward.

Kill the man in white, it said.

"It doesn't matter," Set hissed, gritting his teeth.

"Can you hear it now?"

"No."

"You said you couldn't remember much about your family, because—since your symptoms had shown up—your memory had become unclear. Is there any episode of your past you could describe clearly?"

The image of the divine creature came into Set's mind—that was the clearest moment he had in years. His eyes widened. Still, he shook his head.

"And what about your sleep, Mister Voland? Do you have any trouble sleeping?" Von Haughman studied his face again.

"Not really." Set shrugged, holding the man's stare.

Changing his approach, the doctor asked Set to do some calculations, to recall what he had for breakfast and list the names of the last five presidents. As Set replied to the last question, he took a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders. He was happy he managed to keep up with that.

"I commend you for how smoothly you went through the tests." Stretching a fake smile, Vo Haughman leaned back on his chair—his brows slightly furrowed. He took the folder back in his hands, and his fingers tapped the frigid blue plastic behind the sheets. "So, are you willing to tell me why you attacked a dog at the park this morning?" he asked, as he flipped through the meaningless paperwork.

Set noticed something was off with the doctor. His face had turned pale, his breath uneven. He looked like a taut string, worn thin and ready to snap. That definitely wouldn't work in Set's favor.

"He—" Set's throat closed and he gasped in a breath. "Seemed dangerous."

The doctor poured water into a couple of plastic cups and pushed one of them toward the other side of the table.

"And what about the girl, did she seem dangerous to you?" he asked as he crossed his legs the other way round.

Set looked down at his hands, nervously twiddling his fingers.

"Why did you attack her?" the man insisted.

"I was reminded of my brother."

The doctor flipped again through the papers, then he gazed back at him. "According to your statements on your family status, you do not have a brother, Mister Voland," he pointed out in a clear voice. Then, he took a sip of his water and cleared his throat. "If, in fact you do have a brother, can you provide his name and where he can be reached? It might be helpful to contact him."

"I don't know what his name is and I have no idea where he is. In fact, the less I deal with him the better." Set's fingers twisted to the point it became painful. He knew that his words made no sense to others. Cold sweat formed on his forehead and dribbled down his chin, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck. "I mean, he's not really my brother..." he murmured, still unable to look at the man's eyes.

"All right, we will discuss this matter when you are less confused," the Doctor conceded and took a deep breath. "So, then, what can you tell me about Officer Fredericks? What happened with him?"

"Fredericks?"

"While you were writing your apology, you stabbed him in the forearm with a fountain pen."

"I was just defending myself."

"With respect to the report which I have read, I thought Officer Fredericks was only trying to calm you down. Could you explain to me what happened?"

"How was I supposed to calm down? The guy was a mugger! I saw him rob a bank and shoot a couple of people! When he put his hands on me, I had to defend myself," Set blurted out, heat rising to his face.

"As you seem to be uncomfortable, let's change the topic for now." The doctor's voice lowered as he laid the folder over the table and pushed his chair backward.

Set inhaled sharply, trying to settle down.

"Do you have a favorite song?" Von Haughman asked smoothly, but his smile looked even more artificial.

"Demons by Imagine Dragons," Set replied before thinking, "Wait, what does this have to do with—?"

The doctor's calm voice cut him short.

"I'm not sure I know it, can you sing the refrain for me?" he asked.

Set gave him a skeptical look. Still, he sang. "When the days are cold and the cards all fold, and the saints we see, are all made of gold. When the dreams all fail, and the one we hail are the worst of all..." His rough voice turned smooth and low, and the song sounded more like a Sinatra thing. "I wanna hide the truth, I wanna shelter you, but with the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide..." People had sometimes told him he could've been a singer.

https://youtu.be/GFQYaoiIFh8

The doctor rearranged the papers without even watching them. His mouth bent downwards and his right hand moved to massage his left shoulder.

Set frowned. "So, what is it? I heard that other shrink saying schizophrenia."

"Well, while I admit you seem to have issues with anxiety, maybe some sort of dissociative disorder, you don't seem to be afflicted with schizophrenia* as doctor Sukhera suggested. It might be too early to say it with certainty though." His eyes ran over Set, slightly hesitating on his ragged clothes. "Perhaps we should take another interview later. If you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom now." Towards the end, Von Haughman's breath accelerated, twisting his tone.

Pressing his right hand on the table, he leaned over it as if he was about to stand up and leave. His arm gave in to the weight of his body. His elbow hit the plastic cup—making it roll on the wooden desk. Water spilled and gushed all over the papers. The middle-aged doctor fell back on the chair and grabbed some tissues to sop it up. He looked frustrated and exhausted.

"Doctor, I wish it was just anxiety, but there's definitely something messing with my head." The demon hissed at the back of Set mind and before he knew what he was doing, he blurted out, "I'd be quiet if I were you, moving around can kill you now."

The doctor froze and went even paler. He gasped as if trying to say something but was out of breath and then he slowly curled into himself, exposing the black leather seatback. His fingers clenched around the armrests like claws and he panted and coughed hard. He looked like he was choking. His hands clutched his chest, his face wracked with pain, and his body convulsed whilst drool started to drip out of his mouth.

At that moment, Set realized this was his chance to run. It was an asshole thing to do, but freedom called. He stood up, opened the door and smiled at the nurses waiting outside. As they were about to grab him, he pointed his finger at the desk. At the sight of the doctor with his hand stretched for help, the guys in white rushed in.

Followed by the gaze of a couple of other nurses, Set calmly counted his steps through the monochrome corridor, looking like the dutiful kid who is going to sit and wait. However, when he got halfway, he dashed to the exit.

Their yelling pierced his eardrums as he approached the door. The guards—busy greeting a doctor who had just entered—turned around a second too late. Set dodged their arms, dropping to a knee, sliding and taking out the fat one's leg. As they grasped at empty air for him, he slid on the ice-like polished floor and popped through the open door. His lungs filled with the fresh air of freedom, his muscles madly contracting as he sprinted through the open space and jumped into the sidewalk's river of people.

Two blocks later, he decided he could stop running, ducked into an alley, and dropped to the ground. He was muddled and broken and still on meds. The adrenaline that had fueled his run was subsiding, his limbs suddenly felt as if they were made of stone, his eyes burned with the need to close and his mind buzzed like a swarm of bees. Without even realizing it, he fell asleep on the pavement. He plunged into an unusual, peaceful stillness that seemed to make up for all the rest he couldn't get in his life.

_________________

A touch cut through the quiet darkness. It was the warm and pleasant sensation of a gentle stroke on his face

Set was struck by the fear that they had found him, but he had already used up all his energy and his body was so weak he couldn't move a single muscle, apart from lifting his eyelids. At first, his vision was blurry and when the light hit his eyes he saw something shrouded in a shining silvery veil. An exotic and sweet scent filled his nostrils and he was pervaded by a sense of deep peace.

The next moment, he saw the abyss.

Soaked in the full light, the Shining White Being was kneeling over him and in a calm, soft and yet intense way his pale hand was stroking Set's cheek. His eyes were half-closed, the long white eyelashes almost kissing his cheeks and partially hiding the deep dark universes in his irises.

"I can understand why you have been in a bad mood, but be compassionate," he said in a soothing voice. "Doctor Van Haughman had a heart attack."

The doctor's name was enough to give Set the chills and the stranger's attempt to persuade him to be more considerate obviously didn't work.

"That's his problem," he snapped and managed to sit up despite his exhausted muscles, so he could force the other man to keep his distance.

It felt like centuries since the last time someone had touched him without driving him mad and that simple fact was so heart-warming he could cry. Still, he would never show a stranger how pathetic he actually was. He dipped into his own pocket and nervously searched for the cigarettes. He couldn't find them. The police had taken everything he had. He was about to swear when he noticed that the Shining White Being was offering him a brand new pack. Set grabbed it unceremoniously and immediately pulled out a cig. The stranger even took the trouble to light it.

Finally at ease, Set decided to face the mystery he had in front of him. Through the coils of smoke, his gaze seeped deep into the Shining White Being. Set was expecting to feel the usual tension, then the worry and ultimately the rage. He was expecting to see something that would make him nuts again. However, the more he looked the clearer it was that within the stranger there was nothing but white. That emptiness was reflected in Set, making him helpless.

It was an inexplicable and astonishing phenomenon.

For more than a decade, since his disorder had first appeared, Set had experienced outlandish visions about everyone he met. That was the root of his delusions and the reason for his outbursts. However, not even the excitement of the current event could disrupt the peace emanating from the Shining White Being. Set inhaled the smoke with pleasure and slowly blew it out.

"Who are you?" he inquired.

"Sybil Vain," replied the empty stranger.

"Why are you here?"

"I was looking for you."

"What do you want?" asked Set, incapable of taking his eyes off of the other man's.

"To kill you," Sybil Vain answered in his quiet, silvery voice.