‘Are you sure you want this?’ her colleague asked her. ‘He’s a serial murderer of children, these things come back to haunt you, you know that don’t you?’

  It was a price she was willing to pay. She knew that she was ready to advance her experience as a psychiatrist.

  Her initial session with Shaun Osborne had moved her, revealing the tortured childhood that had been repressed by his mind. There was more to this young man than the simple label of a serial killer. He was a victim as much as those people he had hurt, and she wanted to help him. For the relief of his pain, she was willing to put up with whatever horrific acts he had committed, whether they would haunt her dreams or not.

  ‘Amanda,’ Dr. Stansgate said. ‘I’m worried for your safety with this man. He’s dangerous.’ His slight frame sat behind his desk, his academic voice was almost as frail as his body looked.

  ‘No more dangerous than anyone else I’ve had to treat. I’ve learnt not to prejudge people, Will. That’s what we must do in this line of work. Call me stupidly optimistic, but I look for the good in all my patients. If you can reach that in them, then you can help them.’ Amanda reached into her bag and pulled out a pepper spray. ‘But I do come prepared if things go wrong.’

  Dr. Stansgate laughed. ‘I can’t say that I’m comforted much, but I have always commended your attitude to your patients. You’ll make a great psychiatrist if you don’t lose that. But there’s something I don’t like about Osborne. I just can’t explain it.’

  ‘Gut feeling, huh?’ She placed her bag back down on the floor. ‘Look, if I don’t think I can handle him, I’ll stop treating him. I just know there is good in him, and I’d like to try and bring it out of him.’

  ‘There’s still the issue of the remaining kidnapped kids. The detectives want to know where they are.’ Dr. Stansgate shuffled some of the papers around his desk. ‘Do you think you can reach the real Osborne before it’s too late for them?’

  Amanda sighed with mild frustration. He does this, she thought to herself, attacking my own hope. ‘My responsibility is for Shaun’s mental well-being, I can hardly draw that kind of knowledge out of him in a heartbeat.’

  ‘Like I said, Amanda, this man is dangerous. If those kids are dead because they weren’t found in time, I’m not sure you could forgive yourself for not treating Osborne fast enough.’ Dr. Stansgate dropped his head down and looked at her through the top of his glasses. ‘That’s the kind of danger I’m most worried about.’

  ‘Will, please. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’ Amanda’s frustration was evident in her body language.

  ‘Just… be careful.’ Dr. Stansgate smiled, giving up a fight he knew he couldn’t win.

  Amanda beamed with an attractive, feminine smile of straight white teeth that shone from her rouged lips. ‘You’re a lovely old man, really.’

  ‘Hey, less of the old,’ said Dr. Stansgate, wagging a finger at her.

  Amanda checked her watch and grabbed her bag and jacket. ‘I have to go, I’ve got another hypnosis session to start with Shaun.’

  She had a well-toned figure with long bronzed legs and a face with strong cheek bones and delicate lips. She was beautiful, but she did not abuse her natural gifts as others might have done. She cared too much for other people to be too concerned about her own position in life.

  Bringing Shaun to Warrington Mental Health Centre had already had an effect on him. He seemed brighter, a little more lucid than he had been, trapped within the confines of his cell. Even though he was still surrounded by guards and kept away from the outside world, there was a comforting atmosphere in this place. She hoped that this would further her efforts to reach into him.

  Already, Shaun was waiting for her. From a myriad of seating choices, he had chosen to stretch out on an old sofa that seemed to have been taken from an old woman’s house. She stood behind the door, peering at him through the reinforced glass. He was looking outside the window at the slowly swaying leaves of the trees that surrounded the centre. He seemed a little at peace; his hands no longer twitched with agitation.

  As she entered, Shaun gave her a smile. ‘Hello, Amanda.’ He took his legs off the sofa and sat straight.

  Amanda set her bag down and dragged a desk chair over so that she could sit directly in front of Shaun. She sat down and crossed her legs like two swords.

  Shaun couldn’t help but look at them. The smooth skin excited him a little, igniting a fire that he had been keeping suppressed for the last few days. His eyes crept up her supple form, until he had to look away when he reached her gently breathing chest. Instead, he looked at the wall trying to snuff out the fire.

  ‘I’d like to try hypnosis again, Shaun. I think we’re really getting somewhere. Could you look at me please?’ her voice was sweet, and Shaun could not resist the request.

  ‘I didn’t like that memory from my childhood… I sort of wish that I’d never known that about myself.’ As he spoke, he could barely hold her gaze. Whether it was shame or her beauty that made him look away, he wasn’t sure.

  ‘It’s these early memories which are the building blocks for your condition,’ said Amanda. ‘The mind has intelligent defence mechanisms, but they can also do you harm when they rewire your brain to start relying on them too much. I’d like to try something a little different to bringing back a memory. I’d like you to relax for me.’

  Shaun put his legs back onto the sofa and shuffled down a little so that his head rested comfortably on a cushion.

  ‘Close your eyes and clear your mind of any thoughts, just think of your breathing as you take in a breath and release it.’ Amanda’s voice was hushed and rhythmic, both relaxing Shaun’s body and leading him to clear his mind.

  ‘Behind your eyelids you see nothing, just the emptiness of your mind. I want you to concentrate on this space and tell me what you see.’ She got a notepad out of her bag and clicked a pen into life.

  Purple and red stars slowly spun in the darkness, but they began to fade as his eyes became accustomed to this darkness. As he relaxed, he heard more clearly the ambient noises of life. The gentle whirr of the air conditioning system, the rustle of the trees outside, the passing of traffic, the rise and fall of Amanda’s chest – before he could help it an image of her cleavage slowly rising and falling beneath her shirt flashed into that darkness. With frustration he shook his head and sighed, wiping the thought from his mind.

  ‘Relax, you are doing well, allow the darkness and emptiness to surround you. You are comfortable here, safe from harm and worry. Tell me what you see,’ Amanda reassured him. Her voice was like a feather passing over his body, relaxing but exciting his nerves to follow her instructions explicitly.

  Again, as the swirling stars began to fade again, the darkness came quicker, snuffing out the stars rather than allowing them to gently fade. The sounds of the room faded. Shaun could no longer hear the rustling trees or the traffic. Instead, he heard nothing, as though Amanda had placed earmuffs on him.

  Shaun opened his eyes, expecting to see the ceiling above him, made of grey, generic ceiling tiles. Instead, his eyes opened to the sight of his lap. He sat in a maroon leather armchair, with his arms resting on finely polished oak that had been carved into the silently roaring heads of lions. Shaun remembered having seen this chair before, the last time he had been hypnotised. A boy had been screaming at him, losing his innocence to the torture of his stepfather’s whims.

  The chair was illuminated by a single spot of light. Just beyond it in the enveloping darkness stood a crowd of people. Their forms lacked detail, they were merely silhouettes of individuals of differing heights and builds. He could see that some were children, while others were adults of either sex.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked the darkness.

  Who are we, they replied in a chorus. The sound was unsettling, for their tone lacked emotion, as though it was a helpless reaction. Ceaselessly they faced the armchair, solidly staring at him.

  ‘Where am I?’ Shaun tried again.

  Where are we? replied the chorus.

  ‘Will you listen to me? I want answers!’ he said more aggressively. He thumped a fist onto the oak. The sound crackled like thunder into the darkness.

  Will you listen to us? We want answers. Their response lacked his emotion, but something changed. Their heads turned in every direction. Shaun, they whispered. Shaun. Shaun. Shaun. The sound was almost deafening like an echo bouncing endlessly within a sphere.

  ‘Stop!’ he shouted, leaping from the chair. As he did, the voices ceased. Their heads turned to one of their own, an individual opposite where Shaun stood.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Its silhouette began to fade a little as it formed details and solidified. It took a single dignified step forward, becoming whole within the spotlight. The man was middle-aged, dressed in a cream suit with a midnight blue bow-tie. He held a cream hat to his chest. His face was familiar, acne scars pocked his tanned face and his brown, but greying, hair was combed back.

  ‘Who are you?’ Shaun demanded of this individual.

  ‘My name is Andrew,’ the man replied with a posh English accent. ‘Of course, it is to be expected that you will not know of my identity, for we have never truly met. However, I know a substantial amount about you.’

  Shaun frowned. ‘How could you know so much about me, if we’ve never met.’

  The man who called himself Andrew looked about him at the surrounding crowd. ‘We have been observing you for a long time. We have attempted to do more than be passive bystanders, but it seems our efforts have only worsened our situation.’

  ‘Our situation?’ Shaun asked, now walking around Andrew. The man matched Shaun’s height, and his eyes, too, were brown.

  ‘Yes, our circumstances are intrinsically bound with yours. It would seem that our attempts to sway your own actions have perpetually failed; our communications are difficult when you have command of the Throne,’ Andrew replied, indicating the chair with a point of the hat in his hand.

  ‘Anyone who occupies it,’ he continued, ‘is in control of the physical body. For some time, we would share the responsibility of living out your life on your behalf. However, this task has been returned solely to yourself upon your reawakening.’

  ‘My reawakening, how long was I asleep for?’ Shaun asked, now standing before Andrew once again. Shaun remembered that bliss, that constant silence that had soothed away the pain and worry he had felt for most of his life.

  ‘You have slumbered for six years. Constantly we endeavoured to awaken you, but all our efforts were thwarted by a fashion that was beyond our understanding.’ Andrew accentuated his words with a gentle prod of his hat in Shaun’s direction. ‘Although your reawakening is of a great benison to us, we are vexed by the implications that may yet be revealed.’

  ‘I was asleep for six years? But... how could that happen?’ Shaun walked around the circle, trying to peer at the other faces of those beyond the spotlight, but they remained as silhouettes.

  ‘It was an individual who misused the trust that you had granted to him. He is not one of us, he is from the outside. We lack further knowledge to comprehend fully what he is, but we are most certain that he is far more powerful than any other individual here. It was he who persuaded you to accept his offer of guardianship. It was he,’ Andrew said, his brown eyes fixed upon Shaun, ‘that took control and killed those children.’

  Shaun stopped walking and turned his head to Andrew. Then it was true, his hands had committed those murders. Violation throbbed within in his stomach, a cold sweat pursed his brow. ‘Who - who is he?’

  ‘He is known amongst us as the Faceless Man.’ Andrew settled the hat on his head. ‘Further knowledge we do not have about him.

  ‘I would like you to meet some of the others that are present here,’ Andrew said, changing the tone of their discussion. ‘Many of us have waited a long time to meet you. I hope that you will not deny us this pleasure?’

  Shaun looked around him. ‘But none of them have any faces.’

  ‘It is nothing, simply a way that the mind works I am afraid. Come,’ Andrew encouraged Shaun to him. ‘This is Mary.’

  From the darkness a heavy-set woman stepped forward, her silhouette forming as Andrew’s had into a solid being. She was a good-looking woman in her mid-twenties, even with a few too many pounds on her, yet she was sweet all the same. ‘Hello, Shaun,’ she said politely.

  ‘Mary cares for all of us when we are most in need.’ Andrew smiled to her and gave a little nod. Mary returned it before stepping back again and losing all her details, becoming another of the silhouettes. Next, he indicated one of the child forms.

  ‘This is Daniel,’ Andrew announced once the boy had taken form. ‘He protects us from pain.’ Dried tears marked his cheeks, and a snail trail of snot had dribbled from each of his nostrils. He did not smile and shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. The boy, Shaun realised, was broken. It had been he who had taken away his pain when he had been abused by his stepfather. ‘Thank you, Daniel,’ said Andrew.

  Finally, Andrew brought forward an individual that, again, was the same height as himself, but built far bigger than Shaun. The muscles of his arms, shoulders and chest were taught and powerful. His face, strangely like Andrew’s, was tight with passive authority. ‘This is Roran, he fights the battles that come before us.’

  Roran did not speak, only nodded in Shaun’s direction. He wore white vest and combat trousers. His boots had been shined so brightly that Shaun could see all their reflections in them.

  ‘Roran specialises in gun-fighting and hand-to-hand combat. If he wishes, he can remove handcuffs, produce weapons from a myriad of different objects and overpower most men.’ As Andrew spoke, Roran noticeably tensed with pride. Once Andrew was done, he too stepped back into the darkness.

  How many of you are there?’ Shaun asked.

  ‘At least forty, perhaps sixty. It is difficult to estimate, as many of us are not as entirely whole as others. What is undeniable is the fact that most of us are here for your protection.’ Andrew put a hand on Shaun’s back. He couldn’t hide the slight shudder that ran through him. He had not expected to feel Andrew’s hand on his body, thinking of him as little more than a spectre. ‘Yes,’ said Andrew, ‘we are quite real.’

  ‘Wait, you said most of you,’ said Shaun. ‘What about the rest of them.’

  ‘We endeavour to keep them under control, and quickly subdue any Self who may be detrimental to the majority. I would not worry on this any further.’ Andrew noticeably dropped the conversation and placed his hands on the Throne. ‘I suspect that you have many questions still to ask. I would ask them now, while your time here remains. I am uncertain when it will again be possible for us to communicate.’

  Shaun put his hands in his pockets. ‘What is it that you do?’ he asked.

  Andrew looked away from Shaun. ‘I must apologise, but I cannot-’

  A thunderous roar ripped through the darkness. The silhouettes looked in every direction, some crouching in fright.

  ‘Now is not the time. Quickly, you must return to the Throne. I will take you back to the safety of the outside world.’ Andrew, too, looked into the darkness about them. Another roar, full of a loathing that stung at the very fabric of this place.

  Shaun leapt onto the Throne. ‘If we talk again, I want to know what you do,’ Shaun said through gritted teeth. He couldn’t help but think that this was far too convenient for whatever Andrew was trying to hide.

  With all his force, Andrew spun the Throne. The silhouettes formed a blur until they exploded into purple, red and golden stars that slowly faded into another darkness.

  ...

  Shaun opened his eyes, grey ceiling tiles stared back down at him. Ambient noise returned like an avalanche.

  ‘Shaun?’ asked Amanda. Her sweet voice warmed him, but he quickly thought back to what he had just experienced.

  ‘I... I met the voices,’ said Shaun.

  ‘I heard you talking, but I only got one side of the conversation. Would you like to tell me about your experience?’ Amanda had written pages of notes furiously. She took several quick observations of his reaction to what ever had happened.

  ‘I only met a few of them, but there were so many more standing around us. I couldn’t see their faces, they were like shadows. Andrew said that there were about forty of them... maybe more. I-I don’t understand this?’ Shaun’s hands began to twitch again. Amanda wanted to touch them, soothe them, but she knew that Shaun was still a dangerous individual.

  ‘I think that I may be able to shed some light on this situation.’ Amanda set down her pen and closed her notebook, keeping her page with a single finger. ‘I am sure that you have heard of Schizophrenia. Well, I believe you may have something a little more advanced than that.’ Amanda let out a sympathetic sigh. ‘Dissociative Identity Disorder. It’s more commonly known as Multiple Personality Disorder.’

  ‘Oh God,’ Shaun cried. ‘Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more fucked up.’ He turned around, hiding his face in the sofa’s cushions.

  ‘I’m not giving you a definitive diagnosis here, Shaun. If you do have DID, there are treatments that we can investigate. Some sufferers of DID go on to live normal lives.’ Few, she thought to herself.

  ‘Are they real?’ Shaun asked, his voice muffled.

  ‘Yes, quite real. They are individual personalities that form parts of your own ‘whole’ psyche. Those mechanisms that protected you as a child formed themselves into distinct personalities as you began to rely on them more and more.’ Amanda wished that he would turn round, but she did not want to pressure him. ‘I want to help you,’ she said instead.

  ‘I think-’ Shaun began, but that ferocious roar tore through the room. Amanda was completely oblivious to it, but Shaun screamed in fear. One of the guards outside peered through the window, but Amanda put up a hand to hold him off.

  ‘What’s wrong, Shaun?’ she asked.

  Suddenly, pain sheared through his shoulders. ‘Oh God!’ he screamed into the room. His hands tore themselves into the sofa’s material as he clung on for dear life. The pain was excruciating. He had never felt anything even remotely like it before in his life. As the pain increased with pressure, he was yanked into the darkness within him. He closed his eyes as inertia pulled down on his stomach.

  ...

  When he reopened them, he saw that he was sat in the Throne once again. His hands gripped with all the effort that he could manage. The oak armrests creaked with the effort, but they were far stronger than he could ever be.

  Arching over him, a beast of muscle and malevolence bore into his shoulders with talons like butcher’s knives. Blood gushed from beneath them, running down the young man’s sides. Its dark fur rippled with the effort it took, trying to rip him free from the Throne.

  ‘Give me control, you little dicked shit,’ the beast’s voice tore at him through the darkness. Its eyes burned at him, trying to bore their way into his sole like hot irons.

  ‘No!’ Shaun shouted back, his teeth locked together as he fought to keep his grip. The beast heaved, but again failed to tear him free.

  ‘Think of all I have done for you. Think of all the pain I have stopped. Think of that and yield!’ Another tremendous roar exploded from the beast’s mouth, spitting saliva at him. It pulled, its muscles clearly rippling with the effort. Shaun could only scream as it felt as though the beast would tear him apart.

  With the sound of blades cutting through meat, the beast’s talons retreated from his flesh. It leapt before him, growling as it did so. Its shoulders were squared with anger, and its fangs were bared, drooling with saliva. As Shaun watched, a transformation took place. The fur melted, becoming a black liquid. Its form shrank, until it was the size of a regular man. The liquid formed a black, pinstriped suit and a red tie melted down his shirt. Where there should have been a face, there was only a haze of flesh.

  ‘You have won a simple victory,’ the Faceless Man’s voice still boomed from the darkness. ‘Do not think that you will do it again. I will catch you at your weakest. I will come for you, Shaun, and I’m going to make you butt-fuck that little shrink bitch of yours until she’s dead. You hear me, Shaun!’

  ...

  Beyond the darkness, Amanda cradled Shaun in her arms. A seizure caused his body to thrash. He moaned incoherently and screamed with pain. His lids flickered violently with the speed of a camera’s shutter, the whites of his eyes were only visible beneath them. She could have been thrown clear from him at any moment like a bucking bronco, but the young woman strove to keep her hold on Shaun.

  Suddenly, the seizure stopped. Unaware of the internal struggle that had taken place, Amanda ran a hand through Shaun’s hair. Sweat ran wildly from his skin and soaked his clothes. A guard leapt through the door followed by a nurse.

  The storm had passed, but Amanda was unaware that the Faceless Man had called for her to die. Shaun’s resting face failed to show the massing potential inside.