A/N: Another chapter up for you guys. Have fun and enjoy. :)

. . .

Elsa was seated and handcuffed to one of the steel chairs, waiting for another dreary and uneventful therapy session. The door opens forcefully, though Elsa doesn't flinch at the sudden noise. She remains motionless - gazing beyond the colorless walls of the maximum security penitentiary. She expects the woman who comes in here everyday, to diagnose her with ineffective medication and worthless advice. But this time it was a short, elderly man that took the chair across from Elsa.

The man anxiously licked his lips. "Hello, I'm Dr. Sabine Weselton." He stated as he uses the sleeve of his blazer to clean the lenses of his glasses. "I am an adult physiologist, mostly for the patients here at Arendelle Sanitarium."

There's a long pause of silence, before Elsa speaks. "I'm Elsa Folland..." Her voice faint and hoarse.

"Do you remember what you and Dr. Torvik had discussed during yesterday's session?" Sabine folded his hands together, resting them comfortably in his lap. "Was it about the relationship with your parents?"

Elsa drummed her fingers in annoyance on the armrests while her features remained static. Dr. Weaselton or Weselton... whovever this new guy was; he made Elsa want to tear off her own skin. He was becoming increasingly agitating for her. His posture was composed and stoical, but the hidden fear in his blue eyes betrayed him. Elsa had always been good at reading people, they manifest their emotions through their eyes. In every pair of eyes from the countless victims she'd murdered, they would look directly into hers, exposing their desperation for life. It was arousing and intoxicating for her to see the hopelessness in them.

"What of it?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

Sabine fished out a small notepad from his coat pocket. "Were they abusive in anyway toward you?" He questioned - flipping through papers in the notepad until he came to one in particular.

"No." Elsa replied bitterly, her hand gripping onto the arm of the metal chair.

An indistinct smile flourished on Sabine's lips. He'd struck a nerve within Elsa. "It says here on your first day, you told Dr. Torvik that at the age of nine you were diagnosed with schizophrenia and antisocial personality disorder. You again stated that your parents had isolated you from others, because of these psychological disorders. Is this true?"

"No." Her body grew warm with rising anger, burning beneath her skin.

"They died in a horrific car accident on the twenty-first of June. Three years ago." He pushed again - hoping to provoke a flicker of weakness in Elsa. "They wanted to come home early from their trip, to surprise your sister on her birthday. Was this what motivated you to perform in a series of murders. Did you feel neglected and angry?"

Elsa took a deep breath, the poise and self-control façade was withering. "Stop trying to get in my head, it's not going to work." She muttered through gritted teeth.

"Do you believe it was your sister's fault for their tragic death?" His broad eyes were fixated on Elsa.

Sabine didn't expect to gain anything from the platinum blonde. He didn't expect to know any more than the last therapist, when he had come through the door. But he still came. Perhaps it was fascination or complete devotion to solve the scrambled puzzle pieces. To try and continue to learn what he could of her. So he waited patiently, and observed. He could see her mask gradually slipping, as he tore deeper into her concealed wounds.

Elsa always seemed lifeless, cold, and impassive to the other doctors. Not once had she made a sound, not once did she display the slightest bit of emotion. Yet now, something was stirring within her.

"Enough!" Her voice echoed loudly throughout the pasty room.

The aged man watched with curiosity, the way Elsa's icy-blue eyes wandered down to her hands, which were handcuffed on each side of the chair's arms. There was a sudden stiffness in her posture while her left foot jounced anxiously against the tiled floor. Sabine saw it... the small amount of panic that boiled in her. It distinctly intrigued him. However, it wasn't long before she grew still and hollow again.

Sabine cleared his throat before he stood from his seat. "Well, thank you Elsa for your time." He stuffed the tiny notepad inside his blazer's pocket and excused himself from the room - motioning to the guard he was finished.

The police officer unfastened the handcuffs and grasped Elsa's pale arm. She jerked away from his grasp and struck his nose - creating the sound of a sickening crack to bounce off the walls. Immediately, she snatched the ebony pistol that was holstered on his belt as well as his security badge. The guard collapsed on the floor with dark crimson liquid pouring from his nostrils. Tears brimmed his eyes as he stared up at her, his breath gasped in his throat. Elsa pointed the gun's barrel toward his head. She let her finger pull the trigger; soaking the floor underneath him with blood.

The ringing shot alerted the other officers in the institution. Abruptly she crept from the room and down the shadowed hallway. Bypassing the disarray of doctors, police, along with patients who were being ushered into their cells.

Gliding the security card down the systemic lock, the heavily fastened doors opened allowing Elsa to slip through. A gust of wind swept over Elsa's face when she finally made it outside of the sanitarium. She shivered violently at the feel of bitter air rushing over her skin. A roll of thunder roared loudly in the distance. Rain poured from the dark sky - drenching Elsa's platinum hair and light blue jumpsuit. She folded her arms tightly over her chest, as she ambled down the vacant road that led into the city of Arendelle. All she wanted was to see Anna again and she would; even if it meant traveling for miles in the cold and unforgiving storm.