Ty so much for your kind review, MackNCheeze1008! It really made my day : D

Now, onto the chapter...

*The Man by Taylor Swift playing in the background*

XI

Henry makes sure to ingrain a deep sense of satisfaction for helping a stranger into his… chauffeur's mind long enough for him to drive away none the wiser.

Then, he steps through Pennhurst Mental Hospital's imponent wooden doors.

The director of the facility, Dr. Hatch, is entirely too predictable; an academic through and through, whose understanding of reality begins and ends with the self-evident and who wouldn't be able to see something outside the boundaries of what he deemed possible even if it hit him right in the face.

Henry has his hands full with a big stack of papers which—despite the fact that Hatch gullibly believes it to be bursting with some important academic research—are actually just blank. They haven't been talking for more than a few minutes, and yet Henry already has him wrapped around his finger.

"How refreshing indeed to find amongst the young minds one such as yourself, Mister Ballard!" the old man exclaims. "And here I had already resigned myself to the mediocrity of the new generations! But, well, one can but hope to be proven wrong of such notions, wouldn't you agree?" he concludes with a high-pitched laugh.

Henry, of course, laughs along, as if Hatch's bland remarks were the pinnacle of wit.

"Coming from you, I couldn't think of higher praise, Dr. Hatch," Henry says, coating every word with a thick layer of flattery. "After I found out it was you in charge of such an illustrious institute, I couldn't resist paying it a visit.

"Especially taking into account the subject of my research."

The fish eagerly beelines for the bait: "Oh. And what's the subject in question, young lad? You have got to tell me all about it…! And I shall give you a hand if I can, whatever you need; yes, of course… Maybe you could make use of our extensive library? Or perhaps our archives? Or maybe an interview (ahem!) with a veteran who has dedicated his life to helping those weak of mind that find themselves excluded by our society?"

Henry's smile, as usual, never wavers. "I'd be honored to interview you, Dr. Hatch."

And for a second time, he lets the hook dangling in front of him:

"You see, I find myself profoundly intrigued by the schizophrenic mind. My research specifically gravitates towards patients that suffer… deliriums that harken to either religious or even satanic roots. I wish to delve into the dark recesses of these twisted minds with the purpose of testing new means of preventing such loss of reason from arising in the first place…

"Such research could, in due time, save countless lives."

The doctor's eyes spark as he replies: "Really, my boy? If that's the case, I think I might have the ideal subject for your research…!"

It doesn't take much to convince Dr. Hatch to leave him alone with the inmate. Oh, no, it's almost as if Hatch himself was determined to steer clear of the poor sod.

It is only logical, Henry tells himself as he walks towards the dark, musty cell where his father is kept. After all, one should always be afraid of predators.

He instantly breaks the rule against getting too close to bars in order to take a good look inside.

There, decrepit and blind, sitting in front of a table carved with scratches, he finds his father.

Even though sometimes it is really hard to tell who the real predator is.