My Boyfriend is A Murderer?

I was deeply concerned. Although Timothy was still young, he had already begun showing symptoms of auditory and visual hallucinations. Without treatment, his condition could worsen.

Timothy's mother clearly couldn't accept that her child, so young, would need to stay in a psychiatric hospital. "What if something happens to him in the ward? Can't you just prescribe some medication for him to take at home? Doctor, please, think of a solution. He still has his high school entrance exams to prepare for!"

"I understand your concerns, but both you and his father have jobs. What if his condition changes and you're not there? Hospitalization is the best option. We are doing this for Timothy's sake." I continued to persuade her.

"No! Absolutely not! If he stays with those crazy people, he'll be driven mad even if he's not already! With the hospitalization record, how will he ever find a job in the future?"

Her voice grew louder. "I think you're just not up to the task! You're just trying to make money off us!"

She stood up angrily, dragging Timothy towards the door. "I knew someone as young as you wouldn't have much experience. If I had known that waiting so long for an appointment would lead me to a young doctor like you, I wouldn't have come!"

I also became anxious. Auditory hallucinations were very dangerous, and given Timothy's state when he entered the consultation room, he might take self-harming actions. If that happened, it would be too late to intervene!

Fortunately, Zack helped me at that crucial moment.

He calmed down Timothy's mother, explaining the safety of hospitalization and assuring her that the hospital would maintain patient confidentiality. I sighed in relief and nodded my thanks to Zack.

Timothy suddenly asked, "Are you in a relationship?" I was stunned, but Zack admitted it. I didn't think much of it at the time.

Timothy completed the admission procedures. For every patient admitted, we would inquire about their condition and write a detailed medical record.

Without his mother present, I could clearly see Timothy relax a lot.

Sitting across from him, I asked carefully, "Timothy, besides what you told me during the day, you said you can hear others talking. Do you remember anything else?"

The boy didn't answer my question but instead gave a strange smile. "Doctor, did you know that your boyfriend is a murderer?"

"Why? Did you hear that?"

Timothy shook his head. "He told me himself. Doctor, you need to be careful."

"He said Zack told him this?" Mr. Livingston suddenly laughed. "Dr. Davenport, I'm asking you questions, not requesting a horror story."

I smiled wryly. "I told you wouldn't believe me. I didn't take Timothy's words seriously at first, but then I noticed several stray cats suddenly went missing from the hospital."

"Cats?"

"First, the orange cat I often fed disappeared, followed by two small white cats," I answered solemnly. "Some patients are asked to do morning exercises every day, and one of them found bloodstains outside the exercise area.

"Mr. Livingston, severely ill patients cannot leave their rooms on their own. If a mild patient is killing cats, it indicates they are good at hiding their symptoms from others. If they are deemed recovered and leave the hospital, you know how serious this could be."

Mr. Livingston looked somewhat surprised.

"This kind of incident at the hospital is concerning. To avoid panic, the director advised me not to make it public or inform others."

Mr. Livingston shrugged. "This is understandable."

I was very concerned about this, so I investigated a little.

The morning exercise started at 7:30 am. Our shift began at 8:00 am, and there were security guards patrolling the hospital on bikes from 10:00 pm to 2:00 am. Afterward, they returned to the security booth.

So I scheduled the investigation between 3 am and 5 am before sunrise. Whenever I was on duty during that time, I'd set an alarm to go for ward rounds and sometimes go out to get some fresh air.

Recalling that night, I shivered uncontrollably and took several deep breaths.

"Relax, Dr. Davenport. Don't be nervous." Mr. Livingston noticed my discomfort and his voice softened. He even went out to get me a glass of water. I forced a smile, took a sip, and my mood steadied a bit.

The hospital was unusually quiet at night. The light from the Red Cross emblem cut through the darkness, and the shadows of trees danced across the road. After completing my rounds, I walked out of the ward building and instantly regretted it. Despite the streetlights dotting every path, their faint glow did little to soothe my discomfort.

As I clutched my phone tightly and walked slowly toward the corner where the stray cats liked to gather, a sudden cat scream pierced the night. The sharp cry was particularly eerie in the dead of night. I was so scared that my knees went weak, and I almost threw my phone away.

Then it occurred to me that the person who had been tormenting the cats might be right ahead!

"Mr. Livingston, you know that some patients are not held responsible for their actions, even if our diagnosis has been very careful. At that time, I didn't dare to take the risk. I feared that if I rushed in, that person might attack me..."

My hands trembled again, and I had to take another sip of water.

"It was too quiet around. I couldn't run, so I locked my phone and crouched in the bushes, trying to stay as silent as possible."

The evening breeze was cool. I clutched my white coat tightly, trying to wrap myself up. The cat screams ahead grew more agonized, and my legs and feet were numb, but I didn't dare to make a sound.

I began to regret why I had come here alone so late at night.

I covered my mouth, afraid of making any noise and drawing that person's attention.

The cat screams gradually faded, and the surroundings returned to quiet.

But I didn't dare to move at all.

I heard rustling sounds ahead. I crouched there, not daring to move and not caring if the ground was dirty or if there were insects, just hoping that the person would leave soon.

"I saw the person's shoes through the gap in the bushes. They were the same ones I had given to Zack."

"Many people might wear shoes of the same style," said Mr. Donovan.

I shook my head. "At first, I told myself that to comfort myself."