The clinic stood on a relatively quiet street, far from the noise of the city.
A tall Victorian building, fenced in iron, with flaking paint and tall, shaded windows that gave it a permanent air of dread.
Eleanor knocked once.
Waited.
The door creaked open, and an aging man in round glasses and a grey suit appeared.
He looked calm—but too calm.
Like someone who had buried too many secrets under a clinical smile.
> "Yes?" he asked softly.
> "Detective Eleanor Crawford," she replied, showing her badge. "I need to speak with you about one of your former patients. David Collins."
A flicker of something passed across his face, but he stepped aside and let her in.
She followed him into his office: wide, cold, lined with shelves of books and neatly framed certificates and photographs.
The doctor gestured for her to sit, then took his place behind the desk.
> "What exactly do you want to know?" he asked.
> "His mental state. Any recent behavior that might explain… his final works. Or why he would take his life."
He hesitated.
> "David was... troubled. Diagnosed with a form of psychosis. He claimed to see things that others couldn't. Things he said followed him, haunted his dreams. But they weren't just hallucinations, Detective. He believed they were real."
Eleanor leaned forward.
> "What do you mean, not just hallucinations?"
The doctor paused, then said:
> "He had a disturbing ability to describe them in detail. Precise, terrifying detail—as if he wasn't imagining them… but remembering."
Eleanor's voice dropped.
> "Did he ever mention any... names? Places?"
> "Yes. He spoke often of something he called The Crimson Eye," the doctor said. "Said it was the center of everything. That all his pain would end there."
Eleanor froze.
Her blood turned to ice.
The Crimson Eye.
She remembered that name.
From her mother's lips.
From the night she died.
> "Was he influenced by anything external?" she asked. "Anything… that could've triggered this?"
The doctor shook his head slowly.
> "If he was… I couldn't find it. He believed what he saw was real. That he wasn't mentally ill. That something deeper was happening—something none of us could understand."