2/11/2016 0 Comments Chapter 1 - The Arrival"I understand this is very difficult for you. You've been through a terrible ordeal, but I need you to start from the beginning. Can you please tell us how you encountered Dean Ambrose? What was your relationship with him? Do you know why he was so obsessed with you?" The detective asked.
I sat there and closed my eyes. I was so tired. My brain just couldn't wrap around what I had just been through. I should have known what to expect from him. He was violent and criminally insane, and I felt I could help him. I was so wrong, and usually, I am never wrong. It was a usual day for me at Cinnicinati Asylum Psychiatric Hospital. As the staff psychiatrist, I am expected to evaluate, diagnose, and treat patients here, but I am also a voice for them as well. I make sure that each patient gets what they need, which is proper treatment and care. Thankfully, I had a great staff who worked hard for every patient. I remember the day of his arrival. He had a psychotic break. He seemed disconnected from reality. His speech was incoherent. He was unresponsive. There was a sadistic look on his face, but I had to get through to him. I had to try. "So what are we dealing with, Charles?" I asked. "His name is Dean Ambrose. He's a professional wrestler with World Wrestling Entertainment. Apparently he's from Cincinnati." Charles said. "I have heard of him. Hometown boy done good. So what brings him here?" I asked. "He was at an event with a Roman Reigns. Apparently, he had some psychotic break, and he almost killed Mr. Reigns. So he was brought here. The judge ordered an evaluation." Charles said. "Well, I guess I should get started." I said walking towards the door of the evaluation room. Dean made me nervous. He was singing some incoherent song and pacing. I sat down in the chair and began the tedious process of getting into his very dangerous mind. "Mr. Ambrose, my name is Dr. Michelle Foster. I'm the chief psychiatrist here. Do you know where you are?" I said. "Why are you in my head? I didn't want to hurt him. Yet, I did. Why are you talking to me? Leave me alone!" Dean said with his back turn towards me. Schizophrenia. Dean was showing signs. I needed to get through to him. "They say that I'm a lunatic. That I need help. They say I'm crazy. They say I'm insane. Yet, I feel just fine!" Dean said. "Mr. Ambrose, do you know where you are?" I asked again. "Do I know where I am? Do you know where you are? Do you know who I am? Because apparently you don't have a fucking clue." Dean said. "I am asking you these questions so I can properly evaluate you." I said. "Evaluate me?" Dean asked before he sat down in the chair across from me. "Yes, this is a psych evaluation." I said. "Let me ask you something, Doc. Do I look crazy to you?" Dean said. "I don't know. I mean, you attacked someone that apparently was your best friend. He almsot died. That's attempted murder. Yet, the judge thinks you have some psychiatric issues that need to be addressed, and luckily for you, Mr. Reigns refuses to press charges. So do I think you're crazy? Only time will tell, Mr. Ambrose." I said. "Well Doc, I am a lunatic. I'm a sadistic guy. I am a sick man, and if I was you, I would be very careful not to upset me. Because I could walk over, snap your neck, and slowly walk out of here. Yet, I won't do that. Why? Because as I sit here, I see you. For a psychiatrist, you're beautiful. You're hot, and I like it. So maybe I'll be a good boy and sit here, answer your questions, and not go crazy." Dean said. I looked at Dean. Something inside of me wanted to walk out of this room, but I needed to do this. "So Doc, what's your first real question?" Dean asked. "What was your childhood like" I asked. "No, no, no. We won't talk about that. You have a real question, and I know what it is." Dean said. "OK, and exactly what is my question?" I asked. "Are you any good with that tongue?" Dean said. "Mr. Ambrose, you are way off base. I'm here to ask you what makes you tick." I said. "Violence. Blood. You tied up while I have my way with you. See, I told you I'm a pretty sick guy. Yet, you don't see it, and you keep calling me by a name I don't know." Dean said. "Your name is Dean Ambrose." I said. "No, my name is Jon Moxley." Dean said. This evaluation had just got interesting.
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AuthorLaKeisha Chestnut and Maggie Riven ArchivesCategories |