1. Shattered Memories ch4


    Date: 4/16/2018, Categories: Fiction, Straight Sex, Non-Erotic, Teen, Author: Bleargh, Source: sexstories.com

    Smith, husband of a Jane Smith?" He seemed more flustered than amused, so I quickly rectified my attempt at humour. "Sorry Doctor Smith, it's just a... Rather common name, is all." "You're quite right in your assumption that it is an alias. In my line of work, it is imperative to disassociate personal aspects from my patients. Relapses, especially relapses of psychotic breakdowns, can be detrimental to associated practitioners. In the event that one of my patients has a relapse, at least I am safe from them." "Speaking of psychotic breakdowns, you never told me what you diagnosed me with. Also, now that I think about it, I've never met you, but you greeted me with "It's good to see you again". Am I missing something?" "Hmm. You're rather sharp, aren't you, realising the implication of such a small segment of speech. I'll have to watch out for you, Mr. Hill" I groaned internally, realising my mistake. I'd shown my knack for details and he'd picked up on it. I was getting rusty. "Your recall of your arrival here must be damaged. What is the first thing you remember of your time here." "Waking up in my cell. That was the first day." "Actually, it wasn't. That was your fourth day. Your first three days... You were very violent. Very unstable. You alternated between moaning, screaming and whispering a name. Do you know the name?" "Was it Sarah?" "No... It was Marcus Edison. Do you know who that is?" "... No, I've never heard of him. Huh. I guess he must be important somehow." ...
    "Important to what?" "Still working on that one, Doc. I'll let you know when I get something." We had been walking and talking for a few minutes, that I hadn't really notices we'd arrived at the third floor until the orderlies stopped in front of a wooden door. It was well adorned, and slightly ajar. I could smell the slight scent of an artificial fire; the fumes of burning hydrocarbons. Stepping inside, I glanced around and felt my heart drop. Staring back at me, in painted form, was the face that caused me so much torment. A gorgeous portrait of a teenage Sarah stared back at me. "Oh, do you like the painting. It's of my niece. She sent it to me, when she was visiting Paris. It looks the part of a true Victorian era classic." "Yeah, I couldn't tell. Are you related to royalty, Dr. Smith?" "Oh, no. My niece is just a rather classy girl. Speaking of classy, you're possibly my most exotic patient, Mr. Hill." Fuck me... This guy was talking as if I was some sort of specimen. "Oh, yes. I dug up your records from before you were expelled from the army. It claims you have the most combat and noncombat tours of anyone your age, achieving the much venerated rank of gunnery sergeant. I'm in the presence of the army's famed psychopathic streak." I was tempted to shut this guy up then and there. Army's famed psychopathic streak? What the fuck did this little college bred shit know? Then, I reminded myself that his niece was some upper tier assassin. Something called an Echelon field agent. ...