The Russian Obsession

It had been a year since I'd last set foot in the Oakwood Mental Asylum. I'd left after a particularly heated argument with one of my patients, a young man named Arseni.

Arseni had been a handful from the start, always pushing boundaries and testing limits. But despite his antics, I'd found myself drawn to him, flirting with him shamelessly during our sessions.

Remembering the first time we met.

It was unprofessional, I knew, but I couldn't help myself. There was something about Arseni's dark eyes and charming smile that made me feel alive.

But our last session had ended in disaster. Arseni had become agitated, shouting at me and storming out of the room. I'd left the asylum that day, feeling shaken and unsure if I'd ever return.

Months later, I'd received a letter from the asylum, informing me that Arseni had been released. I'd felt a pang of surprise and curiosity, wondering what had become of the troubled young man.

And now, a year after our last explosive session, I received an invitation from Arseni himself, asking me to meet him back at the asylum.

I was hesitant at first, unsure if I was ready to face Arseni again. But something about his letter had resonated with me, and I found myself agreeing to meet him.

As I stepped into the asylum's familiar corridors, I felt a sense of nostalgia wash over me. It had been a year, but nothing seemed to have changed.

I made my way to the room where Arseni had asked me to meet him, my heart pounding in my chest. What would he be like now? Had he changed?

I pushed open the door, and Arseni looked up, a smile spreading across his face.

"Simone," he said, his voice low and husky. "It's been a long time."

I smiled back, feeling a sense of trepidation. "Arseni. It's good to see you."

We sat down, catching up on lost time. Arseni told me about his life since leaving the asylum, about the struggles he'd faced and the progress he'd made.

As we talked, I couldn't help but notice the changes in him. He seemed more confident, more self-assured. But there was still something about him that drew me in, something that made me feel alive.

What did he want from me? And why had he invited me back to the asylum?

I leaned back in my chair, my eyes locked on Arseni's. "So, why did you invite me here today?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Arseni's smile grew wider, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I wanted to show you something," he said, his voice low and mysterious.

And with that, he stood up, holding out his hand. "Come with me,