The Silencer. FREDDY

A year later...

Mr. James's office phone went off with a ring! Ring!

He exhaustedly reached for it, as it was the millionth time that day he was picking up phone calls.

He was gazing at a patient's file while bringing the phone closer to his ears with his secretary in thought. She must be alerting him of the arrival of the next patient.

"Sir I just got a call from the security department. They have a new patient who just filed in." Her voice came from the other line.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "And where is that, Jenifer." He asked.

"Uh, he is currently in the hospital, they want you there urgently," Jennifer replied.

"Do you have his file?" He required as he slowly closed the previous file.

"No sir, his details are blank. They said they'll let you know once you are there." She said.

"Is my wife aware?" He asked while getting on his feet.

"She is off to the asylum for a new patient, I guess you're all alone sir."

He sighed. "Hmm. Send the address to my email." He grunted before hanging up.

He went straight for the door as his phone screen lighted up with the address showing.

He made his way down the stairs with hello's and hi's over there and here.

Finally, he made it to the parking lot and drove off, with a piece of classical music filling the silence.

Usually, his car was very noisy either from the kids or his wife.

It was an understatement to say he missed the noise.

He picked up his phone his thumb going to punch his home number he knew by heart.

"Diana, who is on the line?" He heard the sweet voice of his sister from the other line. He imaged her brows furrowed lightly, as she normally does when answering a call.

"Dian is Grant, how are the kids?"

He heard a sigh from her, and imagine her rolling her eyes. "They're okay and perfectly fine. Troublesome but fine. I told you and Brenda not to call so much, she called thirty minutes ago! And now you're calling. Don't forget you both are on a work trip, if you keep worrying this much I'm afraid you'll both be hospitalized for a heart attack." She ranted.

Now it was Grant's turn to roll his eyes. "If they happen to be bad just call me. And tell them, I miss them dearly." He said.

"Sure will, now look at the road, I know you're driving I can hear the music playing." She said.

"Yeah. Bye. Send my kisses to the kids and tell them I love them." He said.

"Yeah, yeah bye! Mother hen." She hung up making him sigh amusingly. She was a woman of character, just maybe too much.

His destination was forced to an end when he had pulled into the parking lot of the huge hospital.

He pulled out his sunglasses, slipping them on. He strode to the building, going to meet the receptionist who greeted him with a warm smile and he returned the gesture.

"Mr. Grant James. Psychologist." He pulled out his documents.

"You're awaited in the waiting room by Mr. Botch Rich." She said the smile never fading off her face.

He nodded politely while grabbing his documents before disappearing into the waiting room.

As he walked in and spotted Botch sitting on the armed chair with a magazine in his grips.

He had met Botch many times before and knew how Botch dealt with patients. His patients weren't just patients, they had one special thing that dragged them to the blacklist of patients. This is. He dealt with paranormal psychology as he would say but Grant hardly believed in all that. Though he was a Christian he didn't take to heart all the supernaturals. They didn't just exist.

"Grant!" Botch roared as he sprang up from his seat with a wide smile Grant knew too well.

He flashed a smile as he shook hands with Botch. "Well well, here we meet again. It's been ages." He said still shaking hands.

"That's fate." Botch chuckled. "How're the kids?" He asked.

"Good. What about Katerina and Mika?" He asked.

"Well Mika is in high school and her teenage kinds of stuff are really getting on Katerina's nerve but we still live through it." He patted Grant on the shoulder as he started walking ahead.

"What about the patient?" Grant requested.

The amusement on Botch's face slowly faded and his expression hardened. "Is a whole different story. I've never met such a case in my career."

"Straight to the point Botch," Grant said with a little bit of annoyance in his tone.

"Well, we have no information about him. He was a victim of a cultist group. Apparently, he was used for adrenochrome harvest." He paused.

"It makes no sense," Grant said.

"It does, Grant. He was tortured and tormented, abused to get the adrenaline pumped into his blood, then it was taken by force, and over and over again they went for it. They performed all sort of rituals on him." Botch narrated.

Grant was slightly annoyed by the trash Botch was speaking of, not until they came to a stop in front of door 200.

"See of yourself." Botch push the door opened and they strode in.

A small body lay under the cover raised to the chin. Long black hair covered his skull resting messily on his shoulders.

"A child?" Grant turned to face Botch surprisingly only earning a nod.

"We do not know his age. When he was found a captain lost his life. It was believed he committed suicide. But witnesses said otherwise. They said the house started shaking and they heard a loud horrifying scream then the door shut down and guess what just before that when the captain was still alive when he had looked into the kid's eyes he went crazy, just like his colleague Sara Ashton, who is now in an asylum, as for the others, they never heard speaking of them." Botch ended.

"Stop with all that Botch. What a story." Grant retorted as he slowly approached the bed going to seat beside the boy who had his back turned on him.

"Beware Grant he hadn't opened his eyes since they found him, since Bob looked into them," Botch warned and Grant only rolled his eyes.

"Hello." He started.

The little body tensed up and Grant flinched softly. All Botch's story was getting in his head, what a childish story.

"Hey, look at me. You must be bored of the dark." He said, he went ahead to rest his hand on the boy's tiny shoulder and a small whimper escaped him.

But Grant never backed down. "Hey. I'm here to help you." He continued.

"Is futile Grant. I called you here in the hope you could do something, but I see I was wrong."

"How many months has he been here?" He asked.

"A year now. He's been laying on this bed and is getting to a year." Botch said.

Grant frowned. "I have something for you. My son used to love it." He said to the child reaching in his coat and pulling out a lollipop. He carefully reached for the boy's cold small hand slipping it in and his fist clench around it.

"He hasn't eaten anything, they're forced to feed him through a pipe. He would be transferred to a rehabilitation center soon."

"He can't be transferred to one of those if what you said was right, he needs more attention. A foster home would be appropriate, that's if he ever gets to react." Grant said while looking and Botch then he turned around to stare at the kid and almost jumped.

He was seated but his eyes were shut and his hair was all over his face.

A smile spread across Grant's lips. Botch just stared in awe.

"My name is Grant James. What's yours?" He asked gently.

"He can't speak." A voice came from the doorway and both men turned around. A lanky guy with black hair stood with his hands in his coat pocket, and a cigar on his lips.

"Baker!" Botch exclaimed gladly.

"Just in time for the kid," Baker replied.

Grant disliked this guy from the first look, he looked too Gothic and black for his liking.

"Baker is a paranormal specialist, he would be able to communicate with the kid better." Botch explained.

Baker walked to the boy crouching down to the bed. He took out an amulet holding it out for the boy who clung to Grant's arm.

"I don't think he appreciates you," Grant said to Baker.

"I don't give a damn." Baker retorted sarcastically causing grant to frown.

"Look at him, Mr. James. He can't speak, you're wasting your time, he doesn't even have a vocal cord. Look at the scar on his throat. It was forcefully ripped so he won't reveal their secrets. I shall communicate with him through telepathy. I know he can do it, he smells dirty." Baker said while looking at the child who had started shaking violently.

"You make no sense! Telepathy my ass! You wanna temper with his mind! You folk from I don't know where." Grant said firmly.

"Grant calm down." Botch placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's talk." He pulled Grant up and they exited the room.

"Grant! You're blowing all up! That kid well can be possessed! Only Baker can tell if he is just mentally ill or worst." Botch said.

"You guys are crazy! The kid is perfectly okay, just traumatized from the abuse." Grant defended.

Botch just stared as they were both annoy by each other, the silence of the hall swallow both their words said earlier and now they were having second thoughts on what should be said when a loud thud erupted from behind the closed door.

They both froze, Grant was the first to make his step, he barged in the room with Botch right behind and they both stood in disbelief...