The next day, as Adrian entered his clinic within the mental institution, he thought of checking on Amalia Andrada in her room. He had likely heard about all the patients' life stories except for Amy's, who neither spoke nor seemed willing to talk to anyone.
Amy had her own studio-style room within the institution, which her father paid for, including the services of a nurse dedicated solely to Amy. Adrian knocked on the door and called out, “Amy, Amy.” When there was no answer, he slowly pushed the door open. He peeked in and saw Amy sitting on her bed, biting the tips of her fingers. Her assigned nurse was absent, likely in the Medicine section to get Amy's medication. He approached Amy slowly. “Good morning, Miss Amy,” he greeted.
“Does Daddy really love me?” Amy softly asked. She sou
