For my loves that read the original version, don't assume you know everything, you have no idea what I'm going to change ❤️ someone who was once nice could now be the opposite and vice versa

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Have you ever experienced Mad Love?

It's an extraordinary feeling, that leaves the heart soaring like it's floating above an endless string of clouds. They become all that you know and breathe, and everything you do, you do it for them.

They live at the center of your very soul. And they whisper their sweet desires into your easily persuaded heart, the heart that beats their divine name.

It's the most passionate and consuming love there is, but don't let the enchantment fool you. Mad love can easily corrupt the purest of hearts, especially when it is given to the wickedly deranged.

Your skewed heart and mind will no longer see the darkness in them that is seen by others. The imminent beauty of it all shadows over your perception.

Others will continue to see a vile devil, while you see nothing but a charming angel.

For you, have loved to the point of madness.

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(y/n)'s POV
I found myself standing in front of the tall building known as the Coruscant Mental Institution for the Criminally Insane.

This place had been my dream job ever since I decided to go into this profession. Many people consider me to be the one who's insane for wanting to work in a facility that accommodates the most dangerous individuals known to the public.

But to me, it all makes perfect sense. Why go through the extensive effort I have, only to sit in an office and listen to people's everyday issues, consisting of their unfair bosses and their cheating spouses?

That is what I would consider boring and uninteresting.

But with the criminally insane, I happen to find them fascinating, and anything but boring. Their minds work in ways unlike any other, and I'm here to study them, to see what really makes them tick. To learn the trigger that can make a normal everyday person, fall into a category of animalistic behavior.

Taking a deep breath, I ascended the stone steps toward the grand double doors. "Do you have your badge?" asked the disinterested security guard with brown hair, barely acknowledging my presence.

I returned his gaze with a polite smile. "No actually, today is my first day, so I don't have one yet. My name is (y/n) (y/l/n)." I hoped he had been informed of my arrival and that the head of the institution was expecting me.

He nodded, a flicker of recognition passing over his face. Then, with a snort, he scrutinized me from head to toe, leaving me slightly annoyed at his unwarranted attitude. "Good luck in there, Miss (y/l/n). Just make sure to keep a tight grip on anything sharp." He raised his badge to a keypad, and the door buzzed as a light turned green. Without another word, he swung the door open and gestured for me to go inside.

I nodded politely, feeling a flicker of irritation at his rude demeanor. Still, I refused to let his negativity ruin my day or my mood. I was happy and excited to be here. One asshole isn't going to ruin that for me.

As I stepped into the building for the second time, memories of my interview day flooded back. "Ah, (y/n), right on time," the head of the institution welcomed me with a warm smile as he descended the stairs into the inviting foyer.

The entrance reminded me of a vintage hotel lobby, and it was beautifully decorated in rich dark mahogany, featuring a grand chandelier overhead and flower pots in every corner, and on either side of the staircase. It was obvious they were striving to create a warm atmosphere, despite the place's grim reputation.

"Doctor Kenobi, it's great to see you again," I said, extending my hand with a friendly smile as he reached the bottom of the steps.

He grasped my hand firmly, returning my smile. "And you," he replied, releasing my grip. "Come, let me show you to your office and give you a brief tour of the patients." He gestured for me to follow him up the stairs.

I followed him, the wooden steps creaking softly beneath my feet with each step I took.

"The second floor houses all the psychiatrists' offices, including mine. You'll also find the various rooms for your therapy sessions and the pharmacy," he explained as we walked down a corridor lined with doors. We stopped in front of one at the end of the hall. "This is yours." He opened the door with a gentle push.

I stepped inside, excitement bubbling within me as I took in the black desk with a computer and a black couch on the opposite side. The highlight was the large bookcase filled with books on nearly every psychological condition imaginable. "It's perfect," I exclaimed, my face lighting up with joy. I still couldn't believe this was happening, it was like a dream come true.

Everything I've gone through to get here was slowly starting to feel worth it.

He laughed softly as he closed the door behind us, guiding me away from my office. "I'd love to show you more of this floor, but it might take some time," he said, pausing in front of an elevator. He quickly pressed the 'up' button. "We're heading to the third floor now. That's where the green tier is located." His mention of colored tiers puzzled me, and I frowned slightly.

"Green tier?" I asked as the elevator doors slid open, and he motioned for me to step inside before hitting the button to take us up.

He turned to me, explaining, "Green tier patients are the least aggressive. They might be verbally harsh, but they usually follow the rules." He glanced at the doors as they opened again. "Most of them are elderly and a bit out of touch with reality. They often don't know what's happening around them." He stepped out, and I hurried to keep up with him. We passed several rooms where patients watched us curiously through the glass in their iron doors.

"How many tiers do you have?" I inquired, intrigued.

"Three," he replied, tapping on a door at the end of the hallway. "How are you today, Yoda?" he called out, and I leaned in to peek through the small window, spotting a short man lying on his bed.

"Fuck off, you can," the old man grumbled, making it hard for me to hold back a smile.

Kenobi chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "He's usually friendlier than that; they must have run out of pudding today." With a sigh, he gestured for me to follow him back to the elevator, stopping at a few rooms along the way to share stories about some of the patients.

He continued this pattern with the fourth floor, which he designated as the blue tier. This level housed individuals suffering from various mental health conditions, including bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, and borderline personality disorder. These illnesses often lead to irrational behavior, resulting in actions that the individuals would typically not consider.

For instance, Kenobi shared a case of a patient who had committed arson, tragically killing his entire family and destroying a neighboring house. Remarkably, the patient had little recollection of the event and attributed his actions to his schizophrenia.

Upon reaching the fifth floor, referred to as the red tier, he explained, "This level is home to sociopaths, psychopaths, and others whom I believe have lost their moral compass." He sighed as we entered a corridor that was noticeably more guarded, with a significant increase in security personnel compared to the previous floors, which had only four or five guards. Here, I observed at least a dozen, if not more. "These individuals are violent and ruthless murderers, but unlike those on the blue tier, they are fully aware of their actions; they simply lack concern." He paused in the hallway, casting a serious glance at me, "The issue with these men is their absence of humanity and empathy; they should not be underestimated."

Most people would probably find this situation scary and would quickly leave, which would be the wise thing to do. But I was really intrigued by the men who lived here. Besides, I felt pretty secure since they were all behind a locked door, and there was concrete and armed guards standing between us.

I nodded to indicate that I grasped his warning, "I assure you, I will not underestimate them."

"That's good," he said, reaching into his coat to retrieve a folded file, "Your primary patient is located on this floor." He extended it toward me, and my eyes widened—not out of fear, but rather excitement, though I was confused about being assigned someone so volatile right from the start. "But rest assured, he will be restrained."

I took the file, "Sir, while I appreciate this opportunity, why assign me a red-tier patient so soon?"

He sighed, placing his hands in his coat pockets, "To be perfectly honest with you, it's because no other psychiatrist here is willing to take him on."

"Why is that?" I inquired, flipping open the file to review its contents. The initial lines began to shed light on the situation.

History of violent outbursts leading to significant injuries to both patients and staff.

A clear disregard for human life.

Responsible for the murder of his parents at the age of thirteen.

Firmly believes he is not insane, but rather that his intellect surpasses that of the average person, leading him to feel misunderstood.

"He nearly killed his last psychiatrist," he confessed, and I quickly looked up to determine whether he was joking, but the seriousness in his expression confirmed he was not. "I understand this sounds intimidating, and you can decline if you wish; I can assign you someone else. However, based on your reputation, I believe you are well-suited for this. Plus, he tends to be significantly more manageable with women."

I redirected my attention to the file, and despite this individual leaving me somewhat astonished by what I had just heard and read, it didn't sway me. "May I see him?" I raised my gaze to my supervisor while I closed the file and secured it under my arm.

Kenobi checked the time on the wall clock. "Follow me; he should be in the cafeteria on this floor."

During my tour, I learned that the green and blue tiers share a cafeteria on the third floor, while the red tier has its own facility on the fifth floor, remaining secluded like prisoners awaiting execution. And that's how it is for basically everything else, including their showers and recreation rooms. Though they all share a library, if they're permitted to go there which only happens for those who display good behavior.

He guided me through the hallways, making several turns until he opened a pair of double revolving doors. The cafeteria was not what I had envisioned. The doors I had just exited led to a corridor; to my left was a stark cement wall, and to my right were metal bars monitored by security personnel. Beyond these prison-like barriers, patients were seated at metal tables, either oblivious to our presence or they simply didn't care.

"And which one is he?" I asked as I surveyed the numerous patients engaged in seemingly normal conversations and laughter, as if they were not among the most notorious serial killers in the country.

"The blonde sitting alone," he replied, gesturing toward the farthest table where a man sat by himself. Unlike the others, he was not eating; his tray remained untouched as he rested his elbows on the table, staring at a spork in his hand.

I walked down the corridor beside the metal bars to get a clearer view of him, as he was positioned at the opposite end from where I had been standing.

I halted when I was parallel to him, continuing to observe his actions. He was twirling the spork in his hand until he suddenly froze, fixating his gaze on the table in-front of him. His eyes narrowed at a man sitting on the table, entertaining a small audience with jokes.

"I wouldn't recommend that," I said, sensing the dark thoughts that might be brewing in his mind.

He shot me a sidelong glance, "Recommend what?" he replied in a flat tone, fully turning to meet my gaze. Despite the eight-foot distance between us, I could still catch the glint of his ocean blue eyes illuminated by the overhead fluorescent lights.

I smiled, pleased that my little project had focused on me, "You know exactly what I mean."

He rose from his seat, maintaining his stare, "No, please enlighten me." A smile crept onto his face as he approached, prompting a guard to instruct me to step back, which I complied with.

"You were contemplating using that utensil to harm or possibly kill that man," I said, nodding toward the unsuspecting patient.

He shrugged casually, leaning against the bars as he assessed my figure with a playful smirk. "Close, but not quite. I was just thinking about how even the simplest of things can be used as the most lethal weapons." He raised the spork to his face, directing it toward me with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Care for a little demonstration, sweetheart?"

"That's enough, Anakin. Return to your table," Kenobi interjected, appearing beside me and taking the spork from him. "And you're only supposed to be using spoons."

Anakin shifted his attention to Kenobi, chuckling as he defiantly continued to lean on the bars. "I can do quite a lot with a spoon, you know. Ever heard of gouging?" His grin widened with amusement as I regarded him with a keen, professional interest.

Kenobi let out a heavy sigh. "Don't make me force you to eat with your hands."

Anakin remained unfazed. "I can manage quite well with those too," he replied, casting a playful glance my way. "I would certainly love to demonstrate what these hands are capable of; I have wonderful reviews." He winked at me.

Chuckling and shaking my head, I raised my left hand to display my engagement ring. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm all set." Lowering my hand, I turned to follow Barlowe out of the room. "I'll see you in a few hours for our first session, Mr.Skywalker. I'm your new psychiatrist," I announced as I made my way toward the double doors we had entered through.

Even with my back to Anakin I could sense his gaze on me. A man like him possesses a chilling stare that can send a shiver down your spine, even when his eyes are hidden from view.

"I'm sorry, he can be a bit overwhelming," My boss said as he opened the doors for me. I glanced back to meet those striking blue eyes once again.

"It's fine," I replied, looking away as I continued toward the elevator. "I thought he was rather entertaining."

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