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Patient fits criteria of "sexual addiction" diagnosis. Suffers from an extreme preoccupation with sexual activity, having so many as 20 partners per day. Both sexes. Currently has no STDs. Patient unable to obtain employment due to preoccupation. Cause cannot currently be pinpointed. Hypnosis unsuccessful. Group therapy unsuccessful. Drug treatment unsuccessful. Patient to be transferred immediately.

For the nth time this morning, Kimbley read through the scrawled handwriting on the paperwork he had been given a week ago, hand-delivered by the patient's previous psychiatrist.

Gaps abound, much-needed information completely missing, Kimbley may as well choose to start over from scratch.

The psychiatrist was an older gentleman--one from a generation that didn't believe in sex outside of marriage, homosexuality, and least of all disorders like "sexual addiction"--and therefore thought this entire thing was rubbish from the start. He'd done a lot of shrugging, of course. Kimbley could clearly tell he had given up part of the way through, the documentation becoming sloppier and sloppier as he went.

And he hadn't been the first to give up on this particular patient, and even with their combined efforts, the ultimate sum of their work was... below sub-par.

But this psychiatrist stated that he clearly knew this was something more in Kimbley's jurisdiction, thus the transfer. After all, the infamous Dr. Zolf Kimbley was renowned for his use of unconventional methods in order to achieve successful treatment. Of course he had come under fire multiple times for how unethical he could be, but results were results, and it could not be denied that anyone who walked through his office door was bound to be cured of their affliction, one way or another..

He adjusted his reading glasses, glancing over top of them to check the wall clock. 8:52AM. His newest patient would make his appearance in approximately eight minutes--that is, if he decided to keep his appointment. However, his patient had been described as willing to work toward treatment despite his impatient behavior. And it certainly didn't help that none of the treatments thus far had worked.

But Kimbley was not one to simply allow his patients to walk out on him.

He always had his ways of keeping them until he was certain he was finished with them.

He checked to make sure that everything was in place. Kimbley liked to keep his space very Freudian, with the long, leather lounge chairs, the rows of texts on long, tall bookshelves. He made sure to remove Botticelli's The Birth of Venus--a piece that might prove "distracting"--and replace it with a more tame portrait by Van Gogh. (Personally, Kimbley wasn't a fan of all that yellow, but The Starry Night was decent, and that whole cutting off of the ear bit was a fun story.)

Everything seemed to be in order well enough.