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his time. He turned and gave the two orderlies at the door a nod and a smile, signifying they were no longer needed. The two men were happy to return to whatever they had been doing previously, which probably involved napping, eating, or playing games on their smartphones.
    Dave stood at the desk of the nursing station, writing the admission orders. Luther approached him from behind and hovered there quietly without saying a word. He stood silently for several minutes, staring at the back of Dave’s head. Dave was unaware of Luther’s presence. He thought Luther was still sitting in the day room where he had left him. Finishing his paperwork, Dave turned and found himself looking directly at Luther’s chest.
    “Oh!” Dave yelped. “Hello, Mr. Crowley. You startled me! ”
    “I was wondering if I could have a cigarette now,” Luther stated. His tone suggested this was more of a demand than a request.
    Dave always dreaded this topic. Despite the well-known health effects of smoking, the use of tobacco was still relatively common in this state - especially among those with mental illness. When you are hearing the voices of aliens and seeing Satan dancing on your bedpost every night, a little lung cancer might not be first on your list of worries. The hospital, however, thought that it should be promoting health for some reason. All smoking had been prohibited on the premises, even for employees. The employees were able to sneak out to the parking lot and smoke in their cars while on break, but the patients did not have that luxury.
    “Sorry about that, Mr. Crowley. The hospital no longer allows smoking. I’d be happy to order you a nicotine pa-aaAAAH!”
    Without warning, Luther wrapped both of his large hands around Dave’s neck and began to squeeze. Dave fell backward and hit the floor, with Luther crouching over him. He tried to yell for help, but all he could muster were a few gurgling sounds. No breath moved in or out. Dave’s head felt like it was about to explode, and he could sense that his eyes were bulging out of their sockets. His life flashed before his eyes, although the flash was disappointingly quick. (His life had apparently not been very exciting up to this point.) He lay on the floor looking upward into the face of the man who was in the process of murdering him. Luther hovered over Dave, leering at him with an expression of pure evil.
    Dave’s vision dimmed, fading into a rapidly shrinking tunnel. From the faint corner of his peripheral vision, he glimpsed the image of a dark figure. The shadow swept toward him, but in this near-death state Dave perceived everything in slow motion. The image grew larger and larger as it approached. It soon loomed over him like an immense storm cloud. Dave relaxed and released his grip on life, as he assumed the Angel of Death had arrived to claim his soul. He shut his eyes and slipped into the darkness.
    By the time Dave regained conscious awareness, he was sitting upright with his back propped against the nursing station desk. He looked around him and just saw a few of his usual patients gawking at him like rubber-neckers at a car accident. He did not immediately see Luther, but it did not take long to figure out where the maniac was located. Dave could hear clamorous shouting from down the hall, in the direction of the restraint room. He staggered to his feet and walked down the corridor toward the source of the commotion.
    The restraint room was a small cell with thick rubberized walls. A heavy metal bed sat in the middle of the room, adorned with several thick leather straps. Dave could barely see the bed because there were almost a dozen people crammed into the tiny room. They were attempting to hold Luther onto the bed so the leather straps could be placed around his ankles and wrists. Luther was spitting and trying to bite his captors. One of the staff members produced a disposable fabric hood that went over Luther’s head.
    When many people think of