It took two fucking years.
After countless conversations and exercises had failed, the psychiatrist finally decided to allow Kyle to touch a hammer.
There hadn't been any incidents ever since Kyle had arrived, and he had even been freed of his straitjacket after some months.
Whenever Kyle thought about how much time had passed, he felt weird.
Two years, and yet, it felt like just a day had passed.
Most of the time, Kyle just created random Sudoku puzzles in his head and solved them. He didn't even know if they were solvable after he made them, but that was part of the fun.
To every onlooker, Kyle looked like someone who just sat in his room, looking at a wall.
Of course, he did that on purpose. He didn't want to damage his chances of getting his hand on a hammer, which was why he had tried to be as quiet and compliant as possible.
The best way was to not do anything. If he didn't do anything, nothing bad would happen.
