"I take it you don't want it to eat you, then. That's good."

"Of course I don't want it to eat me! Unlike them, I'm not an idiot. And I've got a family to provide for. Alright, it'd be a more interesting way to go than getting knifed by some subhuman methhead behind a dumpster, but I'd much rather die in my bed at a hundred and seven."

Sympathetic nodding. 

"Have you written anything down about your experience? Keeping a journal, that sort of thing?"

"Not a journal, no, but I've been writing a sort of manual. For newer officers, you know. What cultists do, how they think, how to hunt them down. I think it'll help. I've been on the force for ten years, you know, and I've learned a lot. I know more about cultists than just about any other cop in this town."

"That sounds like a very useful document. I'd love to see it."

"Sure. I've got it on my phone, I'll send it to you. . . . Hang on, it's over the attachment limit . . . there, I sent you a link."

"Thank you. I'll take a look at it after we're done here. Is there anything else you'd like to talk about?"

"Nah. So tell me, doctor: do I seem crazy to you?"

"I don't think you're crazy. I think you had a very unusual, very stressful experience, and you're working hard to deal with it in the ways that make sense to you. It's too soon to say what role this experience will play in the story of your life, but I believe it's always possible to learn and grow from what happens to us in the long run.

That said, I'm going to recommend you be given three weeks of paid medical leave, and I want you to spend them doing things that give you a sense of peace and normality. Spend time with your family. Go to a baseball game. Go fishing. Anything that gets you outside in the sunshine enjoying yourself. And absolutely no work, including on that manual."