Selma T Whispers's Questionnaire

1. What town or city do you live in? Why do you live there instead of anywhere else? Describe your home.

Link Answered after Contract 1, Maikendo

Dr. whispers did incredibly well in school and could’ve had her pic of the litter when it came to Job placements that being said her specialty being psych, she decided to move California to set up home being there for several years and dealing with incredibly and increasingly extreme cases, she decided to take a step back from the She decided to Application for a childcare unit and just so happened to nail the application process and become the head doctor at this facility, although her faith in humanity Has slowly deteriorated being around children Calms her rage and not totally but still a little bit restores her desire to see the human race continue we’ll see how long that’ll last 

2. How do you get your money right now? What do you spend it on?

Link Answered after Contract 1, Maikendo

Dr. whispers works as a child psychologist at a child psych ward. She’s actually the head Resident of this facility and spends most of her time here She actually has just stepped down from head resident at California’s most major hospital. She was the head of psych fair, but the extremist of that job and the things she would deal with on a daily basis took its toll and before she found her herself patient there she decided to take a step back. It’s come to her attention that being around children Keeps her calm and psych is her passion so combining the two Was a no-brainer 

3. Describe your Ambition. What are you striving for? How far would you go to achieve this? Would you kill for it? How close to death would you come for it?

Link Answered after Contract 1, Maikendo

Dr. whispers has seen the worst of people seen what they’ve done to women children men in vulnerable places she seen the government and other resources completely abandoned people at their lowest and she’s come to the conclusion that all humanity needs to be euthanized. It’s to all suffering because of this, it’s a no-brainer that she would be willing to kill to achieve her goal, though she doesn’t see it as she sees it as a calm relief from, the insanity that is collective reality will become an angel of death. Maybe even the God of death if that’s what it takes to see her Dream come to Reality That being said, she knows everything comes with a price and all good things come in time so she will bite her time until she is able to make her dream a reality 

4. What was the most defining event of your life (before signing The Contract), and how did it change you?

Link Answered after Contract 1, Maikendo

Doctor whisperer was in her early stages of her career when she was forced to stay with a patient that was restrained. This patient was a young man who was on copious amounts of drugs and was attempting to hurt himself. This young man had already done significant damage to himself and the doctors refused to give him pain medication or sedation meds, for the reason that he didn’t have insurance as she sat and watch this man suffer being able to help him something in her snapped something in her realized all humanity has fallen to far Cannot be saved

5. Name and briefly describe three people in your life. One must be the person you are closest to.

Link Answered after Contract 1, Maikendo

Emily is Dr. Selma Whispers' younger sister and her closest confidante. Having always looked up to Selma, Emily values her sister’s insight and guidance. As an elementary school teacher, Emily shares Selma's passion for education and emotional support. Their bond is strengthened by their frequent hiking trips, where they discuss life, challenges, and future aspirations. Emily inspires Selma to maintain balance in her life, reminding her of the joys outside of her demanding career.

Dr. Harrington is a respected figure in the field of psychology and Selma's former professor. He has profoundly influenced her professional development and approach to mental health. Known for his wisdom and encouragement, he nurtured Selma’s interests in trauma recovery and holistic healing. They maintain a close relationship, often collaborating on workshops and research projects. Dr. Harrington’s mentorship has been crucial in shaping Selma into the compassionate practitioner she is today.

 Michael is Dr. Whispers' supportive partner, a talented musician who understands the importance of mental wellness. He is a constant source of encouragement and inspiration for her, often reminding her to take time for self-care. Their relationship is built on mutual respect, laughter, and creativity. Michael's ability to express emotions through music helps Selma relax, providing a sanctuary amidst her demanding profession. Together, they create a nurturing home environment that fosters growth and creativity.

6. How was your childhood? Who were your parents? What were they like? Did you attend school? If so, did you fit in? If not, why not?

Link Answered after Contract 6, Pick Your Poison

 

My childhood was clinical — clean, sterile, quiet.
I was born in Stockholm, Sweden. My parents were doctors, the kind who believed love was a reward, not a given. Every good grade earned a nod. Every mistake earned a silence that lasted for days.

We lived in a bright apartment that smelled like bleach and cold takeout. I went to private school. Not because they cared about my future — but because they cared about appearances.

Did I fit in? No. I wore the wrong clothes. Said the wrong things. Laughed when nobody else did. I learned quickly that most people were cruel because it was easier than being kind. I started studying people like subjects under a microscope. What made them laugh? Cry? Break?

School wasn't about learning for me. It was about surviving. It was the first place I realized the world didn't want to save anyone. It wanted to hurt them. And I decided early on: if pain was inevitable, I'd make sure it was gentle... or at least beautiful.

7. Have you ever been in love? With who? What happened? If not, why not?

Link Answered after Contract 6, Pick Your Poison

I thought I was, once.
His name was Adrian. He was another med student — brilliant, reckless, all the wrong kinds of broken.
We understood each other in the way two dying stars do. Both burning out, but pretending to be suns.

For a little while, it was perfect. He made the world seem less unbearable. I made him believe he was still human.
But people like us — we don’t heal. We rot together.
He started drinking. I started disappearing into books and late-night shifts.
One night, he left without a word. Maybe he lived. Maybe he didn’t. I never checked.

Since then?
No. Love is messy. Dangerous.
It softens the edges I'm trying to sharpen.
And I can’t afford to be soft. Not now. Not ever again.

8. What are your worst fears? Why?

Link Answered after Contract 6, Pick Your Poison

 

I fear being forgotten. Not death — death is inevitable.
But to die and leave no mark, to vanish like a breath in the cold — that terrifies me.

I also fear becoming them.
The ones who patch a wound and call it mercy.
The ones who look into the eyes of suffering and say, "Hold on a little longer."
I am not a monster because I kill. I am a monster because I believe death can be a gift, a kindness.
But what happens if I lose that clarity?
What happens if I start to believe in the lie that life — any life — is sacred, no matter how much pain it drips into the world?
That’s the real horror.
Waking up one morning and realizing I’ve become another doctor with a savior complex.
Another coward too weak to pull the plug.

There's a smaller fear, too, tucked in the quiet places of my mind.
Flying — not the movement itself, but the height.
The idea of falling from so far up, with nothing beneath me.
That helplessness. That long, inevitable drop.

I guess, when you boil it all down, my biggest fear is losing control.
Of myself. Of the end. Of the mercy I was meant to give.

9. What is (are) your most prized possession(s)? What makes it (them) so special?

Link Answered after Contract 6, Pick Your Poison

 

My most prized possession is my pair of gold-rimmed glasses — Doctor’s Orders.
They’re not just tools. They’re a reminder. A weight.

When I first touched them, I didn't just get the ability to twist emotions.
I got responsibility.
The glasses shine when I push someone’s mind just the right way — a shimmer of trust, fear, rage, whatever I need.
But they’re more than that.
They are proof that words, whispers, and ideas can heal faster than any scalpel, or hurt deeper than any knife.

Without them, I could still kill. I could still heal.
But with them, I can guide.
I can offer a clean exit or a sharp shove over the edge, depending on what mercy demands.
And mercy, in my hands, wears a gold reflection across her eyes.

Some people keep jewelry from loved ones.
I carry the ability to unmake someone's fate with a conversation.
And I treasure it.

later

It’s changed. It had to.

I still have Doctor’s Orders — the glasses — tucked away in a small, battered case. I don’t use them as often anymore.
Not because they’ve lost power.
Because I don’t need reminders of what I already am.

My most prized possession now is a black, leather-bound notebook. It’s small. Fits perfectly in the pocket of my red scrubs.
Inside are names.
Every name I could not save.
Every name I guided to a cleaner ending.

At first, it was guilt.
Now, it's a covenant.
When I read their names, I remember why I still whisper when I could scream. Why I heal when I could kill.
Why I break when necessary, but never for pleasure.

Each page is a reminder that death isn’t failure.
But forgetting them would be.

It’s not flashy. It’s not magic.
It’s just paper, ink, and scars that don’t fade.

10. What is the biggest problem in your life right now?

Link Answered after Contract 6, Pick Your Poison

 

The biggest problem is simple:
People keep getting better at surviving.

Cures, technology, stubbornness — all these little things that drag the human race by its nails across the timeline. It should be easier now, guiding them into the silence they deserve.
But no.
Every day I fight more than just wounds or disease. I fight hope.
Hope is a virus worse than anything I can whisper away.

I try to offer clean endings. Painless. Final.
But the world isn't ready to die yet.
They claw for miracles, invent new ways to escape the natural order. They call it medicine. They call it progress.
I call it resistance.

And resistance has a cost.

It's getting harder to reach them before they rot alive.
Harder to hold their hands before the machines plug into them.
Harder to do what angels are supposed to do.

If I want to fulfill my purpose, I'll have to change.
Become something sharper.

Maybe that's what truly terrifies me.

11. Describe a typical morning. How do you get ready to face the world?

Link Answered after Contract 6, Pick Your Poison

 

I wake up before the sun thinks about rising.
The world feels heavier at that hour — raw, unfinished.
Perfect.

First, I check my hands. Make sure they’re steady.
There’s no point whispering life or death into someone’s ear if your own fingers tremble.
I practice breathing. Deep. Slow. Rhythmic. A surgeon’s breath. A reaper’s patience.
Red scrubs, clean and pressed, go on next. I’m not sloppy. Sloppiness is for the living.

Coffee is black, bitter enough to remind me why I’m still here.
Sometimes I watch the city from my window, count the few poor souls walking the streets so early. I wonder if they’ll be mine today. I hope so.

Before leaving, I whisper to myself.
It’s not prayer. It's a promise.
"You will be merciful."
"You will be efficient."
"You will not waver."

Only then do I step into the world, ready to offer peace to a species too afraid to take it.

later 

Mornings are mechanical now.
I open my eyes because I must, not because I want to.
The world isn't a thing I face — it’s a thing I endure.

The moment I wake, I check my vitals: pulse, breath, clarity.
The body is a machine. It must be maintained if the mission is to continue.

No mirror. I don't look at myself anymore. There's nothing to see but function.

The red scrubs go on.
The glasses — my artifact, my weapon — polished and set on my nose.
My bag, full of instruments more sacred than any priest’s relics.

Breakfast, if you can call it that, is a handful of vitamins and water. No time for softness.
No time for cravings or comforts.
Those are the luxuries of those who still believe they are alive.

Before I leave, I recite the Oath. Not Hippocrates.
Mine.
"They will know peace, even if they must bleed to reach it."

I step outside not to greet the day, but to conquer it.
Every hour is another cut into the rotting flesh of humanity.
And I will not stop until the last heartbeat stills.

12. If you were going somewhere special that you wanted to look your best for, what would you do to prepare? What would you wear? How long would it take you to get ready?

Link Answered after Contract 6, Pick Your Poison

 

Special? That's a laugh.

There’s only one thing that would make me bother — a ceremony of endings.
A funeral. A final Contract. A gathering of those foolish enough to think they're still in control.

For an occasion like that, I would take my time.
Maybe an hour, no more.
Precision matters. Vanity doesn't.

First, I would bleach the blood out of my scrubs, starch them into perfect, sharp lines.
Then I'd trade them for something deeper — a red dress, tight to the ribs, long enough to whisper along the floor.
Nothing fancy. No jewelry.
Only my glasses, polished until they gleam like a scalpel under sterile lights.

Hair brushed out straight, clean, tucked back — no stray threads to snag or slow me.
Hands scrubbed raw and perfumed lightly with lilies, to mask the smell of old work.

I would arrive not to be admired.
I would arrive to be remembered.

later

Now?
Now I don't "get ready." I become ready.

The ritual's stripped down, sharper. It isn't about looking good — it's about presenting the right message. A warning, an omen.

Before a special Contract or event, I spend no more than twenty minutes preparing. Efficiency is elegance.
I pull out my black scrubs — a darker version of my usual red ones, stained but washed, tailored close to my frame.
Black leather gloves over my nimble fingers.
My round glasses gleam, but they are no longer just lenses. They are a symbol: I see you. I judge you.

My hair stays tied back in a simple, severe knot. No more pretending at softness.

If there's time, I chalk small sigils onto the soles of my shoes. Little prayers of passing.
Not for me — for them.

When I step into the world, I don't want to look beautiful.
I want to look inevitable.

13. What will you do for your next birthday?

Link Answered after Contract 6, Pick Your Poison

 

Birthdays used to mean something. A cake, a wish. A reminder you were alive.
Now? Another year is just another layer of ash on a fire that won’t go out.

For my next birthday, I will do what I do every day now: practice, prepare, hunt.
I’ll treat myself to an hour of silence — no Contracts, no noise, no distractions. Just me, sharpening the blade, whispering the names of the ones I will one day lead to peace.

Maybe I’ll light a candle, but not for celebration. For memory.
I’ll remember the old Selma — the doctor who thought she could save people.
And then I’ll snuff it out.

My gift to myself will be simple: survive another year closer to my purpose.

14. What is your greatest regret?

Link Answered after Contract 6, Pick Your Poison

 

There was a time I thought I could save them all — every child that came through my office, every broken family that clung to hope. I thought my hands could heal anything if I just tried hard enough. I see now how naïve that was.

My greatest regret is mercy.
Mercy kept me from acting sooner.
Mercy let monsters walk free while good people suffered.
Mercy told me that death was a failure, when in truth, it is a release.

There are faces I still see when I close my eyes — children who trusted me to protect them, who I sent back into the world thinking the system would save them.
It didn’t.
It chewed them up, same as it always does.

If I had embraced my purpose earlier, if I had understood that the only true kindness is a clean, painless end...
Maybe fewer would have suffered.

But I learned.
I will not make that mistake again.

15. What is the nature of your Gifts? Are they inherent potential? Do harbingers just grant your wishes?

Link Answered after Contract 6, Pick Your Poison

The Gifts were never truly given to me. They were revealed.
The harbingers didn’t bestow some alien power on me like a king knighting a peasant — they tore away the illusions that shackled me, the false beliefs that kept my hands idle. They showed me that I had always carried this potential inside, buried deep under years of fear and politeness. I was never just a psychologist. I was always a surgeon of the soul, a shepherd for those ready to cross into silence.

Every whisper that heals, every word that calms or cuts, every moment I steal from the pain of others — it was mine already. The harbingers simply peeled the skin away and let it breathe.

My Gifts aren’t curses or miracles.
They are extensions of what I am: a necessary hand in a sick, dying world.
I don't serve the Gifts. They serve me.

And now, nothing can stop me.

16. How do you feel about spirituality? Are you religious? What do you believe?

Link Answered after Contract 6, Pick Your Poison

Spirituality... it’s a word people use when they’re too afraid to name what they really feel: hunger. A hunger for meaning, for certainty, for a place to rest their fear.
I don’t chase gods or cling to rituals. I’ve seen too much to pretend that anyone up there is listening. No, I don’t believe in deities. I believe in inevitability. I believe in death.

Death is the truest act of mercy, the greatest force of balance. It comes for kings and for children, for the wicked and the pure. It cannot be bribed or reasoned with. It is the closest thing to a divine law this world will ever know.

I see myself as an extension of that mercy. I guide, I whisper, I heal — but ultimately, I prepare people to meet the one true certainty with as little pain as possible.

There is no heaven. No judgment. Only release.

17. How do the events of the Contracts conflict with your worldview? How do you react when everything you thought was true is put in doubt?

Link Answered after Contract 6, Pick Your Poison

When I first stepped into this life — Contracts, Harbingers, Gifts — I thought I had the world neatly measured. Life was suffering, death was mercy, and I would simply be the bridge between the two.
But the things I have seen... creatures that defy biology, memories torn apart and stitched wrong, powers that shouldn't exist — they make it clear: death is not always an end. Sometimes, it’s a transformation. Sometimes, it’s a lie.

It shakes me, though I don't show it. I patch the cracks, I double down. If death isn’t always final, then I must become even stronger. I must be the one to make sure their endings stay merciful, clean, true. I won’t let this world twist people into something unnatural.

When everything I thought I knew turns sideways, I don’t shatter. I sharpen. I become more certain. Doubt isn’t a weakness — it’s a weapon, if you know how to use it.

18. Give a brief description of the other Contractors you see often. What do you like or dislike about them?

Link Answered after Contract 7, The Winter Hunt

They’re not mine. Let’s start there.

The Contractors I see most often are a rotating cast of liabilities. Loud ones. Messy ones. The kind that announce their presence before stepping into a room—figuratively, if we’re lucky.

Vita? A paradox wrapped in silence. Always smiling like she doesn’t know what the word “consequence” means. Or maybe she does, and just enjoys stepping on it. People find her cute. I find her dangerous. Not the good kind.

Chris is too clean. Sterile. Efficient like a machine that was built to survive exactly six missions and then implode. I don’t trust people who keep their boots that polished.

Marcielle carries herself like she’s read the last page of the book and won’t spoil the ending. That’s fine. I don’t need spoilers. I already know how stories like hers end.

Do I like any of them? No. I monitor them. Like weather patterns. Like symptoms.

Like threats.

19. Describe the perfect room.

Link Answered after Contract 7, The Winter Hunt

The perfect room is clean. Not tidy—clean. No dust. No ambient noise. Four walls, no windows, one door. The kind that locks from the inside and outside. Pale lighting, cool temperature, and no decoration. Decoration invites interpretation. Interpretation invites sentiment. I don’t want sentiment in a room. I want control.

There’s a table—metal, bolted to the floor—and two chairs. One for me. One for the subject. The acoustics are sharp enough that a whisper cuts like a scalpel. The walls absorb screams but reflect truths. There's a camera in the corner. Not for surveillance. For study.

The perfect room doesn't comfort. It doesn’t soothe. It isolates. It listens. And when necessary, it remembers.

Comfort is a distraction. Silence is honesty.