by Angie Martin
“How are you feeling tonight?” he asks.
“Much better,” I say.
“Do you know your name?”
“Haley.”
“Does that come with a last name?” he asks with a flirty half-smile.
“Beck.”
“Nice to meet you, Haley Beck. What year is it?”
“2016. I know that I took some pills, but that was dumb of me. I don’t want to die, and I don’t know why I let myself get to that point. I had stopped taking my happy pills and I wasn’t in the right frame of mind and—”
“It’s okay,” he says. “Don’t worry about all that psychiatric stuff today. We can get to all that later. I’m just glad to see you wide awake.” He turns to Nursey. “I think it’s safe to remove her restraints. She won’t try anything.” His blue eyes swing my way. “Will you?”
I do not want to let the doctor down with my response. My eyes beg for sympathy and sincerity oozes out from my pouting mouth. “I made a mistake.”
“That’s good to hear. It’s the first step on that long and winding recovery highway.” His hand touches my shoulder, sending tingles through my veins. “I think you will be the perfect guest.” He winks.
I sneak a glance at his left hand and do not see a wedding ring. I don’t know if he’s flirting with me or if he’s a good doctor with a hell of a bedside manner, but I like thinking about our future together. As a model patient, his growing attraction to me will one day trump his duties at the hospital, but he will limit himself to harmless flirting with strong overtones. We will both know we have to wait until I am released from his care before we start dating, but a man like this is worth the wait.
My school girl crush is beyond silly, but an indication that I will abstain from trying to kill myself again. I lift my hand and flash my IV at him. “When can I get this out?”
“I don’t see why we can’t take care of that now.”
Nursey nods and leaves the room.
“Since you’re awake,” the doctor says, “we don’t need the IV to make sure you’re hydrated. There are no meds in there, given the circumstances of your arrival, of course.”
“Of course,” I repeat. He doesn’t have to explain the rules to me. I overdosed on sleeping pills. They will keep my system clean of any and all pollutants while I am here. This is my second trip to the hospital after a suicide attempt, the first on the same night I graduated high school, which coincided with the anniversary of my father’s death. During that stay, the doctors diagnosed me with depression and gave me a good dose of happy pills. Those pills worked for years, until my recent break up when I decided to stop taking the helpful medication and instead swallow a large handful of the not-so-helpful kind.
I’m sure my stay here will mimic that first hospitalization, and I won’t even be able to take an aspirin if needed. Headaches and other pains will have free reign over my body. Even now, the side of my brain bounces off my trampoline skull, letting me know it is aware of my inability to put it in time out for being rambunctious.
Nursey comes into the room again with a tray of equipment. She walks over to the other side of the bed, sets the down on the table, and goes to work on my IV. The doctor busies himself with flashing a light in my eyes, making me follow his finger back and forth, and asking me random questions to test my mental acuity.
“Can I see my family or friends?” I ask the doctor.
“Not right away,” he says. “They know you’re here, but we prefer it if you focus on your recovery first. You have quite a bit of things to work on, and we’ll begin first thing tomorrow. You will have daily visits with a psychiatrist. He will monitor your recovery and let us know when you’re ready to leave.”
“What about other patients? Is there a group therapy?”
“We don’t encourage that immediately. You’ll be able to be with others, but only when the psychiatrist deems you able to integrate into the group without issue.”
“All done,” Nursey says. She lifts the tray from the table. “I’ll be back every hour to make sure you’re doing okay.”
The doctor steps back from my bed. “I’ll leave you alone as well so you can get some sleep. You have a big morning tomorrow, so you’ll want to be well rested.”
I smile and thank them. After they leave, I realize I did not ask the doctor or the nurse their names. I also didn’t notice a stitched name on the doctor’s white coat. I will have to remember to do that later so I know how to address them. The doctor’s advice to sleep floats through my brain as a great idea. I am tired, and I want to be mentally prepared to face my demons in the morning.
Chapter Three
Ch-ch. Ch-ch-ch. Ch-ch.
My eyes fly open at the strange sounds in my room. Light spills into the room from around the doorframe, casting shadows around the room, but it does nothing to allow me to find the source of the noise that sounds as if it’s coming from the corner furthest away from my bed.
Despite the lack of light, I peer through the thick darkness. The deep black seems more suited for the depths of the ocean in which only creatures created to survive, do. I see nothing except the outline of the door in my peripheral vision. I turn my eyes to the door, and the light illuminating it blinds me like I’ve just stared into a flash of a camera. My eyelids slam shut against the searing brightness, but the shape of the door appears etched into the back of my eyes. I rub my eyes, smearing and distorting the rectangular shape.
Ch-ch. Ch-ch-ch. Ch-ch. Sluuuuurrrr.
An unexplainable terror reaches into my soul and scratches it like fingernails on a chalkboard. I keep my eyes closed, fearful of discovering what malevolent beast emits the sounds.
A staccato, girlish laugh tinkles through the room. The high-pitched noise seems to reach for a frequency that encroaches on dog whistle territory, and then ceases. No echo from the laugh remains in the room, or even in my ears, and I wonder if I’ve actually heard something.
I wait a full minute, at least. It may be longer, but I know the more time that passes without a sound is better than continuing to hear things. The minute comes and goes, I think, and I wait out another one.
Nothing. No sound. No laugh.
I let the stale air out of my lungs and open my eyes. The dark has returned to a normal state, complete with contours and shadows.
My feet inch toward the side of the bed and my legs follow, swinging over the edge until I push off the bed and rise to my full 5’7” height. I continue looking around the room and waiting for the unusual sounds to start again, but my imagination has taken leave and bid me adieu.
I move toward the door. Exploring the hospital halls in the middle of the night might get my knuckles smacked by a nurse, but I’ve always been too curious for my own good. I half expect to find a locked door, but the knob rotates until the latch retreats beyond the strike plate. The door slides open with a slight tug.
My brow creases at the darkened hallways. Usually, hospital hallways stay lit as bright as the sun, no matter the time of day or night. There had also been the alarmingly white light outlining my door, but it seemed to have disappeared with the darkness.
I inch down the hallway, my head twisting to look behind me every few steps. I don’t want Nursey or any of her coworkers to catch me during my escapade. I expect the next room to only be a handful of feet away from mine, but it takes me several yards before I find the door to the next room. While a private room, my quarters are not particularly large to warrant such a large distance between doors. Of course, the next patient over may have booked the luxury suite for their stay, but I somehow doubt it.
The door to the next patient’s room is ajar. With no nurse’s station in sight, I decide a small peek wouldn’t hurt. I nudge the door open with the toe of my slipper, and it creaks open. I freeze at the sound before looking around wildly, but no one comes running to see what I’m doing.
I ease my head into the room, intending to just sneak a glance. An elderly man lies in the bed, his restraints holding
him down, his large, glassy eyes staring at me in pure terror. My nurturing side kicks in, and I take a step into the room. “Are you okay? Do you need me to get the nurse?” My foot lifts to proceed into his room, but he stops me.
“Don’t!” he hisses at me, pointing a sharp, yellow fingernail in my direction from under his restraints. His jagged joints seem witchlike, and I wonder how long he’s had arthritis, an irrational thought.
“You’re not supposed to be out of your room,” he continues, oblivious to my ridiculous thoughts. “They’ll… they’ll come for you.”
I almost laugh at his warning, but the horrified expression on his face tells me he believes what he says. “Who will come for me?” I ask, though I knew better than to question an obviously insane person.
“Go away!” he yells as loud as his whisper will allow. “Let me be! Don’t bring them here!” The man thrashes about in the bed, the chunks of withering, gray hair flailing around his scalp as he tries to free himself from his binds.
I jump back out of the room and quickly close the door, shutting his groans in with him. Still in shock over our exchange, my hand covers my mouth. The man was beyond a simple hospitalization. He needs to be institutionalized.
Sluuuuurrrr.
My body stiffens at the familiar sound coming from behind me. Against my better judgment, I slowly rotate my head and stare into the swell of darkness eating away at the empty hallway.
Ch-ch. Ch-ch-ch. Ch-ch.
I raise my eyes to the ceiling, to the exact spot from where the sound originates. Nothing but shadows line the off-white tiles above me. My heart races with fear, but my body will not move.
Ch-ch. Ch-ch-ch. Ch-ch.
The sound is closer now. Suddenly, the childlike laugh rings again, louder than before. I look behind me again and see the lights have all shut off. Turning my head again, I fix my eyes on my door as my shoulders tighten with tension. The laugh keeps coming, accompanied by the strange noise.
Ch-ch. Ch-ch-ch. Ch-ch. Sluuuuurrrr.
A burst of hot, putrid breath hits my left ear. My legs act on their own accord and race down the hall toward my room. In my room, I slam the door shut, just as the darkness reaches me. I hop into my bed and pull the covers up to my neck. I turn on my side, facing away from the door, and curl up under the blankets.
A horrible scream rushes down the hallway and filters underneath my door. It somewhat sounds like the old man next door, but I can’t be for sure, not with the agony laced in with the screeching. I cover my ears with my hands, pressing into my head as hard as I can, but the scream continues piercing my eardrums. It seems to go on forever, without a breath to interrupt it.
Then it stops. I cautiously lift my hands off my ears, but hear nothing. The deafening silence which follows is far more frightening than anything else I’ve heard tonight.
The door to my room creaks open. My eyes widen to their fullest potential, but I quickly snap them shut. I sense something moving behind me, something beyond terrifying. My heart slams into my chest, beating faster than I can ever remember. I hold still, as much as possible, for fear that whoever is in my room will be upset if they discover me awake.
Seconds later, my door shuts again, and my room fills with comforting emptiness. I want to cleanse my body of the overwhelming fear with a deep inhale, but, somehow, I know as soon as I do, my door will open again. Instead, I keep my eyes closed until I eventually fall asleep.
Chapter Four
Morning comes, much earlier than I wish it to, but I comply with the will of the sun poking through my window and open my eyes. I remain frozen, clinging to the safety of my blankets, worried that as soon as I move, the sounds and the darkness will materialize.
After a few minutes, fear releases my body, and my mind informs me it’s okay to move. I roll over and glance around. My room has returned to normal, just as it was when I woke up here yesterday. I stay in bed, however, not knowing if I am safe.
My door opens, and Nursey comes in, cheerful as ever. She wheels in a cart with a tray of what I’m sure is stale hospital food.
“Good, you’re awake,” she says. “I have some breakfast for you. As soon as you’re finished, I’ll take you down for your first session with Doctor Franken.”
She raises the back of the bed so I’m in a sitting position and brings the bedside tray over my lap. She places the tray of food in front of me along with an orange juice and coffee, which smells better than the sludge I make at home.
“Would you like any cream or sugar? We also have half and half and sugar substitute, in case you prefer those.”
I glance up at her toothy smile, but I can’t seem to manage one myself. Her bubbly persona grates on me this morning, especially with my lack of sleep.
“I prefer black, thank you,” I say. “Is there a staff here at night?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I got out of bed last night to take a short walk, and I saw no nurses or other employees here. The lights were all out. It was very odd.”
She laughs, a high-pitched cheerleader laugh that I’m sure she’s carried with her since high school. “Oh, sweetie, of course we have a full staff around the clock. The lights are always on in the hall. Sounds like you just had a vivid dream.”
Memories of last night tug the corners of my mouth downward. “I don’t know. It seemed so real.”
“Sometimes dreams do seem real, but I’m sure it wasn’t.”
“But, there was a man. In the room next to me. He had long, gray hair and yellow fingernails and—”
“Oh, Mr. Swanson,” she says. “He’s not here any longer. He checked out yesterday.”
“Yesterday? But, I saw him last night.” My ears echo the horrendous scream. “I… I heard him. He sounded like he was in a lot of pain.”
“That’s impossible, dear. Maybe you remember him from when you were brought here. You were in and out of consciousness when we wheeled you into your room. You may have seen him when we passed by his door.”
“Maybe,” I say, but I’m not convinced. A dream is the only true explanation, but usually my dreams don’t linger this long in my memory. At the very least, it should be fading by now.
She sets a small, plastic cup on my tray. Pointing to the oblong, white pill inside, she says, “Take this now, before you eat. It works better with food.”
“What is it?”
“Just a little something to help with any anxiety.”
I follow her instructions, and she removes the cup.
“I’ll come get you in just a bit,” Nursey says, heading for the door. “Make sure you eat up. You’ll need your strength.”
She leaves the room and shuts the door behind her. I stare at the covered food tray. I agree, I should eat to build up strength, but I’m not very hungry. I opt for a sip of my coffee instead. The rich aroma infiltrates my nose, as smooth, dark notes overwhelm my taste buds. I savor the distinct flavor for a moment before swallowing. I wonder how a hospital can afford such expensive coffee for its “guests.”
Encouraged by the incredible brew, I lift the lid to the food tray. My eyes widen as I take in the sight of eggs Benedict, two slices of bacon cooked to perfection without an ounce of grease on them, and a side of hash browns with a perfect, brown crisp that I love so much.
“Where am I?” I ask aloud. “The Ritz Carlton?”
With all my time spent in the hospital with my dad and my own stay after my first suicide attempt, I have had my share of hospital slop. Indistinguishable meat, slightly undercooked peas with carrots, lumpy ice cream, and green Jell-O, usually accompanied by a glass of weak tea with two small, rapidly-melting ice cubes. It’s all bottom of the barrel, no matter what you order at a hospital.
But, this… this is beyond all expectations anywhere. I’ve never even had eggs Benedict before. That’s the kind of thing I see on the Food Network, all while wishing I could try it someday.
That “someday” appears to be here.
I pick up my fork a
nd cut into the egg. The yolk runs out, mixing with the creamy hollandaise sauce. I poke the fork tines into the sauce for a quick preview of what is to come. It dances on my tongue, pleasing every bit of my body and mind. I’ve never been a gluttonous person, but this caliber of food could turn me to the dark side.
Within minutes, I have devoured every last bite. I tried my best to enjoy every bit of it, but with such a delicious meal, I could not help but to rush through. My fork clanks as it drops to the empty plate, which I all but licked clean.
As soon as I wipe my mouth with the cloth napkin, the door opens again, and Nursey comes through. This time, my smile is genuine.
“How was breakfast?” she asks.
“Delicious!”
She laughs and gestures to my plate. “I can see that. I’m glad you found it in you to eat everything.” She scoops up my tray.
“I’ve never tasted such amazing hospital food before. Well, never had something so good anywhere.”
“We employ the best of the best here. We cater to a lot of celebrities. You know, everything from Hollywood-types to politicians. We pride ourselves on serving everyone who comes through our doors equally and with the utmost respect and dignity, no matter who they are or why they are visiting us.”
“Not that I ever want to go to another hospital again, but if I do, I’ll be sure to have this one on the top of my list.”
She winks at me. “Nothing like a great breakfast to clear the mind of that dream you had and to get your day started right.”
My smile slowly fades as she leaves the room. Dream? I barely remember going to bed last night, let alone dreaming. I search the depths of my mind, but everything is grayed out from last night.
