behind him and turning both the door lock and the deadbolt, securing her inside. He stood, his hand on the door, his heart screaming. He shouldn’t have made love to her last night. He needed to protect her, keep her safe. If he let his guard down, then she would get hurt, or worse. That’s what had happened last time; things had gotten out of control. He had lost control, and wasn’t able to stop it.
Chapter 18
One of the fluorescent bulbs in the waiting room at the hospital was about to go dark. The incessant buzzing dug a hole in Rick’s patience as he waited to be summoned to the back room to speak with the doctors. He had been here multiple times over the years, and it always seemed as though something was broken, this dilapidated building crumbling down as the patients wandered the halls, lost in their own nightmares.
A nurse, wearing the same starched white uniform of countless women before her, stepped through a door leading deeper into the hell that was this place, searched the room, and gave Rick a sympathetic smile. She recognized him. They always did. He could see the pity in their eyes each time he arrived.
“He's waiting for you, Mr. Andrews,” she said, holding the door open, permitting him entry to the hall beyond. Rick stood, his discontentment visible in the creases of his forehead, and crossed the threshold into the home of insanity.
White tile floors, chipped at the edges, marked by years of the incessant pacing of wandering footsteps, led through a hall of unmarked doors, each the same, closed and locked against curious minds. He turned his head as he walked past, nodding hello at the orderlies crowding around a small television in the nurses’ station, enjoying a moment of normalcy, few and far between in their world. The gate to his left, leading to the day room and the patients’ rooms beyond, was perpetually locked, opened only for the occasional visitor, or to accept a new member to the family of crazy that lived here, spending their lives together, lost in their own worlds or drugged to the point of emptiness.
At the end of the long hallway, a solitary door was labelled with a brass plaque, the name of the head psychiatrist printed upon it. Rick new the lettering on the sign. He had traced it with his fingertip, awaiting the man on the other side to allow him entry. He rapped his knuckles softly against the wood, and a voice called to him. He didn't want to go in there, deal with this, not again. But he reached for the ancient brass door knob, turned it, and pushed the door inward.
Chapter 19
Alex wandered down a dark alley, her stomach clenched in fear, blood running ice cold in her veins. She couldn't breathe, panting and clutching at her chest, the pain there unbearable. Where was Rick? Wasn't he supposed to be keeping her safe? Why was she here, alone, in this dark place? Stumbling, she caught herself before falling into a pile of garbage, scraping her hand against the dingy brick of an old building. Her palm was bleeding, the skin broken, and she held it against her sweater as she made her way toward the pale light emanating from the end of the corridor.
She stepped out into a part of town that she was unfamiliar with, the buildings surrounding her foreign and unfriendly places. She went up to a shop, trying the handle, only to find it locked, barring her entry. She had to find someone who could help her, someone who would tell her where she was, someone that could help her get home. Walking down the dismally empty street, she peered in each window she passed, seeing not a single person in any of them. Where was everybody?
In the distance, she saw movement. Walking quickly, she called out, “Hello! Hey, wait a minute! I need help, I'm lost and I've been injured!”
Chapter 18
One of the fluorescent bulbs in the waiting room at the hospital was about to go dark. The incessant buzzing dug a hole in Rick’s patience as he waited to be summoned to the back room to speak with the doctors. He had been here multiple times over the years, and it always seemed as though something was broken, this dilapidated building crumbling down as the patients wandered the halls, lost in their own nightmares.
A nurse, wearing the same starched white uniform of countless women before her, stepped through a door leading deeper into the hell that was this place, searched the room, and gave Rick a sympathetic smile. She recognized him. They always did. He could see the pity in their eyes each time he arrived.
“He's waiting for you, Mr. Andrews,” she said, holding the door open, permitting him entry to the hall beyond. Rick stood, his discontentment visible in the creases of his forehead, and crossed the threshold into the home of insanity.
White tile floors, chipped at the edges, marked by years of the incessant pacing of wandering footsteps, led through a hall of unmarked doors, each the same, closed and locked against curious minds. He turned his head as he walked past, nodding hello at the orderlies crowding around a small television in the nurses’ station, enjoying a moment of normalcy, few and far between in their world. The gate to his left, leading to the day room and the patients’ rooms beyond, was perpetually locked, opened only for the occasional visitor, or to accept a new member to the family of crazy that lived here, spending their lives together, lost in their own worlds or drugged to the point of emptiness.
At the end of the long hallway, a solitary door was labelled with a brass plaque, the name of the head psychiatrist printed upon it. Rick new the lettering on the sign. He had traced it with his fingertip, awaiting the man on the other side to allow him entry. He rapped his knuckles softly against the wood, and a voice called to him. He didn't want to go in there, deal with this, not again. But he reached for the ancient brass door knob, turned it, and pushed the door inward.
Chapter 19
Alex wandered down a dark alley, her stomach clenched in fear, blood running ice cold in her veins. She couldn't breathe, panting and clutching at her chest, the pain there unbearable. Where was Rick? Wasn't he supposed to be keeping her safe? Why was she here, alone, in this dark place? Stumbling, she caught herself before falling into a pile of garbage, scraping her hand against the dingy brick of an old building. Her palm was bleeding, the skin broken, and she held it against her sweater as she made her way toward the pale light emanating from the end of the corridor.
She stepped out into a part of town that she was unfamiliar with, the buildings surrounding her foreign and unfriendly places. She went up to a shop, trying the handle, only to find it locked, barring her entry. She had to find someone who could help her, someone who would tell her where she was, someone that could help her get home. Walking down the dismally empty street, she peered in each window she passed, seeing not a single person in any of them. Where was everybody?
In the distance, she saw movement. Walking quickly, she called out, “Hello! Hey, wait a minute! I need help, I'm lost and I've been injured!”
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