Into the Night

{New} Ch. 5 : Reintroduction

The nurse smiled with too much gums. Her can-do attitude was supposed be infectious, but the way she forced it out made him wish for an actual infection. Did his clash with the doctor spur her malice or was that all her?

"We're gonna keep you over night to run a few more tests. Your caretaker, a Mrs. Lilian Hayes, has been notified. She'll be here in the morning since visiting hours have ended. She should have thought of that before you went and got in a wreck. "

She pointed a orange nail polished finger to behind him.

"There's a shower in the washroom just over there. It's newly installed, be appreciative. A set of gowns are in the cabinets next to the shower. Try not to steal them. Think of it as a gift for everyone, not you."

The nurse pulled her crow's feet bordered eyes to her rose gold watch.

"It's currently three. I highly recommend you shower. You're absolutely filthy and the custodians shouldn't be required to deal with that. Get as much rest as possible, you're depressing everyone."

She stopped just to smile a tiny bit wider. Which didn't appear possible. Her pretty in pink scrubs shuffled as she stretched her smile. However she did accomplish her goal, her gums became even more prominent, like tiny bags of gingivitis.

Calla slammed the bathroom door shut. Her attitude assured him that she was used to interrupting patients trying to take a piss before a shower. So it only made sense that by then she was also used to doors slamming in her happy-go-lucky face.

"Bye."

As soon as the lock's tumblers clicked his body unwound. All alone, behind closed doors, he couldn't incite destruction.

Trudging to the toilet, his muddy feet stained the clean floor. Bits of dried mud cracked off his skin as his toes slapped the ground. As a stream left him, he shed scabs like a cicada peeling away a layer of skin. Not changing, only growing, only being more of the same and less of what he wanted to be.

"Tomorrow will be different," Calla repeated in a loop as he let his pants crumble to the ground. Paramedic Joe's T-shirt followed close behind. As he approached the shower, it's door pulled back. Then the restroom's lights flickered to a dimmer, more relaxing, light.

"How high-tech is this place?" He asked himself. His feet touched the lukewarm shower tiles and the warm jets of water met his question. He didn't even touch the handles, only heard them screech as they were adjusted.

"Tomorrow will be different..." Calla promised himself.

He reached out and grabbed a yellow shampoo/conditioner bottle labeled, vanilla daydream. Closing his eyes firmly, he clawed at his shaking arms and legs, leaving behind thick red lines on his pale flesh. Dirt and skin piled underneath his nail beds, and he kept digging until it turned as red as the blood that wouldn't leave his mind.

The shower's glass door slid shut and the steam hid him from the world.

*

Calla slipped on the mint green gown over his damp skin.

The plastic wrapped around his thin frame like a tattered flag rippling on a battlefield. It barely reached his bulging knees. With aching hands, he tied a knot behind his back, wondering if maybe it were all a delusion.  Surly it didn't happen. At the very least, not how he remembered...

Calla wobbled to the hospital bed with a stinging back, clenching stomach, and a heart refusing to stop racing. Usually a steaming hot shower fixed everything. It seemed that boiling himself alive wouldn't send his mind back to square one.