MADMAN'S HAVEN

45

"Tell me what happened, Beverly,"

Dorothy's stiff eyes looked at me from the opposite side of the speeding, emergency yelling ambulance, and once again I tried to dry the tears of my cheeks.

Brandon laid on the white bier in front of us, still not showing any sign of life beside his chest that gently rose and sunk as he breathed weakly.

An oxygen mask was placed over his face to help his body stabilise from the heavy trauma, and all I could see was his long, dark eyelashes coating his bruised cheeks.

He was so beautiful, even in his most feeble state.

A paramedic was seated next to Dorothy, keeping control over Brandon's heartbeart along the never-ending road to Hammersmith Hospital.

The woman couldn't give me her promise for Brandon to make it, which shattered my heart into additional thousands of pieces.
I was so scared. What if this would lead to me losing him?

"Nurse Frazier?" Dorothy spoke again, she was eager to know about the horrific situation and refused to let me settle from the shock caused by the abuse I was forced to witness less than twenty minutes ago.

I moved my eyes, tried to remember every detail, but it all was so blurry. I just couldn't see it.

I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to remember and flash into the horror again...

"I... I don't know," I stated, and looked back at Dorothy in concern.

She just shook her head, expressing disappointment, but she didn't have time to respond as the ambulance attendant whispered something to her while they both kept their eyes at me.

I felt humiliated. Wasn't it common sense not to whisper about someone in the same room?

"Don't worry. Let us talk later," The strict woman known as my chief added with a much more gentle and understanding tone as she forced her small lips to form a smile.

I looked away from the two women, and allowed the tears to keep streaming down my face. I didn't care about appearing stable in front of Dorothy. Anyone would be broken down after something like this happening right in front of their eyes.

As so many times before, the guilt showered over me as my glance painted over Brandon's still body. If I never would have told Brandon about Donald, he would never have attacked him as he stepped inside the lift.

Even if Donald's plan was to hurt me in there, Brandon would still have jumped onto him to defend me, no matter if he knew about the previous assaults. But it was still my fault. I allowed Frank to leave me alone with Brandon, I was the one who didn't interfere between the fighting males, I was the one who didn't push the button for the elevator to move sooner.

I was a coward. Too scared to jostle myself behind the men to reach for the keypad.
I didn't dare even trying to tear them apart, or make them realize what they were doing by screaming louder or waving my hands aggressively to make them zone out from their murderous possession.

Once again I let him down. That one person that mattered the most to me. The person I needed more than anyone else just to keep myself living.

I sat in the bright hospital hallway. Stared at the flat eggshel wall as I waited for the doctors to be done with their examination of Brandon.

Dorothy traced around in front of me, walked back and forth with her arms crossed over her chest. The tapping sound of her black heels against the white vinyl floor made me mad. All I wanted was to yell at her to sit down and respect the moment filled with so much affliction and woe, but yet again I was a coward.

A woman nearly dressed as myself left the room where they put Brandon, and greeted me and Dorothy with a friendly face as she approached us.

"The patient is stabilised. He is still unconscious and his heartbeat is very weak. We will keep monitoring him and have him medicated with morphine. We will notify you if his condition alters,"

Another strike of pain hit my body as the middle-aged woman spoke.

My morphine, was currently on morphine himself...

"Will he survive?" I added eagerly. I was terrified of the answer, but I had no other choice than getting to know the truth.

The nurse spared some beats by forming another smile.

"His condition is critical, and since he is not yet awake we can not tell if there is any damage on the brain. But when we look at the tests we have run so far, his chances seem pleasant," She explained as she looked at both me and Dorothy.

My hopes grew with her words. I couldn't lose him, I knew he was a fighter. This was not his way of dying, by letting somebody else do it for him.

"I would like this to stay obscure for now. We need to speak to the police about this case, and we do not want the press here, demanding questions about the criminal," Dorothy said to the woman determinedly.

"Of course, ma'am," She shortly replied before Dorothy turned away from her.

"Thank you," I cautioned at Dorothy's matter, and the friendly nurse smiled once more before walking her way down the long, broad corridor.

"I need you to speak to me before the police arrive. This is not something we want to be proud of, Beverly. Is it true it was guardsman Connolly who did this to Mr. Barlowe?" She said, and sat down next to me.

Apparently the nurse who ran over to Dorothy's office to inform her about what happened told her about Donald's presence on the scene. It made me slightly calmer, knowing I was not alone against the man. Four other nurses saw him there.

I gathered my bravery, took a sip from the glass of water I was handed earlier, and sighed loudly before I started talking.

"Yes it is true," I uttered quietly.

"We met Mr. Connolly at the elevator after Brandon's outdoor furlough, and Mr. Burton asked if he could leave since they awaited him in the assembly," I started to explain, lying with half the words, but paused again to take a breath.

"Of course I said yes to Mr. Burton since I didn't believe it would be a problem with Mr. Connolly following us back to the patients cell. But as the doors closed, Connolly hit the emergency button. He wanted to hurt me, but Brandon immediately stepped forward to defend me. That's when he brought forward his truncheon,"

Suddenly Dorothy interrupted me.

"Donald Connolly was the one who caused that bruise on your face, wasn't he?" She asked, more in a stating way. She already knew the answer.

I nodded carefully, and the woman muttered out an array of words I never thought could fondle her proper tongue.

"He just wouldn't stop. Brandon tried to defend himself but he didn't stand a chance. He kept going even though Brandon was already knocked out,"

Once again my eyes started tearing up as the memories brought me back to the obscene situation.

"It was like he was manic, like he wasn't able to stop," I sniffled.

"I tried to scream and begged him to stop, but he didn't. Not until he realized that he would kill him if he kept going. That's when I reached the button and the lift opened again,"

Dorothy nodded in sympathy, for once relaxing that otherwise strained and harsh face.

"I will not allow that man to take another step inside my hospital," She spit in assurance.

I trusted her. I knew she was not afraid of getting rid of him, or anyone for that matter. Her persona was just too powerful.

"You talk to the police about what happened, do not leave out any details. I will handle the rest,"

All I could do was nod in agreement, and along with that, the conversation appeared to be over.

I didn't know what she meant by those last words, but she probably had her very own ways of dealing with things like this.

After all, she was governing an entire mental asylum all on her own.