MADMAN'S HAVEN

53

Thursday, February 6th

After one week of lying in a soft, white hospital bed, being kept on IV and medicated with high doses of morphine, Brandon was finally discharged from the hospital and put back into the well-known, small cellar number 401. His bruised skin was slowly turning into a healthy, rosy beige colour again, and the swelling of his flesh subsided with every day. The stitches on his left cheek were healing, and the itching scab in the corner of his lower lip was no longer black in colour.

He was turning into himself again. More beautiful and so filled with strength.

I enjoyed watching him. Inspect as every cell worked so hard to put him together and repair the damage and make him look exactly the same as before the horrific assault. Every detail was fixed with the most committed work. Probably he would just be left with a tiny scar on his sewn cheek that would blanch later on and fade into something nearly visible.

He would be complete again. And there would be no sign of Donald's malicious actions on his body.

The thought made me pleased. Brandon didn't deserve to be marked for life by that man. And Donald didn't deserve to leave proof of his brutality onto anyone's innocent body.

The clock was nearly 1 pm, and the lunch break was reaching its end. As usual I sat with my three close friends at the round table, and the atmosphere was bright and filled with laughter as the ladies fiddle-faddled around each other's tongues. I was one of them. Joking myself and laughing along with them all as another hilarious comment escaped one's mouth.

I felt happy again, as everything seemed to turn settled and normal in my life. Brandon was back from the hospital, Donald was gone, and there was no burning or abstinence inside me. It all was just calm for once, and I was able to scent the present.

The four of us cleared our lungs from laughter as it slowly drained us, and suddenly Harriet caught my attention as she looked at me and parted lips.

"There was a meeting this morning regarding the patient planning for 1958. It seemed Brandon was a popular name for Ms. Schwartz since she didn't stop mentioning him as we charted the ward spots,"

Harriet paused to take a sip from her cup of milk-stained coffee, and my eyes widened in confusion as I waited for her to keep talking. Since Harriet had been working here for nearly six years, she was one of the supervisors who had rather more responsibilities around the hospital. I knew she was granted information much more often than us regular nurses, and she frequently got to attend meetings with the chief and the other supervisors like the one she just mentioned.

She was seated upon inside information and helped Ms. Schwartz to keep the institution going.

"What for?" I queried, and took a sip myself from my own black coffee.

"She wants to move him from Ward 5 and take him down to third," Harriet said. I couldn't believe my ears. How come she wanted to move him from the monitored, high-security ward?

"Apparently she is pleased with his progress, and wants to give him a chance in a less restrained section. We all questioned her proposition, but her reasons were fair. Think about how he hasn't raged out once since the Acker situation. He has been calm and cooperative, and even though a man attacked the both of you, he didn't swiftly move to break his neck right away, he just fought in defence. It seems Ms. Schwartz believes that he is not a danger to anyone in here anymore. The only thing he wanted was revenge Joseph and now he's got that. There is no more reason for him to kill, Beverly,"

Harriet's speech travelled my circuit, and a feeling of relief and happiness and hope illuminated my spirit. They finally settled the same conclusion as myself, and now Ms. Schwartz was even considering a transfer to another ward.

I crossed my fingers in my lap under the table, and spared my happiness to appear professional.

"I thought he urged to kill people. He is a claimed psychopath?" I responded questionly, tried to play along to get more information about their rundown.

"She's been following up on his journal, reading it carefully, over and over again during the past six months. She has noticed an uncommon development in his treatment, and she is now waiting for a government decision about starting a new forensic psychiatric assessment. She doesn't think he is a psychopath," Harriet continued to speak, and with every word, my eyes wanted to release the tears stinging behind them. I never thought this would happen, but once again I was proved how devoted Dorothy was to her profession and how genuinely she cared for her inmates.

"She thinks the doctors gave him the wrong diagnosis?" I asked carefully, eager to know everything about Dorothy's unexpected summary.

Harriet nodded.

"It's been almost eight years since he was first unravelled, and the evolution in psychiatry knowledge has been big. There are new ways to do it now. Also, he was so young when he got through it the first time. He's in need of a renewal,"

Harriet's brown doe eyes focused on me as we spoke, and I almost forgot that Mildred and Janet were still seated around us, listening to the same unbelievable gossip as myself.

I couldn't find any more words. I was so messed up by the shock and confusion and by the thrilling happiness.

"It has happened before. Sometimes the right person just needs to show up and manage to make a change. You truly have done a great job with Brandon, Beverly," Harriet finished with a smile, and Mildred and Janet pulled their own lips as they nodded in agreement.

"Thank you," I replied quietly, and allowed myself to feel confident, knowing I probably helped Brandon in his development and got him to change the mind of the hospital chief.

We left the staff room as the lunch hour was now over and slowly began to walk down the corridor.

"Please don't say anything to Ms. Schwartz about this. She will come to you when she has received the decision about Brandon," Harriet placed her palm on my shoulder and smiled. She probably noticed my impatience and wondering thoughts.

"Of course, Harriet. Thank you for telling me, I really appreciate it," I responded.

She smiled again, revealed her straight teeth and started to walk away from me.

"See you later,"

We all walked our separate ways, and along the way down to Jacob's ward, I lightened a cigarette and remained in my thoughts.

If Brandon would be transferred to Ward 3, he would get a bigger room, probably one with white-painted walls and a better amount of light. He would be allowed to attend group sessions and his dose of medication would probably be lowered. He would be allowed to bring books into his room, he would even be granted outdoor activities and make a phone call once a week.

I still couldn't believe it was true. Maybe he was truly in for humane treatment for the first time in nearly a decade. Nothing about it all changed what he had done in the past. He still killed women and children. But the headnurse of this hospital was ready to let his past go, and focus on his hopefully bright future instead.