MADMAN'S ARMS

14

Monday, August 19th

Another week passed at St: Nicolai and my head was a continuous mess. The sessions with Brandon were moving forward but he was still good at making me very uncomfortable.

His dirty grin and seductive voice was making it hard for me not to completely fall. But since I was psychologically educated, I had the perfect tools to use against him and his obvious tries of manipulation.

Even when I was at home, Brandon took a whole lot of time from me. I couldn't get him off my mind. He was something I surely hadn't experienced before and I still hadn't figured out why.

Since our meetings began, and I made my promise to him, I hadn't spotted a fresh new wound on his arm one single time. There were only scabs, brown and dry ones, looking itchy and pestilent on his pale skin.

At the hospital, it was important never to bring or have anything near the patients that they could use to hurt themselves or anyone else with. The smallest thing could turn into a weapon within matters of a second. There weren't even handles on the windows or loose furniture in the patients' rooms. Their beds were screwed to the floor and so were the chairs and desks inside.

The only time they were around loose objects, was when they had their free time in the gathering room, and in there, they were always guarded and watched over by the nurses and security guards.

Although we had all those arrangements, it wasn't unusual that patients found ways to hurt themselves anyways. Brandon was one of those who managed to continue and succeed in his self-harm behaviour in one way or another, no matter how surveilled he was.

I was well aware that self-harm was not always about the pain, it was an addiction for many of them. Even though we had many types of therapy for those whose self-harm manners had gone too far, it didn't always work, and sadly they often ended up in the straitjacket.

The straitjacket was always the last alternative for me, because it was terrible watching people being stuck and forced into something against their will, even if it was to help them.

It was hideous and claustrophobic. But the hospital also had even more rough instruments than the jacket, for people with neurological disorders or unexplainable seizures. Like electric shock therapy, boiling hot tub treatment or lobotomy...

As I walked by Margret's desk down by the reception, I laid my eyes on Donald to see if he did the same.

Without doubt he did, as always. I bestowed him a friendly smile as usual when he suddenly waved his hand at me in his direction. I looked at him interrogatively and walked over to where he stood in his stable position of a guardian.

It was routine by now to chit chat with Donald during the breaks or in the morning when we both arrived at work. He was a very friendly and handsome man, and I knew that he had eyes for me.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Frazier,"

"How many times do I have to tell you just to call me Beverly? But good afternoon to you too, Donald," The shoulder-broad man laughed at me and shook his head before he responded to me.

"I'm sorry, Beverly. Just trying to act like the gentleman I am," He used a silly voice and began to laugh again. I did the same in formality.

"Actually, Beverly. I wanted to ask you something," He broke the funny moment between us and his voice got back to normal.

Once again, I looked at him interpretative, curious about his question.

"Of course, ask along?"

"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"
I got shocked by his words even though I knew it was just a matter of time until he would dare to ask me out.

Due to his flattering compliments and constant flirting every time we spoke, it didn't take long until I realized that his interest in me was growing. I didn't really know what to answer, I wasn't truly ready for a relationship because I wanted to focus on my work which took up a lot of my mind at the moment. But Donald deserved a chance, I knew he was a great guy.

"Yes, Donald! I'd love to," His brown eyes got wide and his straight white teeth showed through a big smile. He shined with happiness and I felt glad about making him so happy just by saying yes.

"Really? I mean that's great. Can I pick you up at seven?" It was almost like he just got shy, stumbling over his words like that. But he was sweet.

"Seven sounds perfect! And I'm sorry, Donald but I really have to leave now. I'll see you tonight!" I said as I began to slowly run away towards the elevator realizing a session with Brandon was meant to begin in just a minute. I heard Donald's voice behind me again.

"No worries nurse, see you tonight!"

I reached the door to Ward 5 and stepped inside to walk towards Brandon's cellar door. As always, my stomach turned before I went inside. I was still not very used to him nor the thoughts about sitting right before one of the most graphic killers in England.

This was the first meeting with him today, and I hadn't seen him since Friday. The patients usually got their rest and much more free time during the weekends, so there were no sessions for the nurses to attend on Saturday or Sunday.

The nurses who worked on the weekends were just here to watch over the patients and handle situations like seizures, outbursts, fights, or mental breakdowns. They also made sure that the patients got their medication, which was of course needed every day.

I stepped inside Brandon's cell and met with the beautifully scary wight sitting right at the same spot as always. His messy natural curls were hanging down his forehead, which made him look like a fallen angel. He moved his brown eyes up to meet with my own as he heard the door getting opened.

His sad eyes suddenly turned into something seductive as he looked so deeply into mine. My heart began to race and I realized how I just described him as an angel in my head.

But with the way he looked, any woman would lie to say that he was not attractive, because he was, even if he was a murderer.
He was almost too attractive...