Psycho Hot (BoyxBoy)

TWO

Once I sign and date my name on the guest sheet, I politely grab the pen and paper she gave me. There are a couple of empty chairs in the lobby, so I head over to one and plop down.

The job application isn't too long. I copy over some of the details from my résumé and fill out the rest of the required information. It takes about ten minutes to complete the form. When I finally finish, I walk back to the secretary's desk.

Ella politely grabs the application from my hands. "Ill call the warden!"

She picks up the phone and announces through the speaker, "Warden to the front desk, please."

She hangs up the phone. I joke, "So, Ella, how long did it take you to master that killer smile?"

"Only a week. They always want us grinning from ear to ear when there are outsiders around. I guess it gives off a welcoming atmosphere," she pauses for a moment. "Otherwise, I'm a pro-frowner."

"Well, that's-"

"Hello! Welcome to Holmes Chapel Asylum. I'm the head warden here, Catherine Ward. My last name is a bit ironic, I know." A woman appears out of nowhere, interrupting my playful conversation with Ella.

The warden is displaying that famous forced smile that this place seems to love. It's not genuine at all.

She's older, most likely in her mid-forties. Some grey strands in her dark brown hair give me the notion that she has dyed it. Her skin is starting to reach the wrinkling stage, but she still appears relatively young. There's a strong vibe I'm getting from her that I don't entirely enjoy. Though, I'm not sure why that is.

"Kenneth Baker." I shake her hand; it's cold. "I just applied for the open psychologist position."

"Well," she clasps her hands together. "Let's see this application!"

Ella holds out the desired documents, to which Catherine snatches away. There's an awkward silence as she glances over my information. Every inch of my body had tensed up, waiting for her following words.

"I don't normally do this..." she hesitates then continues. ".....but I want to hire you now."

My heart drops. I can't tell if it's out of relief or concern. "You're hiring me without an interview?"

"In this case, yes," Catherine says.

"I-I don't understand," I pry for an explanation. I'm quite baffled at her urgency to hire me. This might be a red flag, but I ignore it out of pure elation.

"Look, Kenneth, I won't lie to you. We are very desperate here since we haven't had a real psychologist for a month or two now," she whispers. "Like they always say, desperate times call for desperate measures."

An inkling of curiosity arises in me. "What happened to the previous psychologist?"

"He found another opportunity," Catherine vaguely replies. "I know you'll enjoy it here at Holmes Chapel Asylum. We treat our patients with the absolute best care possible. Shall we do a little tour?"

"Erm... okay," I agree with an ounce of reluctance.

"Great," she begins to click-clack towards the east wing in her black high heels. I follow behind as if I'm a lost puppy.

Adrian is still waiting for me in the car. I won't hear the end of it when I leave. He'll sound like my father.

However, I have to concede to her tour out of my eagerness. This is all so strange. The fact that she hired me without a formal interview is rare. I've been through numerous interviews for lower jobs. I expected an intense hiring process for a place like this. I guess I was wrong.

We stroll through a large doorway that says Patient Cells above the entrance. There are about five different hallways to choose from, each labeled with different letters; A-F, G-K, L-P, Q-U, V-Z.

The warden turns to face me. "If you didn't notice already, this is where we keep all the mental patients. Each corridor goes by their last name. We also have a directory in case you need to find a certain inmate's room."

"Seems simple enough," I nod.

She cackles, "We have so many patients here. We figured it'd be best to make the navigation as easy as possible."

Catherine's spiel is interrupted by a man shouting obscenities behind us. The two of us whip our heads around to detect where the racket is coming from; it's Darren Walker. My eyes widen at his presence.

"Get the fuck off of me, you pricks!" he barks. A pair of guards forcing him to walk down the hall, holding his arms so tight that they're turning red. I didn't realize he has dozens of tattoos permanently stained on his skin. I never was attracted to an inked body, but he wears them so well.

Snap out of it, Kenneth. They're handling him with such force.

These guards aren't gentle at all. Darren seems to be in pain, and it kills me inside to witness it. No one should be treated like that. It won't help the patient cooperate.
Darren and I make direct eye contact for the second time today.

However, this time, his eyes are filled with sadness mixed with anger. It's as if I can just feel the emotion he's experiencing. He continues to yell as they move past us towards the V-Z corridor.
"They're hurting him!" I meant to think that in my head, but I accidentally said it out loud.
Darren glances back at me, clearly shocked that I spoke up.

Though, it was for nothing because the guards keep using their forceful tactics. As he disappears into the hallway, I frown. Why am I caring for a murderer? This isn't something I should be feeling.

"Sometimes, Mr. Baker, we have to force the patients to their cells." Catherine's voice startles me back to reality. 'It's an action that we don't like to take, but it gets the job done." The warden adds, "Let's continue with the tour."

She seems so unphased at what happened. Any sane person would do what I did. Maybe it's because I'm new to such drastic procedures. This job will take some getting used to.

We leave the patient's wing then head to the other side of the penitentiary. On our visit to the west wing, Catherine gives me a tour of my future office, the chapel, hospital, recreational room, and, finally, the cafeteria. The cafe has multiple guards scattered around the room, ensuring the inmates remain stable and don't try to escape.

Some of the patients groan, some howl, others talk to them-selves. It's unfortunate to see up close. All of these people are stuck in confinement for most, if not all, of their lives. But it keeps the world surrounding them much safer, I guess.

The pale yellow walls distract me for a moment. They're the only bright thing in the room. Catherine taps me on the shoulder and asks, "So, Kenneth, do you think this position will work for you? If it's too much, I understand."

I think I made up my mind the minute I entered the building. There's no going back now.

"Yeah, I can manage," I approve the offer as we make our way back to the lobby.

"I'm glad to hear that," she claps. I can see the entrance of the asylum now. When we're at the front desk, Catherine stops. "Well then, I will see you tomorrow at eleven a.m. for your first day of training. Ella will give you your uniform and such in the morn-ing."

"Thank you so much, Catherine. I'll see you tomorrow," I wave off.

"Goodbye, Mr. Baker," she dismisses as she walks away. "And please, call me Cathy."

When the warden has disappeared, Ella immediately cheers, "Congratulations!"

"Thanks," I chuckle. "Guess I'll have to see your fake smile more often!"

"Guess so," she winks.

With that, I exit the building, joy pumping through my veins. No more scrounging for money or searching the classifieds of the daily newspaper. I did it.

The bright sun blinds me for only a few seconds until my eyes adjust to the light. There aren't many windows inside the asylum. When I can finally see again, the first thing I notice is Adrian has dozed off in the driver's seat of his car.

I can already hear him nagging me for taking too long.