H&S: Story Of Dorothy Oneshots

Pt. 1 Dorothy & The Murdered Patient

Dorothy immediately sat upright, eyes bulging. The dream was so vivid, so unbelievably real that she just had to be sure. Everything was the same, clean as it always was. She heard the beep of her smartphone on the table in the corner, and took a few moments to calm herself and run her hand shakily through her ponytail before checking on it. A text message had appeared on the notification bar, from an unknown number.

'Hello Dorothy. Did you enjoy your nap?'

A chill swept down her spine as the woman realized she didn't even own a smartphone anymore. Wasn't allowed one in this facility. Her lips quaked, and her eyes read the message a thousand times. Her thumb kept hovering above it to type out a reply, then shying away. A slam echoed out as the asylum guard rudely barged into her room. She dropped the phone as she jumped and turned in his direction.

"What are you doing?" The guard snapped, wearing a white coat much like a scientist's. He had thin glasses perched on his nose and brown hair, not to mention a stern look on his face. He hadn't noticed the clatter of the device against the floor, so Dorothy nudged it under the table with her foot's heel. "It's lights out in exactly five minutes, so get to bed. I'll be locking the door. Remember to switch the lights off."

Dorothy squeaked out a timid response, wondering why he had to be so hostile when she was just idling, and watched as he closed the door behind him on his way out. She heard the lock, and the sound of his feet shuffling away. She swiftly bent down to retrieve the phone, opening up the message again and wondering who it could possibly be from and how it got there. Was it a gift from extended family and no one told her, just set it there while she was in therapy or something? Wait... How did they know she'd just woken up from a nap?

Dorothy scrutinized the ceiling corners, finding no cameras installed.
A brusque knock on the thick silver door with its small barred window made her sharply turn. Another guard's beady, hawk eyes pierced hers as he gruffly commanded, "Lights out." Dorothy, hiding the phone under her white gown in a low-key way, scampered over to the light switch and flicked it off. The room drenched itself in darkness, and the guard outside the door, or sliding double doors to be precise, gave a satisfied grunt before leaving. The disturbed redhead crawled into bed, hiding the phone under the cover with her. She half-expected it to notify her of another mysterious text, but it didn't. After an hour or two of daydreaming about her former life, she finally fell asleep again.

Dorothy's torso snapped forward, cover falling off her head, a shiny coating of sweat glistening on her forehead. Hot breaths puffing out her mouth. Eyes darting to and fro. It wasn't a nightmare that woke her up, but rather the harsh pounding on he room door scaring her back into consciousness. She felt her phone bump against her hip as she slid off her bed, peeling the cover back. Could it be one of the guards? She looked at the clock, the hands had stopped moving at three o'clock. Something felt wrong about the entire situation. She could hear the wind howling outside her barred window, still fogged over.

       Dorothy neared the door, approaching cautiously as the knocks grew more urgent, angry. Her throat was drier than sandpaper. She didn't know what to say... She ended up not having to say anything. An enraged voice full of madness and derangement spoke instead. It was so loud, more deafening than the knocks, and abrupt that she jumped back and cried out in fear.

"OPEN THE DOOR! NOW!"

Dorothy whimpered as she staggered backward. Whoever this person was, they sounded rugged and mentally-unstable. Not like they wanted to have a friendly conversation with her. This had to be a patient, and apparently a very strong one. The door rattled, she could hear the lock being battered endlessly, weakened, and she knew she had to escape. Dorothy looked around frantically, and caught sight of the vent. She rushed over to it, kneeled, and pried off the fan to reveal a safe gray passageway out of that mess.