"Were you listening?"
Clarice Jones's stone-bitter voice conquered the hallway, as she saw one of the practitioners' medicine was looking behind the window glass. Mark Stein got startled by an unfriendly tone or likely to be sound as his summons to his death note. He was twisting up his full attention to Clarice.
"I'm sorry."
Mark bowed his head as he instantly apologized to Clarice, one of the senior physicians who probably will take him under her supervision, doing specialty training in this hospital for one year.
"A very first day on a proper field, and minds already are wandering around?!" Clarice barked, shooting the death glares at the golden-haired guy.
"I'm sorry, Doctor Jones. It won't happen again. I promise," plead Mark, within his sincere heart. Apologized for his mindless averting attention—because of a distraction.
"You. Follow me."
Clarice stepped ahead with her heels, not waiting up for anyone or even the summoned guy, Mark. Mark extremely obviously confused, glancing at his other colleague from the group, and reared back to Gideon, searching for an absolute reason he was being summoned. Gideon only smiled.
"I am not waiting until you register your brain," said Clarice, turning around to look at stupefied Mark.
"You better not make it into her bad list then."
Gideon recommended, giving a brief nod and glancing over his shoulder to look at Clarice. She had already gone far by now.
"I better catch her up now. I'll go first before I lose her then," said Mark, quickly striding over to be ahead of Clarice. Thanks to Mark's tallest and firm figure, as his legs were longer than hers, he could compete easily with her steps, running after her quickly until he was next to her. After a few moments, he glanced back, looking at the previous place as if the same distraction would be there all over again. And there wasn't any weird presence for certain. He left from there confusingly.
Have I imagined things? Mark thought.
***
Mark squeezed his temples by shutting his eyes close, sitting on a swivel chair in front of his desk, taking a brief rest for a while. On the first day, Doctor Clarice Jones already had done much to his headaches. Long way to go... sigh—
"Rough start?" Someone appeared to sit beside Mark, asking before him. His senior, Gideon Halt, welcomed his sight when he opened his eyes. A skinny guy whose height was almost as tall as him. Gideon went to medical school as well. The guy already had his license upon completion of a residency. He shook his head, responding with a shrug.
"You can tell me, Mark. I probably know how much Clarice's pests could go living up to, believe me," said Gideon amusingly, leaning back to the swivel chair, but his gazes were looking forward to Mark.
"Nothing to worry about yet. And it was indeed my fault that I hadn't paid attention to Doctor Jones's briefs this morning."
Gideon clicked his tongue, sighing at Mark's response, knowing better when not to poke into something fruitless. So he casually stood from the seat and left. He knew Mark was hardly a responsive guy, so as everyone had been saying about him in medical school. This guy certainly had a reputation.
"Well, anyway, you can always come to me if there's anything you want to ask. Or if anything is bothering you, all the way to your practice here. Just pop up at my door then. I'm simply looking out for my juniors. That's all." Gideon stated, patting Mark's shoulder before he was leaving a staff room for all the medical practice in this hospital.
"You? Get caught up by not paying attention? That's odd!" exclaimed Brendan Knight, when he suddenly showed up, holding a strawberry milkshake in his hand. Brendan walked up to his desk, across from Mark's desk.
"Come on! You know how nosy I am as a person. Spill the words, Mark," demanded Brendan amusingly, sitting on his swivel chair. He was the only one who was unashamedly enough to keep bothering Mark ever since they rolled in the same medical school. And then they became friends eventually, thanks to Brendan solely because of his nonstop efforts.
"I—I just saw something. Or to be precise it was... someone...?"
Brendan, who was his only closest friend, raised his skeptical left eyebrow at Mark's unclear answer. And he won't give in just like that. He needs more answers. Obviously.
"Who?" Brendan softly interjected his question again, sipping his milkshake through a straw and looking up to stare at his friend. Mark wanted to say further, but he abruptly stopped, petulantly shaking his head afterward. It was certainly absurd, even at the thought of it.
"It's nothing. Just forget about it," proclaimed Mark, gaining the heavy sigh of Brendan. Usually things again. Mark was a reserved person. Rarely talked about himself or even hard to share his mind with others.
"Okay then. I'll forget about it for now. But serious talk—if anything bothers you... You know you can count on me, alright?!"
Mark nodded to that. It was his regular response toward Brendan. Or most expected things he used to act if anyone said that to him. But it trailed his mind on the previous sight that he accidentally saw this morning.
Maybe because of the nervousness on the first day, Mark thought afterward, chasing out a crummy built inside of his mind.
***
4:45 am, remotely past midnight, and almost reached the dawn, but Mark was still concentrating on his on-call day. All-guard even after he's taking a quick break from coming on-call all night. Mark was left alone, accompanied by a dim light filling the room. He looked so damnly terrified. It was his first-day on-call!
His friend Brendan had finished his shift and was back already, to bury his tiny head on the pillow. It could be he as well, who ended his shift likewise. But likely Clarice wasn't letting him off the crook and slipping away easily after what happened this morning.
Clarice's brainy and wistful allegation as the senior physician gave him a graceful task as a sweet punishment. Doing an exciting on-call. Although it was only his first day of medical practice, she will expect to hear his upshot about it the very next tomorrow morning. Of course, to have his tale inexplicably in black and white at rounds or pimping the next day.
HRAAAAHH!
Mark shook his head to get him back on track after a slight yawn. Well, he arrived in the early morning to fill up the papers back then. And until now, he was still staying up all day and night in this hospital. He could not be at home just yet, poor him. Whenever senior physicians or high superiors want you to do something well, you have certainly to get it done—period!
"Maybe I could use some coffee," Mark mumbled as he stood up from a seat, taking well his very own suggestion. He strode away from the room. Headed to the vending machine, which served hot and cold drinks. He nodded to every nurse past him by glancing at them, submissively walking aside to get to his destination.
Along the way, he unconsciously perceived the same place where is he seeing that uninvited sight. Subconsciously searched up the same presence he was looking in the earlier morning. None. There'd no one or something to be spotted there.
"It was only all my imagination," muttered Mark, shaking his head as he was leading back his steps to a previous destination. He leaned his back on the wall, waiting up for his hot coffee to be done.
"Brendan surely makes a fortune in his past life, having Gideon as for his mentorship. Lucky bastard!" cussed Mark under his breath, reminding himself why his luck wasn't the same as that short guy. He sighed at his luck. Bad luck! He still remembered how Brendan sneered at him before that bastard stormed off after finishing up his shift.
If by attribute a definition of cute was coming along as an innocent baby face and a shorter guy, then it didn't work successfully with Brendan. He was silently cursing again upon his only friend. Yet he wasn't that mad at Brendan or even frustrated at Clarice Jones. Suddenly, he thought of what made him in this tricky spot.
TING!
His hot black coffee was ready-made. Mark took it and slowly blew it into the cup, tranquility. But what came next made him startled? The last thing he expected to see was an unpleasant sight once again. He nearly spilled off the coffee, as he was shocked. This time—he faced too much, even a close gap.
It was the same person who he saw this morning. Or shouldn't be called the person at all.
"You could see me, do you?"
Mark only blinked repeatedly as he didn't answer or utter anything back. He blankly stared at the image in front of him.
"You can see me, right?" Again, the one who stood upright in front of him interjected. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He stepped up from the one who firmly stood up in front of him. By walking through.
Mark could feel the goosebumps all over his body as he went through. He had also heard that person shouting back at him as he mumbled again, "I'm just hallucinating. That's all."
Mark slowly turned around to look back, finding there was no longer a presence. None. No one he could spot as an unfamiliar person. Only a few of the nurses and one or two patients he saw lounging around. He sighed in relief. Then he led his steps back again toward the staff's room where he left unfinished tasks.
He was putting down a cup of hot black coffee at the side of his desk. And he stretched up himself, taking up the scattered papers, back to review it once again. In a split of seconds, he back to being in a serious mode, where his eyes were already focused on the laptop's screen, filling down a brief of every decision he'd made while on his duties. It went quiet until he got shocked by the next thing that happened.
"How dare you to walk through me! I know you saw me back then! And even now!!"
"Shit!!!"
It extremely horrified Mark upon hearing a voice that suddenly comes to be visible, falling hard from his swivel chair. Mark slumped on his buttock on the floor at the cause. He removed the remaining papers from his head, warily looking up just to see a pale skin girl furiously glaring at him. He gulped. Intimidated.
"I was talking to you. And you dare try to ignore me? Where are your manners? Jackass!" That pale skin girl barked again. Mark gawked at her in silence, diverting a blank into a trepidation face. Because of a figure standing right in front of him.
It is workable for him to be a little rude sometimes, but certainly not a total discourtesy. He surely can act civilly. At least, for people who deserve it. Regardless then, if a person encountered a translucent presence, a wispy shape, knowing what to do?
"You're a ghost!"
"No, I am not."
"But I—I just got passed through you back there," squealed Mark, pointing out a forefinger jabbed at the pale skin girl.
"Great. Now you've officially admitted it. You're ignoring me on purpose. What a jackass!"
The pale skin girl walked up to sit on Brendan's desk. Mark slowly followed up by taking the movement of that girl with his eyes. She looked simply fine by her yellow crew neck sweatshirt and the ripped jeans outfit within the messy bunny tail, despite she was actually a spirit of the dead person or whatever that pale skin girl claimed she wasn't.
"Are you going to sit on the floor till morning?" mocked that pale skin girl, glaring at Mark who remained stiff on his spot. He slowly shook his head, but his eyes still looked at the front. It terrified him. Undoubtedly.
"Get up then!"
Felt like he clicked the switch-on button, Mark subconsciously did what the girl ordered him to do. He took all the scattered papers that had switched to the floor now, putting them in his possession.
"I'm in a hallucination. She's not real," muttered Mark under his breath, shutting his eyes. Slowly, he tilted his eyes to wander around the room. Gone. That pale skin girl was no longer there. He sighed in relief once again.
"Is it difficult for you to admit that you could see me?"
Something startled again him at the sudden voice filling the empty room. Soon he came to realize that he went to hide below his desk. He could perfectly hear the laughter after that. Loudly. Well, he was embarrassing himself in front of the girl—ghost, or whatever she was.
"Oh, come on! Even though I was a ghost I am not that ugly," exclaimed that pale skin girl smugly, walking slowly to reach that big poor guy. "I'm Grace," introduced that pale skin girl with a smile, reaching out her hand to Mark when she was kneeling in front of that guy.
Mark only peeked out under the desk, giving out unknown expressions. He was stunned, to be honest, to see her captivated smile. Grace, or whatever the pale skin girl said her name was then. She had a beautiful smile. Suddenly, he felt something sting in his chest.
"I forgot we couldn't touch. Silly me!" chirped Grace, enchanting her eyes upon her forgetfulness. Once again, Mark felt the pressure aching in the chest, like having a heart attack. Crushingly looking at Grace's face. Blankly staring at her.
"Are you going to make me the only one who talks?" asked Grace, feeling completely disappointed at Mark's reactions. She sighed, standing up from a crouched position. She was moving backward to give him some space. Sorrowfully.
"Wait!"
Mark was terrifyingly hesitant, but that word unconsciously slipped out through his mouth. He quickly went out below the desk as he saw the dejected Grace. Somehow, he felt bad suddenly.
Grace, who already opened her steps to walk away, turned around her body again. She turned with a sneering face when she looked at Mark. He became anxious at that view. I think I'm regretting it now! But—I couldn't stand looking at that kind of face.
"I'm sorry! I was so scared and terrified as this is the first time, I'm... well... seeing the ghost," stated Mark as he locked their eyes together.
"I don't know that a big builder like you can also get scared of the ghost," retorted Grace without hiding her laugh.
"You are the ghost then!"
"Told you—I wasn't! The ghost is for dead people. And I'm not dead yet. Only a wanderer soul, grab that at least?"
"Semi-ghost?" Mark tilted his head in confusion.
"Like werewolves? Half-human and half-wolf? Is it even a thing?" prompted Grace, disbelieving of an absurd guy's cessation. Sensing the snide remark, the guy cleared his throat.
"Then, you aren't the ghost?"
Grace idly nodded to that.
"You are not dead yet?"
She nodded again, but she already gotten annoyed by Mark's stupid and useless questions.
"So, you're a wanderer soul?"
Mark narrowed his eyes, blinking, waiting for Grace to answer him again.
"For Pete's sake! Could you not ask the same damn things again?" growled her at last, as she finally reached her limits.
"But how is that possible? And why were you here? In front of me? Why is it I'm seeing you?" Mark threw out all the popped questions inside of his mind, totally ignoring Grace being mad at him.
"Now we're talking," said Grace, schooling her expression to a smirk face, getting the confused Mark afterward.
"I want to ask for a favor," Grace continued as she locked their eyes, beaming her pale skin face. He left, dumbfounded.
***
"Why are you looking like a dead person?" asked Brendan, walking inside to find Mark, who was so keen on his tasks.
Didn't he go home yesterday? Did he spend a night here? On the first day?! Why didn't he say anything? Brendan questioned his thoughts. He went to sit on his swivel chair, cupping his chin with his palms. He stared at Mark, who looked so serious before his screen laptop.
"Mark... why don't you give yourself some slack? Work hard it is good but to work your pain ass hard, isn't healthy either," Brendan advised his uptight friend and very much likely similar to the perfectionist type. Yet Mark was ignoring him.
"Mark!" Brendan called up, as irritated as he would be whenever Mark left him hanging, even though he was just being a concerned friend.
"He's calling you, jackass!" jerked Grace, sitting on Brendan's desk since earlier while swinging her feet.
"You're the jackass one!" Mark grunted under his breath without even looking at her. It was because of that pale skin girl; he was in this state. Now, he was late to finish up his very first task.
"Did you just call me jackass?!"
Brendan perked up one of his eyebrows at the sudden bark from Mark. That guy had to stop doing whatever he was doing, realizing that he was storming off on Grace right in front of him. Brendan surely couldn't see her as he did.
No one's ever seen her like him. None of them questioned Grace's presence in the staff's room from the very beginning. No one could see her. Except him. Mark sighed upon his luck.
"I wasn't talking to you," said Mark testily, looking at the golden blonde guy, Brendan.
"Whom were you talking to, then? A ghost??"
Grace burst out into big laughter at Brendan's remarks. Mark squinted his eyes towards Grace, who laughed her ass off.
"Don't fucking laugh!!"
"Who's laughing?!"
Brendan raised his voice at Mark, acting not like the typical him. Not at all bubbly though it was still in the morning. Mark completely cut down his good mood.
"I already told you I wasn't talking to you!" Mark warily responded, sighing again while squeezing his temple.
"No one here now instead of the two of us!"
Brendan clicked his tongue in annoyance and stood up from the seat. Took the notebook with him, along with the strawberry milkshake that he already brought before that. He still smacked Mark's head before he stormed off from the room.
"I should've recorded that," said Grace, laughing hard.
"It's all your fault. Now, I'm in a big mess. Get out. Go away! I can't even focus on my task because you're constantly bothering me," Mark grunted, feeling irritated and caressing his head. He even shot the death glares at her and made that girl immediately stop her ongoing laughter. She raised her arms as the signal to give in soon after.
"I won't make a sound," Grace stated, jumping off Brendan's desk and walking toward Mark's desk. She hates to be alone. Only Mark could see her, wasn't it pathetic? Thus, she crouched down and rested her chin on Brendan's desk while staring at Mark, who was already back to focus on his laptop. Mark frowned hard upon her stare.
"Your presence bothering me!" Mark scoffed for the last time, sighing again.
"Fine!"
Grace huffed grumpily fading out of the room in just two seconds. Gone.