Welcome, to the Asylum.
A smile on the patient's face. It's what we Nurses long for in this Hospital.
"Thank you, so much, Nurse Brennan." Marco's mother was on the verge of tears to see her son able to go home.
"It's our pleasure." I reply to her, "We take joy in what we do here, and to see a patient well enough to be discharged makes us overly happy."
I smile, yet it is that same, continuous fake smile I wear every day. Marco's mother had lost interest in me, anyway. Marco was the centre of attention for her. He only spent 12 months here at the Hospital. There are patients who have been here for over 5 years. It's a little over dramatic to see Marco's mother overexcited to see their child.
"Say thank you to Nurse Brennan, Marco."
Marco looks up at me, tears welling in his eyes. He lets go of his mother and runs over to me and hugs my waist. Marco was only ten years old. Even I get emotional when I see younger patients being discharged. It means they are able to live their life to the best of their ability. His tears wet my black pencil skirt, but I don't mind. I've had worse than just tears on me before.
His voice is muffled, but still audible. "Th-thank you so much, Nurse Alex."
"You are very welcome, Marco."
He parts from me and goes back over to his mother. We share our last goodbyes and they exit the Hospital. Once they were gone, the foyer was eerily silent. The sudden silence makes me feel uncomfortable. I swiftly move over to the front desk, checking if any patients needed attention. Today was such a slow day, I felt as if something were bound to happen that would change the vibe of this Asylum completely.
I pick up at least ten clipboard folders, all of which the daily check-ups of patients have been completed earlier today. Dropping them back down again, I sigh. Was there any work to be done in this place?
Nurse Rose entered the office, and she seemed as bored as I was.
"Nothing to do?" She asks in her casual British accent.
"Doesn't seem to be any work at all." I reply, nicely.
Nurse Rose wasn't my favourite Nurse. However, she did know how to get the work done. It's just her perfect porcelain face, and neat, purple dyed hair, that always makes me think she's in the wrong profession.
She goes over to the coffee machine, and begins making herself a cup. She doesn't offer me one. She knows I don't drink coffee.
"I'll just do my rounds, then." She exits the room, taking her freshly brewed coffee with her.
Since Marco has been discharged, I take the initiative to clear out old files in the filing room, across from the main office. As I travel over there, and I take Marco's files I kept for the consultation I had with his mother earlier before.
Hardly ever does this room get cleaned. And, you can tell. Filing cabinets half open, papers scattered all over the floor. You could say one of the patients came in here and trashed the place, but they didn't.
I turn the light on, and take a deep breath. I'm the only one who attempts to clean this mess-house. And I get it spotless every time I clean it, but within a month's time, it goes back to looking like this. I can't really get mad at the Nurses, though. They need to be in here and out within minutes, they don't get time to clean up their mess from finding the file they want.
I don't realise how much time had passed, but it must've been at least afternoon by the time I finish cleaning the File Room. It wasn't perfect, but it sure as hell was better than before. I exit the room, taking one last glance at the tidiness of it. I smile and walk back over to the main office. For some reason there were around four nurses, all crowded around the table.
"What's this?" I ask politely. Lunch is supposed to be taken in turns, so there is always three staff at most on duty.
"Oh, there she is!" Nurse Cristina jumps out of her seat, and the other two Nurses move out of the way as she comes over to me, extending her arm out at me, dragging me over to where she was seated before.
"So, we got a phone call from the local Police Station," Cristina continues, "and turns out we're going to have a new patient! How exciting, right!"
"Do we know anything about this patient?" I ask her knowingly, and calmly.
She realises that she was overreacting a little, so her next words are professional and strong. "We believe his name is 'Frank', and he was found by police on the streets of Seattle, and they bought him here in Manhattan a little over two days ago."
"Interesting. There are Institutions in Seattle, though, right? Why did they move him here?"
"I was in contact with one of the Nurses from the Seattle Institution," Nurse Abbey broke her silence from behind me, "she said that Frank had been to that Institution already, but he escaped. She said that they don't want him back, ever. She really emphasised that 'ever'."
"That's a bit harsh, though," Rose joins in on the conversation, "I mean, that can't be the only reason why they don't want him. It's not hard to contain someone."
I look down at the paper in front of me on the table. Only small notes were written on the blank page, most likely what the Police told us over the phone before I came.
Frank __? - Male - 24 years old – Diagnosed with Haphephobia and Chronic Mania.
To be admitted later today.
"They're bringing him today? Don't you think that's a little..." I try to find the right word, "sudden?"
"It's what they arranged, we can't argue with that. The Police have a higher status, Alex." Rose groans.
"I'll get a spare room ready, then." Abbey decides.
"Good idea," I agree that we should be ready for when he arrives, "Rose, go with Abbey, please. Cris and I will do paperwork."
Abbey doesn't seem too pleased with Rose going with her, but she doesn't complain. They leave the office and travel into the main part of the Asylum to find a spare room for our new patient.
"They didn't say a time this afternoon?" I ask Cristina, as I go over and find a blank admission booklet for Frank.
Cristina continues making a coffee for herself. "Nope. But I'm guessing soon. They didn't seem like they wanted to keep him."
"And, this is all the information you got?" I find an admission book and go over to the table where I was at only moments earlier.
"Yeah, they said they were going to give us the paperwork from the Seattle Institution but I can't really guarantee that will happen."
I don't say anything to add to the conversation. I need to focus on what I can fill out in this admission booklet.
First Name: Frank Last Name:
Age: 24 years
Sex: Male
Date of Birth:
Town of Birth:
I couldn't answer much more in the book. I give up and put it aside. What I found more interesting right now was the diagnosis the Seattle Institution gave us. It's odd to have a Chronic patient with Haphephobia in a patient so young. I wouldn't be surprised if I found Schizophrenic symptoms within Frank.
24...I'm 22 years old, now. We may have some things in common, maybe even he might trust me in ways so I can cooperate with him through his diagnosis and medication. I would help a lot more than Rose, Cristina or Abbey. They're all over 30. I'm the youngest in all the staff, yet I am the head boss. There's over 15 different Nurses in this Institution. My age is why many of the younger patients are given to me to look after. Especially the children.
Cristina interrupts my train of thought with her voice, "I think they're here."
Three loud, prominent knocks echoed throughout the Hospital's foyer and front office.
'So, it begins,' I think to myself, 'Bring it on.'
Me and Cristina's clinking of our heels, fills the silent halls of the foyer. I was terrified, I could feel my knees shaking, but it isn't as noticeable as Cris' shaking hands. She reaches for the knob of the massive door, and opens it.
Outside, the sun shines bright. Almost bright enough that I have to squint to see the three men in front of me. Two on either side of Frank, I assume, as he isn't wearing a Police Uniform. The two officers have a hold of handcuffs around the boy's wrists, which instantly makes me feel so sorry for him. No matter how insane someone is, physical force isn't the answer. Frank stares at the ground, his dark hair is covering his eyes. He wears a blue checkered flannel shirt, and dark jeans, accompanied with a space grey cardigan around his waist. I didn't see anything wrong with the boy's physical state. He seemed healthy. However, this is a mental Asylum. The outside isn't always a reflection of the inside.
One of the Police Officers begin to speak, "We're here for a drop off. I assume you got our call."
Those words struck my heart. They don't even acknowledge Frank as a human being, they just say "here for a drop off". Thankfully, while I'm in my state of shock, Cristina introduces herself.
"Hi! Welcome. I'm Nurse Cristina, but most of the patients and staff here call me Nurse Cris. May we take any belongings you – "
"There are no 'belongings', Miss Cristina. We are simply here to drop off. Now, if you excuse us." The Police officer goes to take the handcuffs off Frank. However, it didn't go to plan. As one of the officers went to reach for the handcuffs, Frank violently moved away from the officer, and kicks him, sending him crashing into the rose garden next to the front patio of the Asylum. The first words I hear out of Frank's mouth were soft, yet aggressive at the same time.
"Don't...Don't touch me. Have you not read my papers?!" His voice is a lot higher than I imagined. Almost as if he was trapped in a woman's body. It couldn't be, though. He obviously was male; it says on his papers.
The partner of the other Police Officer carefully walks around Frank to collect the other. The officer helps his partner up and he says thank you on behalf of them both and they leave over to their car out the front of the Hospital.
They drove off, and Frank hadn't changed his position from looking down at the ground. I try and make an effort.
"Frank, right?" I smile at him, keeping my distance. Unlike the Police Officers, I have read the papers, and as much as I'd love to take those handcuffs off him so he can feel more humane, I respect him too much to evade his personal space.
His eyes avert from the ground, right up to me. He was shorter than me, but without my heels, you could say we're the same height. We share a short stare into each other's eyes, but he diverts his eyes back down, almost as if realising that he was staring at me and didn't want to give anything away. Cristina gives me a sceptical look, but shakes it off and offers toward Frank to show him to the therapy room.
He shuffled his feet over toward us, and in through the doors of the Institute.
"Welcome to the Asylum, Frank. I promise you that your stay will be pleasant." I let him walk past me, and he glances up at me one last time before following Nurse Cristina to where she was heading.
I keep mental notes of his curiosity he's showing in his facial features when he looks at me. No patient has ever looked at me with such curiosity before. He hasn't looked over at Cris once since him being here. I wonder what has got him so interested in me.
As Cristina opens the therapy and consultation room, I get her before she walks in with Frank.
"Hey," I grab her arm so she doesn't follow him in. "Do you mind if I take over? I want to see if I can get him to cooperate with me, since I'm close to his age. Why don't you check over on Rose and Abbey and see how they're doing? You guys will have to take over soon anyway, as my shift ends in a little over an hour."
She stares at me. Blinking a few times, and then agrees to go along with the plan. "If you get killed, it's not my fault, okay?"
"He's in handcuffs, Cris." I roll my eyes at her.
"Oh, yeah." She nods at me, and wishes me luck.
I take a shaky deep breath before entering the therapy room. When I enter, I close and lock the door behind me, just in case. I see Frank has made himself as comfortable as possible with his hands tied to his front, on the couch lying on his back staring up at the ceiling.
I go over to the desk at the side of the room, and take out a key from the top drawer. Running through my head how this was going to play out, and different alternatives of each way I was going to give him this key, I decide on the one that involves less actions and words.
Taking the clipboard with Frank's documents and papers I go over with the key out in my hand and sit across from him in the other chair. The coffee table in front of us was clear glass, and empty, besides a cup of water, most likely from the last patient that was in here. I place the key on the table without the slightest noise.
I break the silence that filled the room, "Frank, there's a master key on the coffee table for you to unlock your handcuffs if you wish at any stage in this meeting, okay?"
Frank shuffles in his space, over to his side, so he's lying to face me and the key, yet still lying down. He gives the key a long stare before reaching for it with a shaky arm. He looks up at me again and he hesitates. There's a moment of nothing until I realise he may not want me looking whilst he unlocks his cuffs. I look down at my clipboard, and I begin to write things down that I kept the mental note of, from moments earlier.
I hear faint clicks of the handcuffs being unlocked, and I smile at the fact that I was right. I put down my clipboard onto my lap, and I notice the handcuffs and key were neatly placed on the coffee table. I let that conversation go, and jump into the real business of why we're here.
"Okay, so I have only a few questions for you. It's just so we can fully admit you here. Is that okay?"
Frank doesn't say anything. He's back in his original spot, laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. I take a breath and ask the questions anyway.
"Okay, so your name is Frank, correct? Do you have any knowledge of a last name?"
There is a moment of silence, and just as I was about to just give up and ask the next question, I hear his voice echo in the room.
"Iero. I-e-r-o."
I quickly take the notes before I forget it.
"Thank you," I say this in a calm tone. I can't rush this, "Date of birth by any chance?"
"June 27, 1992." His voice is plain, and stale. But I can't blame him. These questions are plain and stale.
I write this down. At least he didn't lie to me. I kept reminding myself that once I finish the boring questions, we can go into more depth and meaningful conversations.
"Just one last question. Where were you born?"
He hesitates on this one, and I can tell he's lying when he says, "Seattle."
But I write it down anyway, as I need something there so I can admit him into the Hospital. I change my papers around to a blank notebook page, so I can write notes with anything I find in this next conversation.
"Okay, Frank Iero, how did you manage to get yourself here, what happened back in Seattle?"
He refuses to answer this question, as all he gives me is silence. So, I decide to go into more detail of his opposed mental illness.
"Frank, do you believe you are insane?"
"I wouldn't be here if I weren't." The instant reply almost scared me. His voice was a lot harsher and lower now. A little like the Police incident earlier.
I hide my true emotions, as I have to every time when I'm with a patient.
"In the past few days have you been feeling, nauseous, anxious or dizzy at all?"
Just as I was finishing my sentence, there is a knock at the door. Partially annoyed, I go over and open it for whoever it was. With my luck, it was Nurse Rose. She motions for me to go out of the room for a moment.
"What is it? Can't you tell I'm busy with a patient?"
"Alex, do you realise you've been in there for three hours with him? What on earth have you two been doing?!" She gestures dramatically and I become slightly more irritated.
"I was just consulting. I can continue tomorrow. My shift was long finished over an hour ago, if I've been in there for three hours. If you excuse me, I'm going to go home. Make Frank's first night a pleasant one, will you?"
"Yes, Nurse Brennan." Rose scowls at me.
I ignore her attitude. I go back in to the room and I find Frank hasn't moved at all, still.
"Hey, Nurse Rose is here to take you to your room, now. You will be in good hands with the night nurses. You can trust me on that."
Frank stands, and walks out of the room and toward Nurse Rose. I hate to put his life in the hands of her, but I have no choice. She's the night Nurse for tonight and I can't do much about it.
I watch as he is taken away by Nurse Rose up the steps, into the halls of the Asylum, where other crazies lie restfully in bed, wasting away their days whilst we continue attempting to cure them. Sighing, I watch as they disappear up the spiral staircase and I go back into the front office to collect my bags and keys.
Work tomorrow starts at 11am, which means I should be able to stop off at the liquor store, maybe get some red wine so I can cook dinner and have a rest. Something to get this new patient out of my mind. I swear he's playing with my mind, piece by piece, every time he speaks or looks at me.
HP#>6Y|[
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A/N
Hey, I'm back with a new story! Don't forget to comment and vote, so I know who's reading, please! It would make me very happy.