A/N: Well folks, here is the collaboration between HeartofDarkess and I. We have had a great time writing this and bouncing ideas off each other to create a story that gives us an insight into how Alice came to be a vampire. I had the concept swirling around in my head and we decided to co-write this story.
I would like to thank my co-writer HeartOfDarkess and she will be posting this story in her profile as well. This story has been amazing for me to do with HeartOfDarkess because we both like similar stories, and we care about trying to write stories that our readers will find truly captivating.
Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight, or any characters, however we've only used one or two in this story and made up the rest!(so we do own them!..lol)
Please read and review as we've been burning the midnight oil on opposite side of the planet to collaborate on this story and would appreciate your feedback! We will add another chapter if you guys tap those keys! Enjoy!
Remember reviewing makes us happy!
I stood there in the rain, waiting for someone to answer the door. Of course, they took their time. I could hear distant mutterings and footsteps echoing through the hallways, intermingled with a few tortured screams, though no-one seemed to be nearing the door. I waited, staring up at the sky, reassured by the inclement weather, though annoyed by the large drops of rain trickling down the back of my neck. Under the circumstances, though, it was just as well there was no sunshine to speak of on this day. As I stood there waiting, I noted that there were no guards at the unlocked front gates of this place, and though this was only the third asylum I had worked at, that in itself was unusual.
Finally, after incessantly knocking for what seemed to be several moments, the large wooden door creaked open, and a robust woman dressed in a nurses uniform stood there, blackened teeth and piercing dark brown eyes the most prominent features in her round, crinkled face. She looked me up and down and frowned as our eyes met. "You Harper?" she muttered coldly, somewhat distracted by my gaze. I had become accustomed to that, but what shocked me was her demeanour.
"Yes, Dr Charles William Harper at your service," I replied with civility, nodding my head slowly. "And you are?"
"Tired and hungry," she replied rudely.
Seemingly unimpressed by our conversation, she turned at retreated, leaving the door ajar and said curtly, "This way." I hoped that she made a better nurse than conversationalist. I followed silently, locking the door behind me, her scent a pungent combination of body odour, mould and rotting animal carcass, masking anything more appealing.
I passed through an archway which led to a desk, where another nurse sat, sorting through patient records. I noted that security seemed somewhat lax at this place, with staff seemingly disinterested in the comings and goings of complete strangers. The large nurse disappeared down the hallway beyond the desk, grunting at the other nurse as she passed.
I had been told many things about the State Lunatic Asylum and its dubious reputation, but nothing had prepared me for this. I ran my fingers through my blond, damp hair to expel the excess water, and stood there, waiting.
I cleared my throat, prompting the slightly built, pale nurse to acknowledge me. Taking her time, she finally looked up at me and spoke. "You must be Dr Harper," she whispered, her voice high pitched and meek, one which grated on my ears as if it were fingernails clawing down a chalkboard.
"Yes. I am here to see Dr Grayson. I assume he's expecting me?" I queried, unsure as to what the system was here regarding appointments. There seemed to be no system at all, in fact.
"This way," she said as she stood from behind the desk, pointing towards the door behind where she sat. I followed the slight woman, who had not introduced herself, down the dank, dimly lit hallway. The hallway had arched doorways connecting either side, that were mostly locked but some had empty quarters, baths and examination rooms within them, which appeared dark and desolate. This institute, once brimming with both male and female patients when first constructed no doubt, now appeared reduced in number to an exclusive few.
The nurse continued leading the way down the dismal halls, her thick heeled shoes making soft sounds as she moved across the dull tiles. I took this time to glance around, noting details that would have gone unobserved by anyone else. This Institute was not as old as some of the others that I had worked in, but it appeared to be more derelict than most. Small things had fallen into disrepair, and paint had been left to crack and peel in some places, but they all lent to the neglected feel of the building.
I stopped as we approached a large wooden door with dirty glass windows. The nurse slowed and took out a large ring of keys from under her baggy sweater. The woman turned and spoke once more in her grating voice, "Patients are not allowed to pass through this door unless accompanied by a doctor, or an aide. They only come out of this area for treatments and sessions."
I thought about that, assuming that these treatments were probably similar to others I had witnessed. These places favoured treatments like hydrotherapy, restraints, alcohol and drug therapies, and some Asylums were now starting to incorporate electro shock therapy into their schedules.
So many maladies being treated with the same repetitious methods. I sighed deeply as I waited for the woman to finish fumbling through her keys, and finally unlock the door. Once we had passed through the doorway I could see another desk. There was a man in a white uniform sitting at the desk looking over piles of papers with a bored expression. His garb labelled him as some sort of orderly and his scent was a combination of musk and strawberries, a smell totally out of place in this dank building. He had a radio playing loudly on the desk, but even the strained tones from it could not drown out the sounds from the wards of the institute.
Moans and wails punctuated the air, the sounds high pitched and guttural, as if the building housed animals instead of human beings. But the sound that struck me most was the heart wrenching sobs that overwhelmed me with such an intense sadness. This place reeked of suffering and depravity. This was not unexpected, as most facilities like this seemed to be similar in philosophies, but somehow this place appeared excessive in its soullessness. Patients were people that others could not cope with, or were embarrassed by. They were not acceptable to society for oddities and unusual behaviours that in other circumstance, with the care and understanding of those around them, would be considered merely eccentric.
Many patients were also perfectly regular folk with irregularities that were deemed unacceptable. They were normal people who were devastated by the loss of their homes and families, everything they knew and held dear, once they were placed behind institutional walls such as these. These were the people that I felt I could save, somehow helping them to overcome their grief and loss, and was the reason that I chose to be of service to these godforsaken places.
The orderly glanced up, and seeing us standing there he reached over and turned the music down to a more appropriate level. He glanced at the nurse as if wondering why she had intruded upon his work, and she spoke in her grating voice. "Dr. Harper is here to see Dr. Grayson," she trilled to the orderly. She moved over closer to his desk and batted her eyelashes at him as she continued. "I am so sorry for disturbing you Mr. Smith," she simpered.
The young man looked at her, not bothering to let his glance linger as she tried to be coy with him. He turned to me, ignoring the woman who tried to discreetly fawn over him without being completely unprofessional in front of me. He stood and leant over the desk, holding out his hand to shake mine, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Harper. My name is Lucas. Please let me show you to Dr. Grayson's office." I extended my hand out to him in response, thankful that I had been mindful to wear gloves today for just such an occasion, and gently shook his hand.
Lucas turned to the nurse and waved her off muttering a half hearted, "Thank you Nurse Whitefield," before quickly walking around his desk and turning back to me. "This way please, Dr. Harper," he said, gesturing for me to walk beside him. As we walked, Lucas pointed out which wings of the building were for which sort of patients. He explained, that like many other institutes, men and woman were housed individually with separate nurses and orderlies working with each group. This particular building housed female patients, each wing containing women and young girls with different issues, from phobias to mental paralysis.
As we walked, the sound of our footsteps within the halls began to be drowned out by the increased din of the patients, whose tormented voices sounded nearly child-like in their tone, their innocence belying the foreboding reality of this place. Cries, screams and whimpers increased in their volume and clarity as we neared our destination, seeping underneath windowless locked doors, echoing down the hallways, finally ending in a whisper before they could reach the outside world. A world that these poor souls could only ever dream about.
Lucas picked up his pace as we approached the end of the hallway, seemingly anxious that I be out of his hair and on my way. A heavy mahogany door sat majestically at the end of our journey, its colour and warmth defying the cold, unkempt surroundings. It seemed so out of place here. The words 'Dr. Isaac A. Grayson', inlaid in gold, sat proudly atop a small intricately etched glass window within the door, indicating in no uncertain terms who was in charge of this place.
A shiny bronze doorbell, polished to perfection, sat directly below the small window. Lucas promptly rang the bell, its high pitched noise reverberating down the hallways, causing me to flinch. The sound of the bell echoed down the hallway, its tone silencing some of the voices that had been vocalizing their unhappiness only moments before. Muffled footsteps came from behind the door and shadows of light and dark were noticeable through the refracted glass as we waited for the good Doctor.
The door swung open, and I was greeted by an elderly grey haired man who in his younger years would have stood well over six feet tall. Now, with his shoulders hunched inwardly, the look of years of work here had apparently worn the stature of his tired body down. Thick eye glasses sat at the end of his nose, indicating that without them, he would be legally blind. I noted his right eye was clouded with a cataract, the blue clarity of his eyes hidden beneath.
Lucas stood there silently, waiting for someone to speak, his uncertainty causing me to feel a tinge of discomfort. "You must be Dr Grayson," I said, breaking the silence, extending my hand to meet his.
He stood there motionless, staring quizzically at Lucas, who finally introduced us formally, speaking slowly, with a raised voice. "Dr Grayson, this is Dr Harper. He's the additional Doctor you requested for the night shifts."
Realisation hit him as his face broke into a warm smile, his soft voice kindly. "Ah, yes of course. It's very good to meet you Dr Harper." He took my gloved hand in his and shook it gently, his fingers slightly contorted with rheumatoid arthritis. His scent was as aromatic as a woodland forest, with so many combinations of smells that it was impossible to discern a prominent individual aroma. It reminded me of my simpler days as a human. As I stared at the frailty of this man, I realised the reason behind his request to retain my services.
I raised my voice slightly to accommodate his hearing impairment. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Dr. Grayson," I replied respectfully. Even though this man appeared frail, his reputation for dealing with patients with kindness and tolerance over the years was one of the reasons I chose to accept this particular post.
As we released our grasp, he said, "Thank you Lucas," waving his hand in dismissal. He looked at me over his glasses and said, "Please, do come in." I followed him through the door, closing it gently behind me. His office was well decorated, spacious and lined with timber bookshelves, brimming with every medical journal and article that, I was convinced, had been published in the last twenty years or so. His mahogany desk took pride of place in front of the etched glass windows, which had the exact same pattern as was in the small window of the mahogany door.
Though the furnishings were of a high standard, the walls had indications of peeling paint, just as was in the hallways and other areas of the institute. He walked over to the desk and took his seat, sinking into the olive green leather cushion which padded the chair, brass tacks holding it in place, surrounding the chair all the way to the top of the high back as it curved around his shoulders. "Please, take a seat," he urged, indicating his hand to the matching olive green chair which was similar but had a lower, straighter backrest, on the other side of his desk.
I sat there and watched him pick up my file, switching on his desk lamp as his eyes strained to read each and every word. "I see you've worked in the asylum down in Texas," he stated, appearing impressed by my experience as his squinting eyes skimmed over the pages. "It is unfortunate that the powers that be saw fit to close it down," he continued, shaking his head slowly in disapproval as he turned his face up to meet mine.
"Yes, it was rather unfortunate that funds were unavailable to keep it open any longer," I replied, having had many recent run-ins with administrators who could not see past the dollars and cents, uncaringly and inhumanely allowing hospitals to fall to ruin, displacing many patients in the process. "However, I am pleased that my circumstance has now cleared the way for me to offer my services here, Dr Grayson."
"Yes, that is certainly a positive outcome for our institute. We are a small, but tightly knit team of professionals here Dr Harper and I am certain you will do well to fit in." He closed my file and placed it in a drawer beneath his desk, and smiled. "You will in time come to meet the treating doctors here, who vary their shifts according to patient demand. Your job, of course, will be to monitor outcomes of treatments administered and advise of further treatments required, as with recent resignations the treating doctors are more pressed for time."
"Of course. Would you be able to make patient files available for me to peruse?" I requested.
"Yes, Nurse Whitefield is preparing them for you now, and your first order of business will be to study those files thoroughly. We don't take patient care here lightly, and have a reputation of being diligent in our courses of treatment," he remarked authoritatively. I thought about his statement. Of course, I knew better. But I also knew that I had to work within the confines and restraints of human medical knowledge, even though it was flawed in its interpretation. Particularly in this place, which had recently gained the dubious reputation of dolling out treatments indiscriminately.
"I have been told you have semi-retired. That is certainly a loss to the profession," I said humbly. With that statement, he opened up somewhat and told me a little bit about himself.
"That's very kind of you Dr Harper. But, I have my family and my health to consider and so I can only participate in the running of this institute as an Administrator. Of course, as patient numbers have greatly depleted and my health has deteriorated over the years, so have my working hours. I have had to increasingly rely on the treating doctors to pick up the extra workload."
I sat there, frustrated, wondering what the doctors who he had placed all of his trust and knowledge in faithfully had done to the people that were housed here. I knew the reputation of this place and I had read about Dr Grayson's groundbreaking work over the years, and realised things just did not add up.
I watched distractedly as the drops of rain hit the window and ran down the glass unevenly, following each pattern down its etched features as I thought. There were times that I questioned my faith in humanity over the years, and now it appeared as though this kindly doctor had allowed the proverbial wool to be pulled over his unseeing eyes by persons unknown. I decided that I would like to get to the bottom of this, and perhaps try to help turn things around here. That would be my mission.
"Would you like to see your office?" he enquired, noting my distracted demeanour as he stood.
"Of course," I replied, nodding slowly in reply as I stood, the chair scraping loudly on the timber floor as it caught the corner of the olive green rug which dominated the floor.
He smiled and indicated his hand towards the door, waiting for me to exit.
I stood, being careful to push my chair back into place. I was worried that the elderly doctor's failing eyesight might miss the fact that the chair was not in its usual place, and that he might injure himself on it. I then moved forward watching Dr. Grayson as he followed, pulling the elegant door shut behind us.
We moved in tandem down the hall. I shadowed him in the facade of letting him lead the way. It gave me a chance to observe Dr. Grayson as he walked. He shuffled along as he walked, using his feet subtly to feel his way along the hallways. It was obvious that his vision was far worse than even I had realized.
Dr. Grayson pointed out sections as we passed them, though I was not sure if he clearly saw them, or if had memorized their locations so thoroughly that he simply knew where they were placed. The deeper we delved into the building, the darker it seemed to get. Less light was provided from the now only occasional windows, and more light was provided by the harsh lights that were spread out in uneven locations.
The sounds of the patients increased as we moved along the halls, shrieks punctuated the more constant moans that drifted down the corridors.
Dr. Grayson's steps slowed, and then stopped as he turned towards an aged door that had seen better days. The door was a plain pine door that had been poorly stained with uneven brush strokes. Unlike Dr. Grayson's door, with its clouded glass windows, to give the office an air of privacy, this door had a sizable, soiled window that allowed any person to see inside.
A quick glance revealed a medium sized room filled with box upon box of unknown contents. It appeared that this room had been used mainly as a storage room rather than an office, and the tremendous clutter hid whatever furniture the room might contain, save a large wooden desk. Dr. Grayson opened the door, and gestured for me to enter, which I did, wrinkling my nose against the smell of mildew and decay that permeated the space. It appeared that the elderly doctor's sense of smell was failing as well as his eyesight, for as he entered he did not seem to notice the foul odour that now surrounded us.
His eyes did take in the clutter though, most likely due to the fact that it was directly in front of him, and he apologized for the state of disorder that it was currently in. "I must apologize for state of your office Dr. Harper. It appears that a grievous error has occurred on our behalf. I will have someone clear it out immediately," he said, speaking softly.
"Not to worry," I interjected quickly. "I can clean it up in no time. It's nothing that a bit of time and elbow grease cannot quickly set right," I said with a smile, knowing just how quickly I could remedy the situation compared to an orderly who would take hours to do the same job. In addition, I was intrigued by the information I might be able to glean about the Institution from the contents that others may have long since forgotten.
"Are you sure?" the elderly doctor questioned, his tone uncertain. "Yes, I am most certain," I responded with assurance. I was sure that the good Doctor was uncomfortable at the idea of me having to do such a menial task that seemed below my station, when an orderly could do it just as easily. "Besides, it will give me the opportunity to set up my office the way I find most efficient," I finished, attempting to set his mind at ease.
The doctor consented with a slight nod of his head, though he still seemed unsure about the suggestion, but he chose to continue speaking rather than to debate with me. "Your office is located here to allow you unrestricted access to the patients, to observe how they respond to their treatments. This allows us to adjust their therapies accordingly, increasing, decreasing or discontinuing altogether, depending on the need of each individual patient," he explained.
"When Nurse Whitefield brings you the updated patient roster, and their files, I hope you will look them over and take some time to see each patient. It would be good for you to get a feel for each of them, and for the situation that brought them to become a resident here."
I nodded that I understood, and then added a quick "Yes, Dr. Grayson," in case he has missed my unspoken response. "Very good," he replied. "Is there anything else you need, Dr. Harper?" he asked, his eyes bright with inquiry. "No, I think it would be best to roll up my sleeves and get started. No time like the present, I always say!" I said in exuberance with a bright smile. I turned and slipped off my coat, hanging it on a metal bracket on the wall. Then I removed my gloves and began rolling up my sleeves to get started.
The Doctor watched me for a moment than responded, "As you wish Dr. Harper. I will be leaving shortly for the day, if you should require anything, please do not hesitate to ask any of the nurses, or aides. Dr. Halston should arrive in a few hours, and he is in charge of administering evening treatments for the patients that require them. He can answer any questions you may have." Dr. Grayson nodded in my direction, an acknowledgment, but also I surmised, a dismissal. Then he turned and shuffled away back down the hall.
I turned and gave the room a more in-depth look. Underneath the boxes sat a variety of useless furniture. In one corner, under stacks of folders, full of paper there was a phonograph. I hauled it out first and fiddled with it until it started to emit soft strains of music from the bevelled horn. Much better I thought. And with that, I set to work.
Even with the music on, my acute ears picked up the sounds and smells around me. The muffled cries, the chanted words, the stagnant smells of urine and chloroform all served as a reminder of where I was and what I was destined to do. As I moved things around, sifting through boxes, I sorted and identified each voice, and footstep, knowing that as I looked around later I would be able to associate the sounds with the faces as I met each patient.
I allowed myself to move at my speed, blurring around the room sorting things out, and removing the offending things that were causing the worst of the smell in the room. What would have taken a typical person many hours to do, I had finished in only half an hour, and that included time to look through the boxes and read through files that dated back over ten years. There were definitely advantages to not being human, even if it had its downfalls as well. I opened a stiff old window that had been painted shut, using my enhanced strength to break the bond of the paint to the wood in a simple movement, thus allowing fresh air to circulate into the room for the first time in what must have been many a year.
With time to spare before Dr Halston's anticipated arrival, I stood for a brief moment, staring out the open window which had rusted iron bars surrounding its dilapidated, peeling frame. I switched off the music and took in the sounds of the bustling streets in distance, intermingled with the local birdlife. Though the outside world surrounded this place and was only a hairsbreadth away from my window, the patients here were imprisoned within their own minds, a place much harder to escape from. As I pondered, I hoped that somehow I could allow them to break free of their mental shackles and even if my thoughts were unrealistic and foolhardy, I would never stop dreaming of the day when that would occur for each and every soul here.
The only other sound in the room was the soft ticking of an oak and brass Mission mantle clock which sat, out of place because of its working order, atop the black granite mantelpiece. The mantle surrounded a modest fireplace that appeared not to have been lit in many a decade, not that a warm hearth would be required for my comfort or survival. I sighed deeply at the thought of my situation and the precarious personal battle I had fought against my ingrained instincts for near a century, hoping against all hope that somehow my existence would make a positive difference to the poor humans who resided here, and not a deadly one. I glanced to the right of the hearth towards the corner of the room, where a brown leather low backed chair sat. Though the leather was cracked, the padding seemed in order and would make an adequate prop as though I never needed to sit down, I would require a chair to appear that I did.
I carried the chair back to the desk and placed it proudly behind there and as I looked down, I noted a partially opened drawer beneath the desk which contained some old quills and ink, blank paper and a small bottle of spirits and a rag. I took the bottle in my hand and removed the cork stopper, the scent burning my nostrils as I poured it out to soak the rag completely. I began to remove the grime off the table, moving once again with lightening fast speed, and removed the dirt off the windows, including the one in the door. I hesitated and wondered if that a perfectly clean window in the door would be a good idea, considering that if anyone were to gaze through it presently, they may get a little more than they bargained for. I smiled warily at that prospect, remembering that the area in which my office was housed was quite isolated from the rest of the hospital, and that patients were the only living beings close by who were confined for most of their time here.
With that thought, however, I heard distant footfalls coming down the hallway, their tenor indicating that of Nurse Whitefield. Just as I heard the steps, her scent wafted briefly under the door, a mixture of cinnamon and nutmeg surrounding me. Though both scents were pleasing to the nose individually, they made her smell sickly sweet in combination. I wrinkled my nose, trying to repel the smell which had now combined with the bottle of spirits in my hand. I replaced the cork and threw the dirty rag into the fireplace, it no doubt making good firelighter if I ever felt the need to use it. Of course, it was Autumn at the moment, but with staff here seemingly dressed warmly, I knew the fireplace would need to be utilised soon as part of my facade.
A light knock came at the door as the nurse peered through the window briefly, her eyes then averting and grazing the perimeter of the glass in amazement as she nearly dropped the armful of files with shock. I smiled reassuringly in return and gestured my hand, beckoning her to enter. I decided that a small curtain may be in order for that window after all.
She opened the door, mouth gaped open, her eyes scanning the office in wonderment as she stepped through the doorway. Of course, there was no simple explanation to the cleanliness and order of the office which had just one hour ago been in a state of dereliction.
"Doctor, this looks so much better!" she exclaimed in her high voice as I studied her eyes, not a hint of suspicion within them. "I've never liked coming into this room to file, and now it seems so much brighter." She seemed somewhat innocent in nature, and oblivious to anything other than that which affected her directly. I was relieved as to the selfish nature that this woman projected.
"Yes, well, it is amazing what a little bottle of spirit and a rag can do, along with plenty of elbow grease," I replied with humour. "Could you please put the files on my desk?" I requested.
Ignoring my request, she said, "I know of a spare lamp, though it is an oil one, which is in one of the other storage cupboards. I can get it if you like since you will be working here at night," she said, suddenly shivering. I sensed that even though the room looked brighter, she did not relish ever being alone in this room. The disturbing sounds of the patients, which I could block out with little effort, must seem haunting to a human no doubt.
She walked slowly to my desk, scanning the room as she went to place the files down, but as she did so I heard the unmistakable noise of paper slicing through the skin of her right index finger. I shuddered, briefly closing my eyes in concentration to resist what was happening as the files slipped from her uninjured hand and thudded on the desk, while she briefly placed her sliced finger within her mouth soothingly. This served to allay the scent of her blood and bring my urges under control, however I still needed to be rid of her.
"I have removed the archives that you had here and placed them in the corridor. You may want to arrange for them to be placed in the other storage room that you spoke of," I said quickly, encouraging her to go, immediately holding my breath after I spoke.
Her finger in the way, she suppressed a giggle and said, "I am sure that Luc...Mr Smith would be more than happy to assist me." Her blood, unlike her scent and voice, was more than tempting, however this woman's unprofessionalism was disconcerting to say the least as she stood there gnawing on her finger. Then, she remembered that she was in fact at work and added, "Dr. Grayson will be along shortly."
Trying to put as much distance between us, I walked around the desk and sat, my hand motioning for Nurse Whitefield to leave. She nodded her head in silence and quickly walked towards the door, her finger still in her mouth, to my relief. As she closed the door I exhaled heavily, relieved that the smell of blood was completely gone from the room.
Though my thirst for humans was mostly dormant within me, I had not fed for three weeks due to my travels to reach this place, and a lack of suitable game. And though this place was more than filled with its share of rodents, I tried to hunt larger animals to sustain me, only seeking the blood of a rat as a last resort. Tonight, at this place, I may be required to use that most unpleasant option.
I looked at the stack of files, fifteen in all, and glanced through each one as I calmed myself.
I moved round my desk, files in hand, deciding to sit as I studied each one, just in case someone should happen by. It would be much more human of me to sit in the ancient chair for however long it took me, than to stand in the centre of the room. Ever vigilant at keeping up appearances, I did what seemed most suitable to blend in.
I laid the files on my desk spreading them out. I was determined to sort them based on priority; those that are real medical ailments, as opposed to those who were hospitalized to keep family secrets hidden. I sat down taking the top file in hand.
The file gave a very simple description of a female patient in her mid twenties. Her name was Charlotte Jones, and she was 26 years of age. The person of contact was a Mr. Lawrence Jones, conceivably her husband. Reason for admittance: acute melancholia. I looked over the facts on her file and pushed it away, placing it off to the left side of my desk, where I was compiling the files of the patients that I wanted to investigate first.
The next file belonged to Minerva Wiseman, she was 62 years of age. There was no contact person for Mrs. Wiseman. Reason for admittance: suffering from dementia. I pushed this file off to the right, not that her care meant less, but her age might be a contributing factor to her condition.
File number three belonged to a woman named Hazel Dayton. She was only nineteen years old. Barely more than a child. The contact person was listed as Mr and Mrs Orrin Dayton, probably her parents. Reason for admittance: trembling fits, causing her to become immobile. I placed this one off to the left, I had seen a similar case in another hospital, and had seen wonderful progress with the treatments I had witnessed there.
File number four belonged to a woman named Eloisa Brinshaw. She was twenty eight years of age. There were numerous contacts for Miss Brinshaw. Reason for admittance was listed as deviancy. This struck me as odd, for that surely couldn't be considered an actual ailment. I added her file to the growing stack on my left.
As I continued sorting through the files, I was struck by the imbalance. The pile on the left held a vast array of woman who suffered from an odd variety of ailments, whereas the pile on the right had only a few patients who suffered from the most basic of conditions. I sorted the files from top to bottom, putting them in order of priority.
As I was finishing I heard a heavy set of foot treads coming down the hall. I didn't look up, knowing that most humans would not have heard such a light tread, and instead I glanced back over the files. The footsteps stopped outside of my door, and a light knock resonated from the other side.
"Please, come in." I responded. I glanced up to see Lucas opening the door. In his arms he held a lantern that had seen better days. "Um ..." He spoke hesitantly and said, "Nurse Whitfield asked me to bring this to you?" I heard the question in his tone, and smiled, as I knew that he must be wondering if she had asked him to do something for an actual purpose or if she had simply been seeking an excuse to talk to him. I was grateful that he had come in her stead, and quickly sought to put him at ease.
"Yes, of course. She said here was a lantern I might be able to use." The relief on his face was tangible. I smiled my gratitude in his direction. "She seems very anxious to be of assistance," I noted, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. "Yes, she always seems to be around when you need her," he said, the words somewhat forced as he strode forward hesitantly and placed the lantern on my desk, catching my attention fully. I could tell by his body language that the nurse's advances were not appreciated by this seemingly nice young fellow.
I glanced at Lucas as he shifted nervously from foot to foot. He seemed reluctant to leave. Perhaps, I thought in amusement, he does not wish to run into a particularly annoying nurse. "Lucas?" I asked quickly. "Yes, Dr. Harper?" he responded brightly. "Would you mind showing me the patients' quarters?" I thought he might feel more at ease if I accompanied him out into the halls. "Of course, Sir," he said with a relieved sigh. I stood up, and after placing the files into the drawer, I moved over beside him, gesturing for him to lead the way.
Lucas paced along the hallway, and I followed him as we moved through a few further hallways. Lucas stopped and pointed down a lengthy corridor. "This is the woman's residential wing. This is where they sleep and go for recovery after treatments," Lucas informed me. I looked down the corridor, noting eight doors on each side. "Are they all occupied rooms? All sixteen?" I asked, confused momentarily. "Yes, Sir," Lucas answered quickly, his glance shifting off to the row of door on the right side.
Then why did I only have fifteen files?
As if he could read my mind, Lucas explained, "I believe there's a new patient that was abandoned here late yesterday. Dr. Halston has her file, and will probably brief you on that patient when he arrives. She was left here just before the shift change, so the treating doctors have not had the opportunity to properly assess her yet. She apparently won't let any of the nurses near her."
"Ah, I see," I noted as I nodded my head once. I could now hear each and every voice as clear as day, most of them muttering to themselves as they ate their supper alone in their confined rooms. The scent of them all swirled within the corridor, blended with a noxious overtone that I assumed was whatever vile concoction they were forced to consume. They were reasonably quiet as they ate, and as we approached the doorways, I suddenly stopped at the last one on the left. No sound came from within the room that would be audible to human ears, just heaving breaths. Panicked breaths. I could sense that they were coming from the far corner of the room, but not a sound came from the poor girl's lips. Fear seemed to seep from the behind that door, permeating through the immediate area. I noted the placement of the door and mentally made a promise to myself that I would visit this patient as a matter of priority.
"I believe this is where the patient I spoke of has been accommodated," Lucas said. "I'm about to have some supper and then I will arrange to remove those boxes. Dr Harper, would you like me to arrange for some supper for you?" he asked kindly.
At times over my decades of existence, I had been forced to eat human food as part of my facade. "No thank you," I replied as I grimaced at the thought of forcibly swallowing something with such a pungent odour. "You have to work this evening?" I enquired, subtly changing the subject.
He nodded once and replied hastily, "Yes. There have been a few staff that have left this facility over these last months, and many of us have been asked to work extra hours. Having you here will certainly make a great deal of difference. I just hope we can keep the remaining staff we have, now that you're here," he commented further.
"Not that I mind working extra shifts." Lucas added quickly. I mental took note that as we spoke, Lucas's eyes tended to move down the corridor lingering frequently upon a door midway down the right side. As he spoke about working extra shifts, his voice had taken on a new tone, almost a wistful note. I wondered what it was about that particular door that drew his attention. I reminded myself to look further into that situation.
I also made a mental note to take it upon myself to discuss the staffing issues that were obviously causing difficulties at this facility. I had fought many battles in the past regarding this very matter and the lack of empathy and understanding on behalf of the administrators never ceased to amaze me.
Suddenly I heard rapid footfalls, and an unfamiliar scent surrounded me. A man approached, wearing a white coat and holding a file in his hand. I assumed that he was Dr Halston. As I was about to introduce myself to him, he stopped me, shocked, in my tracks.
"WHAT are you doing here LUCAS?" the man shrieked. "And, who is THIS?" he added, a cold unfeeling tone to his raised voice as he glanced at me, and then stared back at Lucas disdainfully.
Lucas hunched his shoulders in submission to this poor excuse of a man. I instantly took a dislike to him. Within less than a second I sized him up. He was tall and lanky with limp brown hair and black rimmed glasses. His eyes, magnified through the lenses, were piercing and dark, nearly black in their sinister appearance. They had no emotion to them whatsoever, and they were not dissimilar to a thirsty vampire's eyes. Of course, his human scent of lilac and tobacco gave him away to be human, along with his heated skin and thudding pulse point at the base of his throat.
Lucas stared at me silently with a look of apology on his face and whispered, "This is Dr Harper. Dr Harper, I would like you to meet Dr Halston."
He turned toward me and grinned evilly, the smile not touching his eyes as he stared at me up and down. His teeth were brown, a legacy of his smoking habit no doubt, his breath fowl with it. "Ah, yes," he replied in a caustic voice. As I was about to acknowledge our introduction he added mockingly, "So you're the waste of time and what little funding we have that has been brought to this hospital by the good Doctor? Stupid old man," he muttered under his breath.
I did not speak for a brief moment, as I was rather taken aback by this man's demeanour. I shuddered to think of what his bedside manner would be like. I decided to use my best manners toward this man, knowing full well that if I did not, I may regret my actions. So, in turn, would he.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," I replied as I reluctantly bowed my head in submission, allowing him to feel more of a man than he deserved to be.
Lucas gasped as he fidgeted with his hands, his eyes darting towards the end of the corridor. "Thank you for showing me where the quarters are, Mr Smith," I said to Lucas formally, hoping he would not be blamed for being somewhere that he possibly did not belong. "I will be fine from here," I added, relieving him of this man's disrespectful behaviour.
The clattering of a trolley, one squeaky wheel requiring oil, interrupted our exchange. The stocky nurse who had, for want of a better word, greeted me at the front door of this facility pushed the trolley along the corridor, keys in hand as she glanced our way. Her scent pounded my senses, its smell somewhat similar to my office prior to my recent improvements sans the animal carcass. Perhaps she was in need of a bottle of spirits to decontaminate her odour. I smiled briefly at that errant thought.
"Gretchen," said Dr Halston as he nodded towards her in acknowledgement. I found it odd that he seemed to treat her with more respect than that of Lucas, or even a colleague such as myself. Perhaps they had something in common, I mused, and perhaps it was their utter disrespect for others that bound them together.
Her round faced softened for a moment as it broke into a smile. "Doctor," she replied nodding her head once. "I see you've met the interloper," she added, her smile immediately gone, looking at me with a sense of disgust and suspicion.
Ah, yes of course. I was the cause of their unity. The interfering newcomer. An outsider who threatened their protected existence. I pondered briefly and realised that this was going to be an interesting post, and my arrival must be an attempted catalyst behind some changes that may be occurring in this place in the very near future. I smiled once again at my realisation as I watched her open the first door to her right, picking up dirty wooden dishes which lay on the floor and throwing them randomly onto the trolley. I surmised that she was also the cook of this facility.
He did not answer, but instead turning to Lucas and said coldly, "You'd best be on your way then." Lucas glanced at me, his brows knit together in confusion as he turned and walked back down the corridor. I did not fail to notice that as he made his departure he slowed as he passed the same door I had noted earlier, tilting his head, as if to listen for sounds emanating from the other side.
Finally, Dr Halston turned to face me once again. "Well. Best we get on with this," he hissed in frustration, no doubt wanting nothing more than to be rid of me. I, of course, felt the same way toward him. "We are close by your office," he said chuckling evilly. "I am SO very sorry we did not have time to arrange for it to be cleaned, so I am positive you will need the time to organise that."
"Not to worry. We can meet in my office, though there is still some work to do there," I said, lying somewhat. Of course, I was more than happy with my office and only required one more chair for meetings with this man.
He stared at me, his pitch black eyes narrowing. "Really?" he asked. "Well then lead the way DOCTOR!" he said, the sarcasm dripping from his tongue. In another time and place, I would have been at a loss to justify preserving this man's life. There did not seem to be one shred of humanity left within him. We strode back towards my office, his position as we walked always half a pace ahead of mine. I shuddered at the thought of what sort of vampire this man would make.
As we approached the entrance to my office, I opened the door and said courteously as I extended my arm to show him in, "After you Dr Halston."
The look on his face was priceless. His eyes widened, the blackness of them dominated momentarily by the bloodshot whites. I smiled, trying to suppress my laughter as I watched his mouth gape wide open at the very surprising sight of my office.
I strode confidently towards my desk and gestured to him to join me. "Take a seat Doctor. I only have one chair at my disposal, which you are more than welcome to use," I offered, pulling the chair out for him.
"Err. Of course," he replied awkwardly as he hesitantly walked towards the desk and sat, placing the indistinguishable file on the desk. I walked over to the corner and retrieved a small table, sitting myself on it beside him.
"Now, shall we discuss the newly admitted patient whose file you have first?" I asked, staring at the file next to his hand.
He stared at me suspiciously, no doubt wondering how I had any knowledge that such a patient existed as he possessively placed his hand on the file. "I do not see the point as we have not assessed her, however, to expedite the process I do not see any harm in you accompanying me to OBSERVE my diagnosis." he stated, reminding me of my place in this institution. Finally making civil eye contact with me, he let out a deep sigh, no doubt realising that I was here to stay. "But, I can tell you what I know," he offered further in concession.
"Thank you," I replied humbly, as he took out a pipe and a small leather pouch from his breast pocket, along with a book of matches, and untied the thin leather strap which held it closed. He stuffed a small wad of tobacco into the pipe and lit the match on the first attempt, placing the pipe to his thin lips and inhaling as the smoke billowed, filling the room with its disgusting odour. "This patient was abandoned by her parents just yesterday," he stated as he opened the file. "From what little information they gave before leaving in quite a hurry, this patient is prone to fits. The patient has already attacked a nurse, so we have not allowed anyone else in the room since then."
He offered the piece of paper to me to read. The name at the top of the page, Mary Alice Brandon, jumped out at me and caused me to gasp faintly. Mary was the name that my wife, Elizabeth, and I were going to give to our unborn child before it killed her during childbirth. A century of unspent tears attempted to pool behind my eyes, tears which would never be shed, as I recalled how I was unable to save them, the dimness of the memories not assisting in the pain that they caused.
The doctor coughed briefly, as a result of inhaling too much smoke, his reddened face bringing me back to the present. I sensed that his lungs were heavy with tar as the sticky mucous rattled his lungs and threatened to escape his trachea. My eyes skimmed the notes on the page, which were written hastily by the attending staff member, Nurse Gretchen Beauregard.
Patient Mary Alice Brandon: Admitted on the fourth day of October nineteen hundred and eighteen. Age: approximately eighteen (no date of birth supplied). Parents: names not supplied.
The patient was left by her assumed parents, stating that they could no longer cope with her fits and blackouts, along with other mental anomalies that they refused to elaborate on. The word "insane" was used by said parents to describe her ailment.
Patient attacked treating nurse upon arrival, the episode occurring immediately after her parents left the facility.
Nurse G Beauregard.
"Gretchen was only able to take a few notes as the patient attacked her, forcing her to leave and attend to her injuries," he said as he carefully watched me read.
"Was she injured greatly?" I asked, an expression of concern on my face as I stared at him.
"A few scratches on her arms and a bite mark on her hand," he answered.
I pondered his statement and wondered if the patient's tendency to fit had something to do with the attack on Nurse Beauregard. I have had experience with such ailments, and have come to discover that the only treatment is to ensure that the victim has a clear area in which to see out their fit. Of course, human treatments have ranged from straightjackets to biting down on various items. I surmised that the nurse was attempting to restrain the poor girl, or at the very least place her fingers within her mouth to needlessly free her tongue, hence her injuries.
"We can discuss the other patients tomorrow evening if you wish. I think that it is a matter of priority that we give this patient a thorough assessment, wouldn't you agree Doctor?" I asked respectfully as I handed him the page.
He immediately stood, grabbing the page and placing it within the folder. "Yes, well, of course," he replied as he blatantly tapped the ashes from his pipe on the desk and placed it and the pouch back into his breast pocket.
"After you," I gestured once again, ignoring his behaviour.
