It had been raining all day, but she was out there.
Fred had no idea who she was, but dang, she was familiar. Like he'd seen her in a magazine once or twice. She had doing this all day, she'd walk up to the asylum, and when she got within ten feet or so to the doors, panic seemed to grip her and see ran back to wherever she was hiding.
Fred couldn't help but wonder if she was really there. He'd been orderly for, what, a year, and maybe the ramblings of madmen where getting to him. He even went out there once, calling "ma'am", "miss", and "HEY LADY!" but to no response, only rain. He heard people, visitors, fellow workers, and the slightly-saner-than-the-rest-patients whisper about him when he came back in. He just sighed, threw on his sweater to keep warm, and continued his rounds, always taking the long way so he could through the main lobby and glance at the doors, just to see if she was out there, nervously making her way towards the doors.
And soon it was time for him to head back to his apartment, rest, try and figure out how to help the more unresponsive patients (Board games, maybe?) and watch some mind clearing television. He stuffed his briefcase full of papers, grabbed his umbrella, and started outside.
"Eh-excuse me, sir, do you, uh, work here?"
He spun around, and there she was. Her hair was dark red, tangled and wet with rain and stress. Whatever makeup she had on was running, mascara causing what looked like black tears streaking down her face. The dark green overcoat made her look twice her rather petite size (Then again, Fred towered over pretty much everyone ever), and he was probably staring at her for many moments before what she asked really sank in.
"Oh! Yeah, uh, I do, and I just got off work, so–"
The last few words didn't sink in with her, because she then started crying, dark tears running down her face, and she managed to sniffle out two sentences before going into full-on sob mode.
"Help me, I beg of you. I think I'm going insane."
Through the new flurry of paperwork, questions, and asylum tours, he learned that the latest patient's name was Gloria Von Gouten. Wait. THE Gloria Von Gouten, actress supreme and lovely singer? What happened to her? Fred had seen her live once, and she was absolutely spectacular, but he heard her latest performances often consisted of her crying and various other example of mental breakdowns. He thought it was just rumors, but oh, it was real, and now he was leading Miss Von Gouten to her room.
The overcoat was back away somewhere else now, the makeup was wiped away, and her hair was a bit drier. It was hard to believe she was a fallen super-star, looking so un-spectacular in her new white asylum gown. Most people would look disgusted at the standard asylum room, the grey concrete walls, the simple metal bed with bleached-white covers, and the barred windows, but no, she grinned and beared it. "Darling, compared to some of my old dressing rooms, this is a five star suite." she said.
He allowed himself to smile and relax a bit. But still, wow, the Gloria Von Gouten, here, of all places.
"Right then. Well, Miss Von Gouten–" he began, looking back down at his clipboard.
"Call me Gloria, darling."
Wow. First name bases already, and she had only been here for an hour.
"Okay, right, well, Gloria. You'll be staying here tonight, and tomorrow we'll give you some therapy, see what kind of medications and types of therapy you need and such, so you should probably get some rest, it's late."
She was already wrapping herself up in her new bed's blankets before he finished his explanation. He smiled, and started to walk out, he just needed to switch off the light, say goodbye, and close the steel door...
"Wait, stop! Can you leave on the light, please? I.. I don't do well in the dark." she said, sitting up in her bed.
He turned to face Gloria. "I really can't, you know. I tried once, but apparently it uses too much electricity and disturbs other patients. I would if I could though." he said. Gloria still looked pretty scared.
"Well, there's always the lights outside, streetlights and such. They're brighter than you think, trust me." he said. Reassuring a mental patient was nigh impossible, but dangit he tried.
She pulled the covers closer around her. "Streetlights and such. Right. I.. I'll be fine. G-goodnight Mr. Bonaparte."
"'Night."
The light switched off, the door was shut and locked, and Fred was finally ready to go home.
It was five A.M., barely 6 hours after meeting Gloria, and Fred was awoken from his couch with a call from the asylum. Trouble with one of the patients, come quick, blah blah. Just like every other morning.
But no, it was worse than every other morning. Between the police and ambulance, he learned that one of the patients got lose and injured three staff member. Worse than that, the patient was Gloria. Eventually, he found her, shivering and bound in a straight jacket somewhere in solitary confinement. He shoved aside a few guards and ran to her, crouching down to talk to face her.
"Gloria? Can you hear me? What happened? Did they hurt you? Are you alright?" among other worried questions flowed from his mouth.
Her eyes focused on him, cutting him off in mid-question. "I told you, I don't do well in the dark!" she snapped.
The Gloria Von Gouten, of all people. Wow.
Wow, my first multi chapter work. I'm proud of myself. Anyhow, who should I do next: Edgar or Loboto? I'll try to make Edgar's sort of sympathetic with a twinge of sarcasm, while Loboto's story will just be as disturbing as I go. Teeth being pulled with no laughing gas, eek!