Claire stood at the entrance of the building. The dark, imposing figure of the facility cast a long shadow over the well-kept lawn and partway down the stone walkway. Gathering her courage Claire stretched out her arms and cracked her knuckles. It'd taken so much time to find this place. She didn't want to waste the effort, but she was still hesitant. Would all her hard work be for naught? Her last hope was here. All the others were in hiding, or gone. Claire shook her head, as if to jostle the thought straight out of her brain. She rolled her shoulders back and forced herself to walk to the door. Somewhere in the distance the sound of a rusty swing set squeaked, but Claire didn't hear it over the pounding of her heart.
She pressed the button for the intercom and a nondescript voice called out for her identification. Claire rattled off the fake identity that she had become in order to infiltrate the building. The click of electric locks sounded and Claire smiled, remembering who she was there to rescue. An overly bright light slowly appeared as the door was open by a spindly old woman, complete with horn-rimmed glasses.
"Dr. Robbins?" the woman croaked, "Right this way. You'll have to excuse the extreme security measures, but some of the patients... are quite dangerous, as you well know." Claire was ushered into the almost blinding white light of what seemed to be a small waiting room, the smell of sterilized medical equipment hung in the air, and the click of Claire's heels rang out loud against the brooding quiet.
"No. It's, uh, quite alright. I'm actually impressed with the facilities so far. I'm grateful to even be here." Claire turned her head around as she said this, trying to take in as much of her new surroundings as possible. From what she could tell it looked just like one of those stereotypical mental hospitals, with clean white walls, white tiles, the green potted plants. Yet Claire could still feel something odd about the place, more so then what she had been warned about.
"Yes. Wait here. I have to check your visitation papers and clear you with security." With that the old woman scuffled away, leaving Claire to nervously wait, in the waiting room. She stood still awkwardly for a few moments and then went and sat down next to the fern in the corner. It wasn't long before Claire was flipping through the month old gossip magazines, that were resting upon the table near the chairs. By the time the crone returned Claire was deeply immersed in the land of celebrity gossip and intrigue. The old woman gave a slight cough and Claire looked up, quickly dropping the magazine back to the table.
"Is everything all set?" She asked the batty looking woman.
"Ah. Yes. I didn't know that you were going to be looking at a possible patient transferal, but the organization trusts you and your contacts, so there shouldn't be a problem. Would you follow me please?" The woman lead Claire over to a bar door and placed her hand upon a scanner.
"That's right." Claire replied, "Not that these facilities are ill-equipped to handle such folk, it's just that there are some patients that respond to... more personal care." At this the other woman just nodded and motioned for Claire to follow her. The two fell into silence as they walked down the corridor. Doors lined the white walls, each one with small brass numbers along the top and a much longer number written on a paper in the place holder in the center of the door. 31849, 31704, 11679, 00456. Claire eventually stopped reading them as the numbers turned into a blur in her mind. The walk grew long and she gave up trying to remember which way they had come. Claire was just about to try and make some conversation when she heard it. Something that sounded like a scream. Claire furrowed her brow and listened more carefully and it came again. Louder this time. As if they were walking towards the maker of the noise.
"What is that noise?" Claire asked sharply.
"Oh that? You'll see. Some of the patients are not as, well, receptive to treatment as others. Hopefully with your methods you will be able to help Patient 29690. We've had little luck with her. Ah. Here we are. Room 150." The lady stopped by the door and motioned for Claire to stop. She swiftly moved towards the door and a control panel popped out, which she typed numbers into and then a click indicated the door was open. Claire involuntarily took a few steps forward as the door swung open. Though still protected by another door made of metal bars Claire could still see into the room.
There, in the center of the brightly lit room, bound in a straight jacket, sat Elle. Claire watched in horrid fascination as a drop of water feel from the ceiling and hit Elle. The following scream made Claire flinch. Electricity crackled and jumped around the room, obviously coming from the woman in the middle of the room. This eventually faded, but Elle remained where she was. Claire turned to the woman who lead her inside, who made no indication of this being abnormal. Claire's stomach seemed to drop and she turned back to look inside. The lights had been shorted out by the increased electricity, so the only light in the room came from the outside. The only thing Claire could see clearly was a pair of bright blue eyes, staring at her from the dark.