AN:
English is not my first language, so please forgive any wrong grammars or wrong words - but please let me know, so I can improve.
This is my first fanfiction, so feedback would be really appreciated!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
A firm, brisk nurse with short but energetic steps is escorting Kurt from one end of the hospital area to the other. She has got a tight hold on his bag with one hand, the other hand clasping to hold the woollen knitted cardigan together in the wind. Kurt is numbly walking two steps behind her, too tired to care about their surroundings or watching were he's going. He follows obediently, what else can he do?
The nurse – Kurt thinks maybe she had introduced herself, but his mind is too clogged up for anything new to stick at the moment – stops in front of an old, yellow bricked building. She goes for the door bell, explaining who they are in the speaker, and the door is buzzed unlocked for them. Kurt reads the big sign on the ground next to the entrance. "Building 17. Psychiatric emergency ward."
They walk up the stairs to the next floor, and the corridor seems old. Dusty, worn, boring, neglected, in desperate need of some TLC, tired. The corridor looks the same way Kurt feels.
A big blue door with a key card lock greets them. The nurse pushes the door bell, and shortly after a person in a white uniform opens the door and lets them silently in. He escorts Kurt and the nurse into an examination room, and motions for Kurt to sit down on the examination bed. The nurse who had walked him from the ER explains she has to go back to her duties, but that Kurt will be taken good care of here, and she hopes he has a healthy recovery before she wishes him good luck, and disappears. Kurt is left with a face he can't remember having seen before. He can't swear it's a stranger; the last 12 hours are just a blur of faces, names, questions, medical equipment, sleep, insomnia, poor food and relentless examinations. Kurt feels alone. Lonely. Again. As usual.
An elderly woman enters the room, reaches out her hand to Kurt and introduces herself as Margaret.
"We try not to stay too formal here, and stick to first names, if you're comfortable with that". Her smile seems genuine, and reaches her brown eyes. Her head is tilted slightly as she gives Kurt a warm look. He just shrugs his shoulders, meeting her eyes quickly, before looking down again.
"Well, Kurt, I know you must be tired, but unfortunately we have some procedures to go through before I can show you your room. First I'm obliged to go through your bag to make sure you haven't brought anything forbidden. I know you haven't been told what's on that list, so don't panic, this is just normal routine, and people always bring things we can't allow into the ward because they don't think about them as dangerous. Is it OK for you if I open your bag and check your things?"
Kurt nods slowly, shortly. Why did she even ask, if it was compulsory routine? What could he have brought that was banned? Did he have anything in the bag that was valuable to him, and something he didn't want to be without? Honestly, he didn't know. His father had packed the bag, and at that time Kurt couldn't care less about what his father would choose from his wardrobe and bathroom. He still wasn't sure if he cared, although he knew he should care. After all he was Kurt Hummel, stating his personality and identity through his fashion and how he chose to meet the world. Yeah, he was Kurt Hummel. Once upon a time. Right now he didn't know who he was anymore.
Margaret closes Kurt's bag after it has been thoroughly checked, and shows a small pile of stuff they will have to confiscate, but she promises he will get it back as soon as he is signed out of the ward.
In the pile, Kurt identifies two belts, some glass bottles with skin care products, dental floss, the chargers to his iPod and cell phone, his razor and the vitamin pills.
"Do you mind being without these things?" Margaret asks softly. Kurt just shakes his head. He hardly believes he's in a position to object, and honestly he doesn't care.
"Good", Margaret continues. "Now we want to do a quick health check on you. I know you've been in the ER all day, but we just want to make sure you're still fine", she says and places a stethoscope to his heart after warming it with her hands first. She slides the stethoscope down Kurt's hospital shirt, still unbuttoned in top from the last heart check. Kurt just sits there, having nothing to say or nothing to do. Nothing really matters, nothing is important enough to care. He just wants to get this over with, and crawl into a bed, hopefully get some sleep, and maybe disappear from this world for a while.
Margaret continues to check his blood pressure, and Kurt doesn't even wince when the sphygmomanometer tightens hard around his biceps.
"Are you hungry? Would you like anything to eat before you go to bed? Supper was served before you came, but I can make you some sandwiches if you want", Margaret offers. Kurt declines silently, politely waiting for a bed he's really longing for.
"OK, but if you should want anything, we are here all night, so just find us in the corridor or in the commons room, and we'll get you what you need", the nurse reassures. "So here is your room, and you find a bathroom down the hall".
Kurt enters through the door Margaret has opened for him. He takes three steps into the room before turning around to her, smiling strained and small to her, but enough for her to smile back. "Someone will come by around 7 in the morning for a blood sample, but don't worry about that, you can sleep while they take the blood if you want to", she says and closes the door behind him.
He puts his bag on the only chair in the room. There's a hospital bed, a small night stand with a small drawer, and a narrow wardrobe. Should he pack out of his bag? How long is he staying for? Kurt doesn't remember anyone telling him this. With a sigh he opens his bag to find the pyjamas and toilet bag, determined to settle for some sleep now, maybe he'll unpack tomorrow.
Kurt carefully opens the bathroom door. It's heavy and squeaks annoyingly, and Kurt panics a little when he can't find any lock to the door. There's nothing under the door handle, which he would have expected it to be. He looks around frantically, wondering how he possibly can uphold some privacy with an unlocked door, when he finally sees the small hook on the upper half of the door.
The sweatpants fall to the floor, and are replaced by his pyjamas pants. Then Kurt starts unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. He carefully brushes his cuffs, looking at the bandages that are under. It actually feels kind of surreal. He did that. He went so far. And now he's here. Mental house. Asylum. The cuckoo nest. How did that happen to him? Kurt brushes over his goosebumped arms as he takes off his shirt, feeling cold run down his spine. The mirror reveals a pale young boy, dark circles under his red shot eyes, distant with a dull expression. The young boy's lips are sore from chewing, and his hair is askew. He seems so familiar, but it strange to Kurt. Where is he?
Kurt turns around to face away from the mirror before he finishes dressing for night.
Back in the room he was assigned, Kurt places the toilet bag next to his nightstand, before slipping under the white covers of the sterile hospital bed, trying to avoid all the levers and handles that will adjust the bed to positions he never can relax in.
He lies on his back, starring up in the ceiling. It's so far away. It's a really tall room, and Kurt watched mildly amused at the plastered ceiling decorations which clearly haven't been taken into consideration when new rooms were put up in the old building. Three sides of the ceiling are framed with a Greek inspired plaster lining, and the fourth side has got half of a big plaster ornate flower – the other half probably continuing in the neighbour room. Kurt starts counting angles in the lining so far up away from him, while he lies still on his back, hands over the cover, head on pillows and he waits. He waits, wondering what this night might bring.