Chapter 4: A Faust Overture
Caden released a long groan as the bright lights attacked her eyes. Everything was too white, like sun reflected off sand in a blistering desert. Her mouth felt dry as the Sahara. Her throat stung as if it had been scraped with bits of rock.
She then realized she was in a bed-which was good, considering she was homeless. It wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but a bed was a bed.
Wait…bright, white lights…uncomfortable bed…
Oh no.
"Where am I?" Caden mumbled, knowing fully well where she was.
"You're at Gotham General Hospital." A masculine voice said. Hm. Male nurse. That's a first, at least for her.
When she opened her eyes, she saw that he wasn't a male nurse-he was sitting in the chair next to her bed. He wore what looked like a designer suit, with slicked back dark brown hair, and faintly familiar dark green eyes. She knew who this was-Bruce Wayne, one of the most, if the the most powerful and rich person in Gotham. She had seen his face from time to time. Why the Hell was he here, in the presence of a recently-homeless woman in the hospital?
"I…what happened?" she murmured.
"I found you stumbling around Gotham, near dead. You passed out and I brought you here." He explained.
"What were you doing in that part of Gotham?" he opened his mouth to answer, but Caden stopped him. "Never mind. I shouldn't ask questions. Thank you, Mr. Wayne. If it was serious enough to take me to the hospital, then I could have died from it." She sat up, stretching. "Oh, God…" she said to herself, hoping Bruce wouldn't hear her. "I guess everything went to Hell, Caden. Good job." She was horribly disappointed in herself. Who cared if her dead mother followed her everywhere? Her mother raised her better then that!...when she was alive...
A nurse walked in, relieved she was awake. "Good morning, hun." She smiled. She was a typical nurse-pretty blond hair, sparkling eyes, an aura of caring and compassion. For just one second, one small moment, she felt a pang of jealousy-Caden was sure the nurse standing next to her looked much better then she did. She shook the thought away-what was there to be jealous of? Bruce…she chuckled in her mind. Whatever…he wouldn't go for scum like me…
"Well, dear, I have some bad news for you…" she bit her lip. "We had no clue what was wrong with you when Mr. Wayne first brought you in, but upon further exploration, we diagnosed you with Addison's disease."
"…what?" Caden asked, voice small. She had no clue what it was, but it rang with malevolence, like Parkinson's disease or Alzheimer's.
"Addison's disease. Don't worry, you won't need a wheelchair or anything." She forced a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "But it is something you'll have forever. Addison's disease is damage to the adrenal glands, glands that secrete three types of hormones-cortisol, aldosterone, and, ah, estrogen…we suspect the damage was caused by tuberculosis, HIV, or a fungal infection. Since we found no traces of HIV, it's either tuberculosis or a fungal infection…?" she seemed to be asking a question.
"Well, I haven't had tuberculosis…probably the latter."
"Alright. The symptoms you had when you came in were paleness, extreme weakness, fatigue, slow and sluggish movement, according to Mr. Wayne, mouth lesions, and you seemed to be very nauseous. We put you on a medication-you should be better now. You'll need to take the medication for the rest of your life, but if you do, there should be no side effects." Caden's mouth was suddenly very dry and wouldn't work right. She had a disease. It was different from having a cold or even the flu-it was something she would have for the rest of her life.
"I…I guess I owe a lot to Mr. Wayne." She chuckled, looking at Bruce. "How can I repay you?"
"You don't need to." He said with a smile. Hm, where had Caden heard that before? Guess chivalry is still alive.
"I'll find a way. Until then…thank you. Really." He stepped closer to her and put a slip of paper in her hand.
"Tell me when you get out of here."
"I will. Thanks again." She smiled. He returned it almost slyly, and walked out.
"Wow. Lucky…" the nurse laughed. "Saved by one of the richest men in Gotham…nice." Caden returned the laugh. "So, any other symptoms besides those mentioned earlier?"
Caden couldn't breath for a moment. This was her chance to tell someone about what had been happening to her-she could get help.
"I…no...I'm fine..." she bit her lip. "No...I know this is a problem a lot of people get but...I keep seeing my mother. She's dead." It embarrassed the Hell out of her to admit that her dead mother was stalking her. This pretty nurse wouldn't care. Everyone had problems like this!
"I see. Here-let me get the doctor." Shit…Caden thought. Lovely. She can tell. She'll bring all the hospital staff in here to laugh to me because I can't deal with something so stupid on my own-
Caden fell against the bed. "Wonderful…fucking wonderful." A few minutes later, a doctor walked in-this time a male one. He was unremarkable-but had a calculating gaze then sent shivers up Caden's spine.
"Hello, Caden. I'm Dr. Coffman. I hear you've been having…trouble?"
"Not really. It's just...distressing to see my dead mother everywhere. I'm sure a lot of people face this...but, I really need to get on with my life, so if...there's anything you can do to help me...?
"Hm...what exactly have you been experiencing?"
"My mother…my dead mother, always there…rotting…" Caden admitted, shivering. "And I know that they're coming for me…they're going to take me away to rot exactly like her…"
"I see." He nodded. "We'll be right back in just a second." Both him and the nurse left the room.
"Fuck…" she sighed. He's probably out there laughing right now...I'm so stupid for thinking they could do something...it would be like asking for a cure for the common cold...
The door burst open. But he was alone.
"Ms. Smithart, I am no psychologist, but I do believe you have a mental condition…"
"What? Oh...oh, no. Really, I'm fine...it's a common problem, but...just some medicine or treatment or...?"
"Ms. Smithart. You have schizophrenia."
"Sch-schizophrenia? Like…multiple personalities?" She raised an eyebrow. She wasn't talking to herself, so…?
"No, those are two completely different conditions. Schizophrenia is slightly different. However, we do think it would be best if you went to Arkham-you were fired from your job from assaulting a customer, correct?"
"What do I have to go to Arkham? You can treat me right here. I'm fine."
"It takes time to cure a condition like this-it isn't an easy recovery."
"What condition? I'm fine. Just give me some medicine like you did for the Addison's Disease..."
"Let me explain schizophrenia. There are three symptoms: hallucinations, paranoia, and delusions..."
"I'm not delusional! There's nothing wrong with me!"
"That in itself is a delusion. You say you see your dead mother...that's a hallucination."
"No it isn't! I see her all the time, every day! She's watching out for me! Like an...angel." He ignored her.
"And...you say "they" will come for you. Paranoia."
"That's because they are!"
"No, they aren't, Caden. But don't worry. The doctors at Arkham will help you."
"Fine...anything to get me out of this hospital." she curled into a ball, pulling her legs up to her chest.
"Don't worry about that-you'll be out of here quickly." Caden felt uneasy with that-was the doctor crazy too? Was everybody here crazy? ...was everybody in the world crazy?
Hmm...is Bruce crazy? No...I don't think so.
She decided to just go with it; let them take her to Arkham and "cure" her. She'd swallow pills and pretend to get better.
Soon, a lady came in with a needle and put Caden to sleep.
When she woke up, she was arriving at a large, black, cold-looking building. On the outside, there was a fake aura of happiness and security, like decorations at a Children's Hospital.
She was still slightly dazed as she was lead into the building. She stumbled as she walked and her mind was lost in a haze. She didn't speak; she couldn't get her lips to move. She only remembered pictures afterwards-pictures of black halls, armed guards, and, most vividly, people screaming and beating on the bars of their cages.
I chose Richard Wagner's "A Faust Overture" for it's dark tones, growing tension, and faked peace.
