Undefined Reality
CHAPTER 2 - Trouble at the Hospital
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Author: Ravena Kaiou
Email: KakyuuStarLt@aol.com
Genre: Horror/Supernatural
Anime: Gundam Wing
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, paranormality, OOC, language.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The rights to it belong to Sunrise Animation, Bandai, and a few other people I don't know about.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Dr. Catherine Bloom looked down at her patient's case file. "Name, Duo Maxwell," she read aloud. "Source of injury, assumed self-inflicted."
The pretty redhead's grey eyes involuntarily flickered down to the bloodstained bandages that covered Duo's face. Plastic surgeons had frantically tried to repair what was left of his face, but chances were that the massive scarring would just make the whole situation as bad as it was when he first came in.
She shuddered as she recalled the bloody pulp that had been lying on the gurney as the braided boy was rushed into the emergency room. To her, it was unthinkable that any human being could inflict such pain on themselves. No, Catherine Bloom sensed foul play. And in the case of this particular doctor, the Queens police usually found that enough grounds to start an investigation.
Since anyone could remember, Catherine had been afflicted with strange headaches and visions. Test after CAT-scan could offer nothing even remotely close to an explanation. There was no tumour, no abnormalities that could be seen.
It wasn't until one of the radiologists pulled the then-five-year-old Catherine aside and asked her to describe what exactly she was seeing that her family began to put the pieces of the puzzle together.
"Catherine? Is there anyone in the room who you don't know?" the radiologist whose name, quite unfortunately, had been lost in Catherine's memory had asked.
Catherine nodded. "There's a lady. A pretty lady in a paper dress..." the young girl paused and stared at the corner intently, then resumed what she was saying.
"...and she's crying because no one talks to her."
The radiologist was taken aback. "Describe her to me," he instructed.
The little girl looked back to the corner. "She's got black curly hair...and dark eyes. Really dark eyes. She looks like a Barbie doll," she answered.
"Don't be ridiculous," Catherine's mother scolded. "You're making up stories. There's no one else in the room."
But the radiologist wasn't so sure. Dumbfounded, he stumbled over to his old cases and pulled out a file with a patient photo attached to it by a metal paperclip.
"Does she look familiar?" he asked.
Catherine squealed with delight. "Hi, Lady!" she said to the picture.
The radiologist pulled Catherine's mother aside. "This lady she's talking about is Lena Barton," he whispered. "We lost her to a rare form of cancer just last week."
Catherine's headaches had never been formally diagnosed. The explanation offered by the radiologist was that she had clairvoyant abilities, since nothing had showed up on the CAT scan film. "Just get used to the fact that she'll be seeing more than you think she is," he advised her parents.
And so now Catherine the psychic had found her way to St. John of Mercy's Hospital in the middle of Queens as the attending ER physician. Every patient that she encountered on her daily trek through the sterile white hallways was met with extreme scrutiny. All she needed was for someone to find her having a conversation with someone they couldn't see. Losing her job over something like that was not what she had in mind for her future.
A slight groan from Duo brought her out of her thoughts. The anesthesia was beginning to wear off, and chances were that her patient was going to want some painkillers.
"What happened?" Duo asked, his words slurred because he couldn't move the left side of his face.
"Perhaps you should tell me, Mr. Maxwell," Catherine said, sitting on the very edge of the hospital bed and being sure not to impair the function of any of the various machines that were hooked into his body.
Duo grimaced as he struggled to move his jaw. "Don't know," he confessed. "Someone was in my apartment...they told me to get out, then my face started hurting...and this happened."
"Who was in the apartment?"
"I don't know."
"Well then...what happened before your face started hurting?"
Here, Duo squinched up his good eye in thought. "It got really cold...and then the light started swinging and flickering, then there was this smell..."
A little bell inside Catherine's head went off. "Do you believe in ghosts?" she blurted out.
Duo laughed, then flinched as a sensation of pain raced up and down his face.
"Nah, lady, I don't believe in ghosts. Once we're dead, we're dead, that's it. We don't come back."
Catherine's expression turned grim. "All right then. Mr. Maxwell, you ought to get some rest. Try to avoid speaking as much as possible."
Duo offered what became half a smile because of the bandage covering the left side of his face. "Will do. And you can call me Duo."
Dr. Bloom gathered up her charts. "As you wish, Mr. Maxwell," she said, then walked out of the room.
"You know, you really ought to be careful how you talk in front of patients," a sarcastic voice said. "One of these days it'll get you so deep in shit that you couldn't get back out if you had a snow shovel."
Dr. Bloom's pretty jawline tightened. "Early for your shift, aren't you, Dr. Chang?" she said through clenched teeth.
The Chinese doctor smirked. "Am I early? Or are you late getting off?"
Instinctively, Catherine looked at the clock. Her shift had ended half an hour ago. She had been so involved in Duo Maxwell that she had totally lost track of the time.
"A hell of a way to get overtime," Dr. Chang snickered. "Trying to push your paranormal crap on the weaker-minded."
The redhead smirked. "Well then...since I'm off shift, we need a lower G.I. in room 662A," she said, shoving a stack of charts into Chang's waiting hands.
"Dammit!" he cursed as his coworker walked to the main desk to turn in her badge and coat for the night.
"Good night, Dr. Chang," Catherine called out in a singsong voice as she stepped through the double doors and disappeared into the night.
As Chang passed by Duo Maxwell's hospital room, he peered in out of sheer curiosity. One of the nurses on duty was changing his bandages, and what the handsome doctor saw almost made him retch.
"Maybe you've got something there, Bloom. No one could do that to themselves," he said to the empty air around him.
The hallway suddenly turned ice cold. "Damn air conditioning," Chang muttered.
"Good evening, Dr. Chang," a hollow female voice floated on the air.
"Good e--" The raven-haired doctor stopped dead in his tracks and turned three shades paler than he actually was, his mouth gaping open, mouthing screams that had no sound.
A woman wearing a bloodstained hospital gown was hanging from the ceiling, a noose tightened around her neck and her bulged-out eyes staring directly at him.
Dr. Chang finally found his voice, his scream echoing through the tiled hallways of the hospital.
CHAPTER 2 - Trouble at the Hospital
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Author: Ravena Kaiou
Email: KakyuuStarLt@aol.com
Genre: Horror/Supernatural
Anime: Gundam Wing
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, paranormality, OOC, language.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The rights to it belong to Sunrise Animation, Bandai, and a few other people I don't know about.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Dr. Catherine Bloom looked down at her patient's case file. "Name, Duo Maxwell," she read aloud. "Source of injury, assumed self-inflicted."
The pretty redhead's grey eyes involuntarily flickered down to the bloodstained bandages that covered Duo's face. Plastic surgeons had frantically tried to repair what was left of his face, but chances were that the massive scarring would just make the whole situation as bad as it was when he first came in.
She shuddered as she recalled the bloody pulp that had been lying on the gurney as the braided boy was rushed into the emergency room. To her, it was unthinkable that any human being could inflict such pain on themselves. No, Catherine Bloom sensed foul play. And in the case of this particular doctor, the Queens police usually found that enough grounds to start an investigation.
Since anyone could remember, Catherine had been afflicted with strange headaches and visions. Test after CAT-scan could offer nothing even remotely close to an explanation. There was no tumour, no abnormalities that could be seen.
It wasn't until one of the radiologists pulled the then-five-year-old Catherine aside and asked her to describe what exactly she was seeing that her family began to put the pieces of the puzzle together.
"Catherine? Is there anyone in the room who you don't know?" the radiologist whose name, quite unfortunately, had been lost in Catherine's memory had asked.
Catherine nodded. "There's a lady. A pretty lady in a paper dress..." the young girl paused and stared at the corner intently, then resumed what she was saying.
"...and she's crying because no one talks to her."
The radiologist was taken aback. "Describe her to me," he instructed.
The little girl looked back to the corner. "She's got black curly hair...and dark eyes. Really dark eyes. She looks like a Barbie doll," she answered.
"Don't be ridiculous," Catherine's mother scolded. "You're making up stories. There's no one else in the room."
But the radiologist wasn't so sure. Dumbfounded, he stumbled over to his old cases and pulled out a file with a patient photo attached to it by a metal paperclip.
"Does she look familiar?" he asked.
Catherine squealed with delight. "Hi, Lady!" she said to the picture.
The radiologist pulled Catherine's mother aside. "This lady she's talking about is Lena Barton," he whispered. "We lost her to a rare form of cancer just last week."
Catherine's headaches had never been formally diagnosed. The explanation offered by the radiologist was that she had clairvoyant abilities, since nothing had showed up on the CAT scan film. "Just get used to the fact that she'll be seeing more than you think she is," he advised her parents.
And so now Catherine the psychic had found her way to St. John of Mercy's Hospital in the middle of Queens as the attending ER physician. Every patient that she encountered on her daily trek through the sterile white hallways was met with extreme scrutiny. All she needed was for someone to find her having a conversation with someone they couldn't see. Losing her job over something like that was not what she had in mind for her future.
A slight groan from Duo brought her out of her thoughts. The anesthesia was beginning to wear off, and chances were that her patient was going to want some painkillers.
"What happened?" Duo asked, his words slurred because he couldn't move the left side of his face.
"Perhaps you should tell me, Mr. Maxwell," Catherine said, sitting on the very edge of the hospital bed and being sure not to impair the function of any of the various machines that were hooked into his body.
Duo grimaced as he struggled to move his jaw. "Don't know," he confessed. "Someone was in my apartment...they told me to get out, then my face started hurting...and this happened."
"Who was in the apartment?"
"I don't know."
"Well then...what happened before your face started hurting?"
Here, Duo squinched up his good eye in thought. "It got really cold...and then the light started swinging and flickering, then there was this smell..."
A little bell inside Catherine's head went off. "Do you believe in ghosts?" she blurted out.
Duo laughed, then flinched as a sensation of pain raced up and down his face.
"Nah, lady, I don't believe in ghosts. Once we're dead, we're dead, that's it. We don't come back."
Catherine's expression turned grim. "All right then. Mr. Maxwell, you ought to get some rest. Try to avoid speaking as much as possible."
Duo offered what became half a smile because of the bandage covering the left side of his face. "Will do. And you can call me Duo."
Dr. Bloom gathered up her charts. "As you wish, Mr. Maxwell," she said, then walked out of the room.
"You know, you really ought to be careful how you talk in front of patients," a sarcastic voice said. "One of these days it'll get you so deep in shit that you couldn't get back out if you had a snow shovel."
Dr. Bloom's pretty jawline tightened. "Early for your shift, aren't you, Dr. Chang?" she said through clenched teeth.
The Chinese doctor smirked. "Am I early? Or are you late getting off?"
Instinctively, Catherine looked at the clock. Her shift had ended half an hour ago. She had been so involved in Duo Maxwell that she had totally lost track of the time.
"A hell of a way to get overtime," Dr. Chang snickered. "Trying to push your paranormal crap on the weaker-minded."
The redhead smirked. "Well then...since I'm off shift, we need a lower G.I. in room 662A," she said, shoving a stack of charts into Chang's waiting hands.
"Dammit!" he cursed as his coworker walked to the main desk to turn in her badge and coat for the night.
"Good night, Dr. Chang," Catherine called out in a singsong voice as she stepped through the double doors and disappeared into the night.
As Chang passed by Duo Maxwell's hospital room, he peered in out of sheer curiosity. One of the nurses on duty was changing his bandages, and what the handsome doctor saw almost made him retch.
"Maybe you've got something there, Bloom. No one could do that to themselves," he said to the empty air around him.
The hallway suddenly turned ice cold. "Damn air conditioning," Chang muttered.
"Good evening, Dr. Chang," a hollow female voice floated on the air.
"Good e--" The raven-haired doctor stopped dead in his tracks and turned three shades paler than he actually was, his mouth gaping open, mouthing screams that had no sound.
A woman wearing a bloodstained hospital gown was hanging from the ceiling, a noose tightened around her neck and her bulged-out eyes staring directly at him.
Dr. Chang finally found his voice, his scream echoing through the tiled hallways of the hospital.