3
Dr. Elliot had been sitting in the staff room, reading over the file and taking notes all afternoon. Ethan Hunt, seventeen years old, he looked a mess in his picture. His eyes had a look of desperation, His skin pale and sallow. Compared to the family picture taken a few months before he was admitted, you wouldn't believe it was the same kid. Suffers from night terrors and delusions. Self inflicts. It all seemed to begin when his sister Charlotte died. But Paul couldn't find any documents on a Charlotte Hunt. He glanced at his watch, quarter to seven.
Ethan should be arriving soon.
Just at that moment the inter come spluttered to life.
"Dr. Paul Elliot to reception please. Dr. Paul Elliot to reception."
It was like déjà vu, but this time, instead of dilly dallying, Paul wanted to see this kid as soon as possible. He briskly walked down the hospital corridor back to reception, where Rosalyn was standing behind the counter again.
"Hey Ros, what rooms the kid in?"
Rosalyn looked up with confusion.
"What are you talking about Dr. Elliot? It's your wife on the phone, something about not picking up boxes? I'd say you're in deep bull Dr. Elliot."
Ah, the boxes!
Paul snatched the receiver off of its cradle.
"Helen, I'm so sorry, I totally forgot, I just got this new patient, top priority and-"
"Save it Paul. Your stuffs down at the dump. If you want it, you can go get it. As for the divorce papers, expect to receive them at the hospital in a few days. I'm sorry as well Paul; sorry we couldn't make this work. Good bye…"
The line went dead. Paul placed the receiver back on its cradle.
"I'm sorry Dr. Elliot, I really am."
Paul just shook his head and shuffled back down the corridor to the staff room. He slumped into the brown sofa, looking down at Ethan's file. He had highlighted everything that seemed necessary. The night terrors are what Paul worried about the most. They are usually only present in pre school children, which could hint that he had these when he was younger. The fact that he is going through a time of emotional distress could be what brought them back on. He would need to be observed, especially when he sleeps, but the fact that you can rarely bring patients out of their sleep was worrying. If things got too out of hand, he could prescribe Tofranil or benzodiazepine drugs such as Klonopin or Valium. That's not always the best route though. He took note of all this, wanting to clear it with Sullivan first. A course of psychotherapy could help as well.
"Dr. Paul Elliot to reception please. Dr. Elliot to reception."
This time it has to be the kid. If it isn't I swear…
Paul once again made the short trip to reception. Rosalyn was gone now, and the night receptionist was there instead. Janine, Janet… something like that.
"Oh, hello Dr. Elliot"
She spoke through her nose, which irritated Paul.
"Your new patient has just come in. He is in ward C, on the third floor. Room number 12."
Paul just nodded, not wanting to call her by the wrong name.
Lifts or stairs, lifts or stairs…lift.
He really couldn't be bothered walking up the double staircases, besides, Dr. Kaufman had just entered the elevator and he wanted a word about his transfer. Dr. Kaufman was the director of the hospital in the Central part of the town, Alchemilla hospital.
"Hey, Dr. Kaufman, hold the door!"
Kaufman turned to greet Paul with a grin. He was around forty, with jet-black hair, and piercing blue eyes, as though he could see right into your soul.
"Ah, Dr. Elliot, so glad to see you. I hear you are taking on the Hunt case. It's a shame really; his father and mother can't be found anywhere. The school reported his absence, then the authorities found him. What floor, Dr. Elliot?"
Kaufman and Paul had entered the lift by now and Paul could see Kaufman was going to the second floor.
"Eh, the third, Dr. Kaufman. About my transfer I – "
"Yes, about that, I really don't think its wise to transfer you right now. Not until you have dealt with this case first, is that alright?"
Paul had been wanting out of Brookhaven for a while, but this new case really did seem to matter a lot.
"Sure Dr. Kaufman. I'll deal with this case first."
The elevator pinged to a stop at the second floor. As the doors slid open, Kaufman adjusted his tie then left the elevator.
The elevator rumbled up to the next floor and Paul stepped out into the corridor, his footsteps echoing. The double doors leading to ward C were down the corridor to his right and straight ahead the corridor led to the day room. He turned right and proceeded down the corridor.
The special treatment rooms lay in an offshoot to the right, but they were only for severe cases. The padded walls give me the creeps. He continued down the corridor, passing the door that led to the stairwell and eventually came to the double doors leading to ward C. The notice board next to the doors informed him that a nurse was currently on duty, handing out the medication.
Which nurse though?
He punched in the four-digit code and the door unlocked with a satisfying click. The ward C corridor was a little creepy as well. It was just like wards A and B with a shower and rest room, but it seemed to have a darker aura.
Probably cause its full of loons.
The lighting was dim as well, which gave it a creepier feeling. And room 12 was at the far end of the corridor! Oh great, I have to pass all the weird ones first. At least I know there are other people in the ward. Paul began his walk down ward C, moving at a quick pace. With any luck, the nurse would be nearly finished, he hated it when they had to open cells when he walked by.
One, Two, Three, only another nine to go… Seven, Eight, Nine, what the hell?
Room nine's door was open, and weak sobs could be heard from inside. Paul moved slowly towards the door, peering through the small window. There was a body on the bed, and a figure kneeling over it, crying. It looked like a nurse.
"Excuse me, nurse? What's the matter?"
He pushed the door open and noticed the scene was extremely wrong. The body on the bed was of a young woman, stripped to her underwear and throat slit. The figure bending over the bed was wearing the nurses uniform, but it was a thin, pale skinned male, with thin black hair covering his face. In his hand he held an empty syringe, dripping with blood and lumps of skin.
The patient turned to look at him, a menacing gaze, one that sent shivers down Paul's spine. He tried shouting for the guard that was supposed to be on duty, but his throat locked up.
Suddenly the patient sprung forward, dirty needle pointed at Paul's face. He screamed and suddenly fell backwards, squeezing his eyes shut. He hit a wall, waiting for the pain, but it never came. He opened them slowly and found himself staring at the shut and locked door of room nine. He moved forward and peered into the glass window. No dead nurse, no blood, only the patient of room nine, sleeping on the hard hospital bed.
"Doctor Elliot! Are you o.k.? I saw you fall backwards, what happened?"
Paul looked into the dark hazel eyes of the nurse.
"Yeah, I'm fine, just in a day dream. Thanks anyway nurse… "
"The names Jenny, your doctor Paul Elliot, no need for introductions."
Paul looked the young nurse up and down. She couldn't be older than 21, with rusty red hair, hazel eyes and a tanned complexion. She grinned a white, toothy smile.
"Who you looking for Paul? If it's the new patient, he is three doors up. See you around."
And with that she walked off into the darkness of ward C. Paul walked over to room 12, replaying what he had just saw. Was it real? Of course not. He was just tired. He inserted the key into the lock and turned it smoothly. The lights flickered on automatically, and there sat Ethan on his bed, looking like any normal teenager.