Dr. Stan walked out of the room disappointedly; his white coat stained red by a gash on his right arm, the collar of the coat was torn unevenly in some places and almost all of the white clothing looked like it was used as a chewing toy for some wild beast; in other words, the coat itself looked miserably unfixable.
And there comes the headache.
Inside the cushioned room, a young boy laid unconscious on the white flooring. Two men, one younger than the other, carefully slipped a straitjacket around the boy's thin form before collecting whatever remained of his previous one. The specialist massaged the bridge on his nose in hopes to ease the forming headache if only a little, one of the doctors assigned to take notes on the boy's progress patted Stan apologetically on his shoulder. He nodded to the doctor before making his way towards his office where he keeps some bandages and first aid kits. Of course he could've gone to the nurse in charge of healing injuries caused to or by the patients but he didn't have the guts to meet the other doctors at the moment.
Not after another failing session with that very same boy.
Once he reached his office, he locked the door and proceeded to wrap his injured arm with some bandages. He cleaned the blood that leaked onto the floor and changed into a new lab coat before submitting to his nagging desire to sit down.
The doctor sighed for the umpteenth time that afternoon, it's not like his day could get any worse right? He decided to take it easy for the rest of the day, he didn't have that much work scheduled for him anyway; all he had left to do was complete some paper work regarding moving the patient of room C4 to Block A. Come to think of it, there were three other patients that were moved to different blocks of the building within that month, Stan didn't know much of the topic himself since most of those patients weren't his; though he'll have to ask about it later, one of the things he hated the most was being uninformed.
A knock on the door distracted the doctor out of his train of thought. Remembering that he locked the door earlier, he got up from his leather chair and unlocked it. Stan wasn't too surprised when he met the person on the other end of the door.
"Stanley!"
Gobber
"Not in the mood, Garfield" Dr. Stan used Gobber's real name to humor the man and, judging by the spark of amused annoyance in the other's eyes, it worked to some extent.
"There you go again, how many times have I told you to call me Gobber?" Gobber rolled his eyes and allowed himself into the room.
"I'm not supposed to answer that, right?" Stanley asked jokingly earning a fake laugh from the other.
"So how was it?" Garfield asked after a while. Stanley frowned
"What are you talking about?" Play dumb, the best way whenever you want to evade a certain subject
"Dan't play dumb with me" Or maybe not.
"Look Gobber, I –"
"HA! Ye called me Gobber!" the blonde mustached man announced in triumph.
"Oh lord, please help me" the doctor muttered as he watched his old friend's childish antics.
Dr. Stanley knew Garfield for more than seven years by now, they were both hired in the asylum at about the same time and they both hit it off well since then. It's come to the point where, just like work, Stan depended on the other to distract him from life's problems; it soon has grown to become a habit for both of them to talk to each other, and sometimes throw some lame jokes, at least once a day.
"So anyway, how did it go?" Gobber repeated; emphasizing in his tone how any trick the other had to evade the topic will be rendered useless.
"To be honest, not so well" Dr. Stan finally gave in to his friend.
"Well, I can see that" Gobber glanced at the bloody worn-out coat that was discarded at the very far corner of the room.
If so then why did you ask me to begin with?, the doctor thought to himself, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.
"Heard that it was a pretty close call back there" Gobber continued, Stan nodded.
"Yeah, but I was able to stop him before he was able to bite off my neck" Stan had his hand instinctively touch where the last blow on his person would have been, emphasizing his point.
"Guess it would have turned really ugly if it weren't for that stun gun I gave ya" the blonde man added with a chuckle "and it was you who said that ya wouldn't even need it"
"Don't you have anything better to do?" the doctor asked, embarrassed.
"Nope, the kid's out of it so I won't have to begin my shift until a few hours later" It seemed that Gobber was in full intention to never let his friend hear the end of it.
"Right" Stan muttered with little to no interest, not even bothering to hide that annoyance in his voice; much to his companion's amusement.
"Well, I trust you've made some progress at least?"
"Not even close"
Gobber sighed; he hated seeing the doctor in such a state.
"Ya know, it is quite a daring case ye've accepted there" Gobber said as he allowed himself to take a seat on the leather chair available behind the desk "I mean, ye dan't see so many doctors so eager to put their lives on the line for an impossible insane case"
"Don't say that" Stanley insisted in a determined if not slightly insulted tone "you can never know until you try"
"Oh, and are ye a philosopher now?" Gobber joked, laughing as he did, making Stan cough out a few chuckles against his own will.
"You'll never change" Stan muttered to himself in a both irritated and amused tone, Gobber has always been that jolly annoyance and good friend for all those years Stan has known him in; never once has he seen the other down at all.
Suddenly, a voice from Gobber's mobile radio device unexpectedly interrupted.
"Gobber, do you read?"
"Anything wrong Daniel?" Gobber took out the device in less than a second.
"The patient in room D8 is resisting, we need your help"
"Roger that" Gobber pressed off his device and immediately head for the door "well then, duty calls"
Stan merely nodded before his friend left the room, leaving him alone once again.
The doctor sighed; it's been a stressful day. He stole a glance at the stun gun that was now lying innocently on the surface of his desk, a part of him hoped that Gobber didn't give him this tool, maybe then he would have finally been embraced by the stillness of death. He could've gladly left for the afterlife where he wouldn't have to deal with life's problems or insane patients anymore, maybe then he could finally reunite with his son and wife and have the life that they've so long hoped for.
No! Such thoughts are the reason why many people get admitted into asylums in the first place! They always start as little harmless "what-ifs" before they grow into suicidal tendencies, and being a respected doctor of his profession; he cannot allow himself to walk down that road, not as long as there's something worth staying for anyway.
What would Gobber do if I wasn't there to stop him from chugging down maple syrup?, Stan thought with a chuckle.
There's still much to life than it seems, and there's still Stan's ultimate goal that is yet to be achieved; the doctor would never allow himself to leave to the other world before he accomplishes it.
With that thought in mind, determination coursed through Dr. Stanley's veins with fortitude flashing across his eyes as a fresh sense of purpose enveloped him.
For the next three seconds at least . . .
A knock on the door has yet again startled the doctor out of his train of thoughts. This time though, the knocks were evenly spaced and deliberate, Dr. Stan had a good idea of the person waiting on the other side of the door.
Not wasting much time, he proceeded to open the door, and as expected . . .
"Doctor, I can't find her room. When I asked the staff they said that she was moved to another room, please tell me where she is" At the other side of the door stood a young girl of assumingly 14 years. She had long blonde hair that was grouped into a thick braid with short bangs covering her left eye, wide baby blue eyes, and athletic features.
Astrid Hofferson is a regular visitor of the asylum, making sure to visit her mother at least once a week. She has always related well with the doctors and staff of the asylum, she's also one of the very few people who are keen on always visiting their less fortunate relatives regularly; usually in most cases, family relatives would constantly stop by to visit the patients of whom they are related to but soon they stop coming altogether after merely a couple of weeks (a month at most), it amazes the doctor how even after three years that girl still wouldn't miss a single visit no matter what.
"Please doctor" the girl sounded worried, the only other time he's ever seen her so troubled was when she found out her mother won't be getting out of the asylum anytime soon, she was eleven back then; still a very young lass.
"Don't worry Astrid, your mother was just moved to another block" Dr. Stanley said calmly "sit for a second, I'll look through the files and see where she has been transferred"
Astrid nodded solemnly and took a seat. Not a sound was heard in the room after that, save for the occasional shuffling of papers and the squeaking of the slowly rotating fan.
Dr. Stanley has developed the ability to notice small insignificant details within his line of work from time to time. Right now, he managed to note the rare presence of a schoolbag next to Astrid's chair, it unusual for her to come visit her mother right after school. She also seemed pretty restless; he could clearly make out the exhaustion his her eyes, is it that she faces problems at home?
The doctor took out the files that belonged to his previous patients; Helga Hofferson has ceased to be under his jurisdiction ever since last week when she was transferred into a different block so he's pretty sure that he's still got her transference files lying around somewhere. It seems that now since Astrid's mother has been transferred into another doctor's field, he wouldn't be seeing a lot more of the lass herself anymore.
What a pity, he thought to himself with a snort. Too bad really, he has grown to think of the girl like she's his daughter.
"I found it" the doctor announced after a moment of silence, he took out a paper compiled within a manila folder "I believe she was moved to Block B, room 3. You could ask the guard standing next to the door of that block should you need any assistance, he would help you"
"Thank you so much" Astrid nodded and proceeded to stand up; she swung her bag on her shoulder and made a beeline to the door.
"Oh, and one more thing" he said "You'll need special permission to enter Block B"
He offered her a card
"This will allow you to enter and exit freely; make sure not to lose it"
Astrid accepted the pass gratefully
"But then" she began "why would you need special authorization to go there?"
Now that I think about it, I've noticed that there has always been more guards and security near Block B whenever a pass through it, Astrid thought
Why's that?
"Ah, no. Actually, it's just that some patients there have attempted escape more than once and so, for the safety of both themselves and the asylum's staff we decided to install a more advanced security there to reduce such incidents from happening" Dr. Stan quickly made up a believable story, hoping that the girl would buy it.
Well, maybe not all of it is made up; some patients there did attempt escape before, though that's not the reason why there's a more enhanced security in that Block. The truth is that there is where they group all the most insane cases, the doctor didn't dare tell the girl though; god knows what she'll do if she discovered that her mother became labeled as a highly unstable case, it's not like her hope isn't diminishing every time she comes to visit and learns that her mother hadn't made any progress yet.
Dr. Stan isn't even sure when it was decided that Helga Hofferson had to move to Block B; if he had been consulted he wouldn't have permitted such measures for her, not yet at least. Nevertheless, it has already been decided and he doesn't have a say in the subject considering she's not his patient anymore so he decided not to bother himself and fill the transference files anyway.
Luckily for him, Astrid believed what he told her and didn't bother with anymore questions, she settled with a simple "thank you" before exiting his office, closing the door gently behind her.
Dr. Stanley massaged his temples; it seems the headache from before still didn't cease to bother him though it is much more bearable now.
It has been a pretty stressful week, to say the least.