The clock struck midnight. Bree closed her eyes as the flashlight scanned her delicate body covered in wounds, a bit of gaze held back the drips of agony.
No one truly saw them. No one believed her, all of her words were lost in space.
The strange and unusual states of the patients at night, how they cried, how they said, “Nurse, help!” only to be stiff as a board the next day, unable to move but a waxed doll to place on machines, machines that didn’t care if they lived or died.
The light withdrew like a phantom. Bree wanted to grab it, to keep him back.
Him?
Her voice choked, but she knew better than to make any noise at night. The nurses failed to come to the aid of the patients, the screams! The screams! Their slip-resistant shoes stopped making faint noises as they hit the floor, farther and farther away. The keys turned and all went into the breakroom. Bree wondered what conversations they shared. The conspiracies grew wilder and wilder.
Bree knew a scream might slip from her red lips.
“You did this to yourself,” her dad told her, the last time he saw her two weeks ago. She knew her place in the great white house had dwindled and would fade with her in a silent cemetery. Neither one of her parents could take the embarrassment of a self-harming teenager. Those kinds of people, as her mother said when any deviation hit a person or a pack of unfortunate souls.
Well, she was that kind of person. Blood and bones go together.
A knocking sound and then a squeaking hinge greeted her ears.
She knew he would come.
Bree closed her eyes and tried to appear naturally asleep. The man, the thing of abhorrent mystery, stood outside of her door.
Her chest burned. Her lips trembled. She wanted to cry but remained quiet as an exhausted dog, hoping to be too unimportant to mess around with..
A beep came from the other side of the room and a raspy voice caused Bree’s pinky finger to move, “Who is on call tonight?” the thing asked.
Nobody answered, just static. The thing growled and came closer. Bree took in slow, deep breaths.
The foul beast moved a few steps closer.
Not me, Bree thought. Not me.
A door opened down the hall. Someone held keys and walked toward her. The creature remained. Bree felt the stare, felt the knife of her will failing futilely.
“Oh Dr. Mite, you asked who was on call?”
“Yes, Hellen,” the being's voice still shook and quaked. Sorry, I have a bit of a cold.”
Bree opened her twitching eyes, feeling safe and protected. She could be so silly at times. Her friends told her not to be such a drama queen on one or more occasions.
Open up, she commanded her mind.
Red eyes blinded her, and her body felt tense. She shook and screamed. Then all she could hear were the creature’s footsteps leaving the room.
“Yes, those kinds of people,” the nurse said.
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