Chapter Two

The stench was strongest in her room. It permeated the whole hospital, but his nose adjusted to it quickly. In her room though, it was pungent and overbearing. It smelled of sickness and sadness. The stale coppery scent of blood mingled with the smell of antiseptic and vomit. It was appalling, the definition of death.

He stared at the old woman intently. She had been dying for as long as he could remember. She could count the months she had left on a calendar, if she wanted. One day after the next ticked off. She reminded him of a flower, beautiful and stunning at its peak, but destined to wilt.

She was oddly quiet tonight. He watched her carefully as she paced back and forth. For some strange reason, she fascinated him. Rhett had always been entertained by people, their quirks and personalities especially when they were as extreme as her. That was part of why he took the job.

Rhett cleared his throat, causing her to jump. She stared at him for a moment, her face a mask of confusion. Then she smiled brightly.

“It’s about time you came to see me,” Her ancient eyes searched his. “You’re so young to be in here.”

She stopped for a minute, her eyes staring at something just over his shoulder with a glazed look. Then she snaps back into reality. Back and forth. Ebb and flow. Her cardboard sign was more difficult to keep up.

“What can I do for you, Rhett?”

Her scratchy skin met his as she grasped his hand, patting it gently. He felt intrusive, questioning the woman whose clock was ticking down quickly enough as it was.

“I just want to see if you know anything. It’s about what happened in the cafeteria this morning.”

He was taking a risk, asking her questions, but she seemed to know everything about everyone, when she really thought about it. She was a spider, the whole hospital was her web, and she knew it. He was pushing his luck, but it had to be done. The woman’s expression darkened, and she bit her lip.

“I wasn’t there for most of it. I just caught the tailend of it.”

“And?”

“It’s none of your business.”

And it was over. She knew her minutes were numbered, and she chose how she would spend them. It was impossible to persuade her otherwise. He turned towards the door, frustrated. And that was when he heard it. A whisper at the back of the mind.

It was an argument.

“What did you say?”

The old woman glares at him.

“Nothing.”

“No, something about an argument. What did you say?”

She shakes her head furiously.

“Rhett. I didn’t say anything!”

He is losing it. He needs to leave.

Rhett whipped around, grabbing her tightly by the shoulder. He saw something in her eyes he had never seen before. Something dangerous and exotically out of place. Fear. Perhaps, she was reflecting what she saw in him. Heart beating rapidly, he shook her with a fierceness he did not know he possessed.

“What are you talking about?”

She simply shook her head and watched as he stumbled out of the room.

Rhett stared at the blank wall in front of him, trying to ignore the uneasy silence in the room. He wasn’t a smoker–he hated them actually–but Rhett was itching for a cigarette. Or rather, anything to distract him from the recent events. Maybe a beer. Not dark, he could never hold those, but something nice on the tongue and smooth going down. He sat there, in that isolated corridor in the darkness, trying to understand. He knew she had said something, but denied it. Why would she do that? It didn’t add up. The old woman must really be off her rocker these days. He shook his head, desperately trying to clear it.

It was late afternoon, and time seemed to pass slower than ever. He was at the hospital all the time, or so it felt, and all he could do was think. It was destructive, having so much running through his head. It was like he was waiting for something, though he wasn’t quite sure what.

Rhett snorted at himself. He was being ridiculous, skulking in the far reaches of the hospital playing make believe. He had a mission, and he was going to stick to it. With a newfound motivation, Rhett headed to the cafeteria to rejoin the guards and inform them of his discoveries. He spotted them in the office and jogged that way.

It’s cold in this place.

He stopped dead in his tracks. He heard it again. He looked around, searching for source to the sound but found nothing but the lonely hallways behind him. It was nothing. He was imagining things. Rhett took another step forward.

I’m so tired these days.

He watches, horrified, as a guard leans back in his chair and rubs his eyes. No. He leaned against the wall, shaking.

I have a few more hours, then I can go home.

These were not his thoughts.

Maybe I should check on the patients in-

They were alien and odd.

I think she must hate-
there’s a-
sometime I-
the room is-

The thoughts began to flood his mind and jumbled together. A cacophony. He was drowning in the noise. Head was pounding. Ears ringing. He couldn’t think in the mess, couldn’t find his own voice. He couldn’t think. There was so much noise. Noise. Noise! Somewhere in the abyss, he screamed. Then it ceased. Just like that.

He realized then he was on the floor, crumpled into a heap with his hands gripping his head. Tears welled in the corner of his eyes, and he lightly brushed them away. The guards stared at him from inside their small office of safety. A single thought was shared among them,

Is he insane?

Rhett gave a small, cautious wave and limped away.

The next few days were a living nightmare. Rhett stayed alone for most of the time, trying to make sense of what had happened. He hid in the room with the whirring of the vending machine, exhausted. The office was empty, as it always was. The guards rarely stayed in the office, it was much too cold, and they were too busy to take any kind of break. But Rhett suddenly found comfort in the isolation.

The thoughts of the condemned came and went, slowly breaking down his composure. His brain had become a battleground, and he was losing hopelessly.

Shut up.

He repeated it over and over.

Shut up. Shut up, shut up.

Rhett wondered for a bit if he was going crazy. All the hours of spending time with the patients had rotted away his brain. He had seen it a thousand times, the descent into madness one shaking, deranged step at a time.

But no, this was something entirely different. Rhett could hear the voices as clearly as his own. No, this was a talent. Though, he had always imagined having an ability to be a gift, a super power. It seemed more like an unwelcome curse. He couldn’t quiet his own brain, much less everyone else’s.

Shut. Up.

Rhett, who was always entertained by people, wanted nothing to do having them in his head.

“Are you okay?”

Rhett looked up to see Leon standing over him. He realize, with a sudden jolt, that he hand been clenching his fists, so tightly that his fingernails had cut his palms. His friend narrowed his eyes,

“You look like crap.”

“Do I?”

Leon nods,

“Yeah, buddy. Are you okay?”

Leon saunters over to the glowing vending machine, pushing his face against the glass. Rhett hesitates for a second, biting his lip,

“I’m just wondering if all this is worth it. Working here. I feel like I’m drowning these days.”

“You’ve just gotta persevere, you’ll make it. Though, I wouldn’t underestimate the appeal of wickedness. Even the best people feel its pull.”

Rhett blinked then gave his friend a timid smile. He was right, of course. But that was the problem. The blackness was calling his name. And it was getting harder and harder to deny.