The Poison Inside Chpt. 1

THE POISON INSIDE

She sits inside of her cell staring at a blank wall. Thoughts racing through her mind, endlessly shaking her soul. Silence was her punishment. Secretly, the screams keep her company. Prisoners of the illness locked in rooms around her. Screaming, crying, moaning . . . It felt endless. The guard sits outside the cells near the main door. A huge metal door made to keep the insanity locked away. The lights within the water stained hallway flickers on and off as if lightning were possessing the asylum. Deadbolt locks on the doors to reassure the security of the poison. Nothing could compare to the ill minds within each cell. The criminally ill. The psychosis of the flesh.

The door buzzer goes off bringing a piercing shock to the guard. He flicks on the monitor screen to see whom it was buzzing in.

“My card won’t work, Jeff. One of the fruit cakes in Sector B decided to eat it.” The angered doctor said on the opposite side of the door. He stands to use his key to allow the doctor entrance to the madness. The doctor stood outside the door going through his files with a nervous look upon his face.

“Something wrong, Doc?”, Jeff said with a mocking smile.

“Yeah,” He says looking up to Jeff, “I have to deal with these sick freaks day after day after day.” Jeff gives a slight laugh. The doctor enters and drops his files onto the guards’ desk while he searches his pocket for a pen. “GOD DAMN IT!”, the doctor lashes out.

“Something else wrong?”

“Yeah. I left my pen back at the nurse station.”, he replies while scratching his head trying to ignore his own impolite out burst. Jeff just smiles and opens a drawer on his desk and removed a pen. The doctor snatches it out of his hand without a single thank you. Being well known for his up tight attitude, Jeff never gave the doctors actions another thought. The doctor picks up his files and begins to walk down the hallway. The loud clicking of his shoes echo from room to room.

He comes to a stop in front of room 487. Rushing through his files, he reads “Jason Hanford”. He pulls back the sliding view window to peer inside at the patient. A man lays on a bed strapped down with restraints, screaming at the top of his lungs in pain. Imagining rats were devouring him from the inside out. The doctor made a quick note to up the dose on patient 00-837-273, Jason Hanford. He sticks the note onto the door using a small magnet.

He continues to make a stop at each door. Behind each door was a new disorder. A new disease of the mind. A poisoned human. Everyone who worked at Maple View Mental Hospital had seen almost everything there is to see inside an ill mind. The view windows on the metal doors were like a freak show exhibit. Creatures once human. A man scratching at his face and hissing wildly. A woman strapped to a bed muttering, with her eyes rolled back into her head. Another running around the cell screaming madly at himself about his past. One sit in the center of the room staring toward the door, constantly throwing their arms out as if they were throwing imaginary objects.

One room in that isle sent shivers along the doctor’s spine. Room 494. The file of this patient was already at the top of the stack. Hesitation took over when he reached for the view window handle. Forcing himself, he pulled the window back and peered inside. Looking down to his chart quickly, he read “Stab wound check up.” He closed the window quickly and looked to Jeff sitting at his desk reading the newspaper. “I’m going to need your help down here.” The doctor placed his files beside the door. He peered inside once more. A bead of sweet ran down the side of his face, showing fear. He awaited Jeff before he dared to open the door.

Giving one last peer into the room to help reassure his courage, he slowly opened the door and walked inside with an uneasy step. The patient sit in the floor still staring at the wall. She was dressed in a faded gray V-neck tee-shirt, gray pants, and white socks. Her pasty white skin tone was the brightest in the darkening room. Long brown hair draped over the side of her face. She sit with her knees pulled up to her chest; arms crossed over them. Her pale blue, dilated eyes remained focused on the blank wall. No blinking; no motion was detected.

“Ms. Raven, I need to check the wound on your back.”, he said, removing a syringe from his pocket. “This is just to keep you calm.” He slowly made his way to the patient. Jeff fallowed close behind without taking his eye off the quiet girl. The doctor kneels to her side and slowly reaches for her arm, flicking the cover off the end of the syringe. Suddenly, she makes a move to slide away from him. The doctor remains still, trying not to move at all. Again, he tries to grasp her arm calmly. Her eyes suddenly return to normal from their dilated state. . . The patient whips around grabbing his hand, breaking it, and forcing the needle directly into his throat, plunging the medications straight into his jugular vein. Jeff goes for her arms to force her back against the floor as the doctor falls back limp and lifeless. Jeff screams for help but no one is around. Trying to free his gun, he releases the patient.

The patient rips the syringe out of the doctors’ throat, grasping it tightly. But he was still alive. He grabs Jeff’s leg trying and mumbles “Help me!” . . . With this stall, she plunges the syringe into Jeff’s hand. He screams in pain, breaking away from the dying doctor. The patient stands staring dead at Jeff as he pulls the needle out and drops it to the ground. Before he even had a chance to look up, the patient grabbed Jeff by the throat and forces him back against the wall. “How can she be so strong?!”, screamed Jeff inside of his mind. “Please don’t do this, please!”, Jeff squeezed out with a short breath. She never responded. She just peered into his growing-bloodshot-eyes.

Jeff scrambled to get free; he tried to pull her hands away from his throat. He began to make a strangling noise from the pressure. With his last sight being her soulless eyes, he slipped into darkness. Dropping him to the floor, she turns to grab the syringe from the floor. No one had expected she would snap. She was always heavily sedated. Ever since she had arrived, she never talked, nor showed any signs of violence. Maybe she decided it was time to leave. To be free. Or to remove the mask she wore for so long. She stepped over the bodies and closed the door behind her. She turned to closed the view window, after first peering through to the murders she had committed.

She walked quietly down the hallway, to the metal entrance door. The keys to all the doors lay on the desk. With no regret, she picked up the keys and flicked through all of them to find the right one. Finally, the door unlocked and she was free. She realized there was more than this ahead of her. Without hesitation she continued along the way holding the keys and syringe tightly in her hands. Voices could be heard just ahead near the stairwell. For over a year, she was stored away in the second ground floor of the hospital. It was time for a change. And she was well on her way. She stopped at the corner of the hallway and peaked around to the other side where two nurses walking to the stairwell door. The patient waited until they left so she could cross over to the laundry room just ahead.

Finally, the stairwell door closed behind them and the seemingly endless gossip was over. She could finally steal clean clothing and sneak out unnoticed. She had the key to every door. Nothing was going to stop her. She cautiously crossed the isles when the doors closed to the laundry room. To her surprise, there was no lock on the door. Anyone could enter at anytime with no trouble. She opened the door and slowly walked inside. The room was cluttered and smelled of fabric softener. She searched for a while within the noise of the dryers and washers. Finally, she found a pile of fresh, clean clothing. But, she had to find a pair in her size. No one would just look the other way at a nurse who is wearing clothing too small or too baggy.

While digging through the piles, the door behind her opens. A man enters, pushing a carriage of filthy clothing and sheets. She hid under the table laying flat on her stomach watching his feet. He made many moves toward the table she was hid beneath. She had to think of something and fast, or else she would be caught. The patient searches the floor for anything that could be used as a weapon. Anything could be useful. A metal clothing hanger catches her eye laying on the other side of the table. Quickly, she snatches the clothing hanger and begins to bend it into a straight wire.

Now, she had to distract him long enough to make her deadly move. The patient rolled the syringe across the floor, bumping the workers foot. He stares at the blood stained syringe for a brief second. Unsure at first, he slowly kneels down to look under the table. The patient was waiting . . . He looked in fear, to the girl laying in the floor peering at him with empty eyes. He rose and started to scream for help. But no one could here him in the basement over the loud crashing sounds of the washers and dryers. The patient stabbed the wire into his ankle, bringing him down to his knee. Unexpected, he landed on the syringe. Shards pierce into his knee causing great pain. The patient slides out from under the table still holding the bloody wire in her hand. The worker looks to her in shock while grasping to his bleeding ankle. “HELP!”, he screams. “Someone, please help!”

Realizing he had to slow her down, even if for a second, he kicks the table turning it over on top of her. He then forces himself to his feet; the agonizing pain rages through his body. The patient pushes the table up and digs her way out of the clothing. The worker holds to the washing machines and stumbles forth toward the door leaving a trail of blood behind him. A shock is sent through his body from a touch cold as death itself. He releases a blood curdling scream as he is pushed into the wall. The washer thumped beside of the patient catching her attention going at high speeds spinning the clothing. “I’m going to kill you, you stupid bitch!” the worker moaned in pain. She grabbed the worker by his shirt and forced him to stand up. With no emotion on her face, she lifted the lid to the washing machine. Using the wire, she held down the button to keep it spinning. The worker screamed in fear realizing her plan.

“OH GOD! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS!” He did all he could to pull away from her. She forced his head into the side of the spinning barrel, catching his face. The bones breaking seemed endless. She released him when blood started to cover the machine. His decapitated body fell back on the floor still shaking from the nerves. Blood splattered onto the walls and the patients clothing. She dropped the wire to the floor and returned to find the clothing through the pile on the floor. She wiped the blood onto the clothing she was wearing, before she touched any of them.

She picks up the perfect fit for her. A purple scrubs shirt and a pair of purple pants to match. She quickly makes the change then picks up the keys from the floor. As she starts to leave, she steps in the blood of the worker, realizing she needed shoes. Or at least a cover for shoes to make it out of the asylum. The patient searches the room, only to find nothing. The only thing to wear on her feet were on the worker. She had no choice. She removed his tennis shoes and placed them on. Not the perfect fit, but it would have to do. A small red card hanging to the nurses shirt caught her attention. A keycard to every room in the hospital. She quickly grabbed a keycard and now, she was ready to go.

She exits the laundry room and makes her way to the stairwell.Opening the door slowly, she peering into the empty stairwell. She climbs each stair with caution, always looking ahead to the door marked “Gr.F 1". Suddenly, the door opens and a group of nurses are heading her way. But this isn’t going to stop her. She made it this far, and she was determined to make it out. She continues up the stairs as the nurses approach her. She keeps her head down as they gossiped among their selves. Not even giving the patient in disguise a second look, they pass by. She quickly heads to the door knowing they would discover the corpses below. She swings the door open and hurries onto a room full of nurses and guards.

The patient pauses in shock.