Footsteps echoed through the long hallway as the doctor passed by. Psychiatrist Tristan Devon had always been the doctor to the employees and the visitors of the place, of Macquarie Hospital. He’s been here for a few months, having transferred from the most elite medical school from Washington to here. To Australia.
The young doctor didn’t have any
problems in getting the friendship of the staff – in a place like this, people
tend to band together. But none of his good looks and charm can make his job
any easier.
It’s sad how people call the patients
insane, or lunatics. The crazy ones. In Tristan’s mind, they’re just lost, and
that’s where doctors like him come in.
As a child, he always had great
sympathy for those neglected and undermined by the system, and by the people.
The beggars on the street, the homeless and the abused – they always hit a soft
spot on him. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d help them one day, once
he had the means.
“Good morning, doctor.”
“Hello, Kate.” Tristan smiled at the
nurse behind the desk. Kate Stewart is one of the few that shares the doctor’s
true passion for helping others that are incapable. She loves her job and is
devoted to it, unlike the others who flinch at the mere sight of the patients.
Tristan had never liked them.
“So, today’s the big day, isn’t it?”
“It sure is. You ready?” he asked in a
cheerful voice to hide his nervousness. But as another nurse came to desk duty
and Kate walked with him, the smile on her face most likely meant that he
didn’t fool her in the slightest.
As they walked side by side to the
secure ward, they checked each door they passed by and Kate helped him take
notes on his clipboard – notes on the patient’s improvements, needs, health,
necessary changes in medication or any other variation from their usual
catatonic behavior. Tristan knew all of their names at heart, and doted on them
like a friend would do, and sometimes, he would see the stirrings of life on
their blank eyes. Sometimes, nothing at all.
But the real challenge was on the
secure ward, and other more capable doctors than Tristan are completely on
their element here. The patients nothing like the others: they scream at night,
pick a fight, and murmur about things only they understand. They were severe
cases.
“Clipboards,” said Mr. Johnson, who’s
been the entrance in-charge for the past months. Kate and Tristan handed them
over and included their watches, pens, and belts. All of their items were put
on separate trays and they made no comment.
It’s custom for everyone who enters
the ward not to brig anything that might get anyone in trouble, even an
innocent necktie. Tristan handed his over but didn’t buckle under the searching
stare of Johnson. Then Tristan followed his gaze to the crucifix dangling over
his white coat.
“Your item, sir?” he made it sound
like a request, but in truth, it wasn’t. Security is important to everyone
here, and Tristan couldn’t blame him.
“I’ll keep it.” He said with a slight
smile and hid his silver cross under the folds of his coat, and prayed no one
would use it against him. Hopefully.
Johnson gave him a curt nod and opened
the heavy door.
The atmosphere changed almost
instantly. It’s still early in the morning, yet the doctors were busy strutting
about, trying to attend to everybody’s needs as much as possible, with the
nurses on their wake.
Each patient has their own room, most
of them are neat, but a few are in a mess. There were torn clothes, vomit, and
untouched trays of food.
And then there’s the occasional
screaming and mindless chanting.
For Tristan , this is the worst part.
Their terrorized and confused voices pulled hard on his heartstrings and gave
him the feeling of extreme sadness, but nevertheless, he and Kate strode
forward, deeper into the ward and stopped at a door marked with numbers 572.
As Kate reminded him over and over
about the procedures and the case of the patient behind the door, Tristan was
barely listening.
It was chance to help. To really help a person and hopefully, mend
them permanently. Hopefully.
He looked at the filled-out form
placed on the right wall of the door. Hew name was Reeya Hamilton. As he read,
he distinctly heard Kate on the background of all the noise, “…really fragile,
so you should be really careful with her…” He blocked out her voice once again,
but when he was halfway through the form, he did a double take.
“Trafficking?” He asked in baffled
anger. He couldn’t believe it – the girl was just eighteen!
“Yes,” Kate answered in a sober voice.
They fell in a subdued silence as Tristan took a look at the form once again,
his skin numbed. Mixed emotions were creating a maelstrom inside him – rage,
disgust, and as usual, the utter need to help. Nobody has the right to sell a person.
“She’s awake.”
At her words, Tristan looked through
the small glass window and saw a petite figure sitting on the small bed. Her
arms were around her knees. She was facing the wall, though, so he couldn’t
make out her features.
“How long has she…how long since you
found her?” he asked.
“Only three months. She was in Bosnia
for several months before the police caught up and broke her and the other
girls free. It was…horrible.” Kate shuddered. “Some of the girls were dying,
others were already dead, but most of them…” her voice trailed away as she
clenched her jaw tightly.
“I understand.” Tristan said quietly.
He asked her more about Reeya.
The girl had no family, no kin
visiting her. A wealthy person pays her expenses ever since, but no one with
the surname Hamilton ever came looking for her. But Tristan was drawn to a more
disheartening prospect.
“She can be violent,” Kate said,
confused, “Most days, she’ll be quiet and lethargic like the others outside,
but one time, she tried to choke a nurse. We barely got there in time. And
then, there was another incident where she banged a nurse’s head to the wall.
He had a concussion, turned out to be nothing serious, but he quit the job
right after that.”
That was expected, but as Tristan
gazed at the girl, he found it hard to imagine her choking someone.
“We can switch to another patient, if
you want.” she suggested. The doctor’s mind was set, though. For the past two
weeks, he’d been preparing himself for this special assignment.
They’d permitted him to treat a
patient under his own terms, given that he won’t violate any code they set for
the patients. He’d been more than glad when he received the news, and now was
his chance.
“No, it’s alright.”
“You want to go in now?” she asked
with concern.
“It’s now or never.” he smiled and
pushed the door open slowly.
The room was cool and it was
surprisingly clean. There was ample amount of light. Tristan closed the door
and the instant he heard the small click,
Reeya’s head turned to him ever so slowly. Then she turned away.
He stood his ground, not wanting to
startle her. Instead, he craned his neck and took the chance to survey her
face.
She must’ve been pretty once, but the
place drained all of her energy and the light of her eyes. Her hair was dry,
not even cut properly, and she was very thin. The circles beneath her eyes
obviously suggested that she had not been getting enough sleep. Her lips were
cracked, but Tristan was more concerned about her eyes.
They were dull and lifeless. He could
be lost in those depths if he stared long enough, of that he was quite sure.
He didn’t step forward just yet.
“Hello, Reeya.” he said in a moderated
voice; loud enough for her to hear, but quiet enough not to scare her away. He
had trained this hundreds of times, but never tried it on a severe patient
before now. He tried to calm his apprehension.
“My name is Tristan,” he continued,
but she still stared at the wall blankly, “I’m here to help you get better.”
When there weren’t any stirrings at
all, he wasn’t dismayed. He knew it would be hard, and situations like this
naturally take a lot of time, and he’s willing to be patient.
“Can I sit next to you?” he said
again, maintaining his friendly cadence. But she didn’t give him any sign that
she acknowledged what he just said, let alone his very presence.
“I’ll sit next to you, okay? We can
talk for a while.” he waited for three seconds before he trusted himself enough
to step forward. He took another step. And another.
He was right in front of her now, but
Reeya was still staring ahead blankly, hugging herself. Tristan licked his lips
and smiled at her, hoping his good aura would reach out to her somewhat.
Still no response.
He cleared his throat and slowly
shifted his feet, but the movement caused his necklace to swing, and now it was
on full view.
Tristan gulped. Don’t be nervous, he told himself, it’s just a necklace… Her blank expression turned to one of boredom
as she raised her eyes to look at the crucifix.
Now Tristan wished he’d left the thing
with the in-charge.
Quicker than he expected, she got out
of bed and pushed him back against the wall, he banged his head quite hard, but
the pain wasn’t registered as Reeya grasped his neck with both of her small
hands, cutting out his air.
The doctor’s eyes were wide, his adrenaline
on full rush. He couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening.
Kate!
He glanced at the door, looking for the nurse. Where the hell are you?!
“You – you sure you want to do that, Reeya?” he
asked with difficulty. Tristan tried to pry her hands away, but although she was
small, she was also determined. A cough escaped him, “I’m not going to – God – ” he was slowly suffocating.
Stupidly, he didn’t even want to push her away. With her frail figure, he’d probably
end up injuring her. And he didn’t want that. He’ll help her first.
He managed to grab her hands and pull
them an inch away from his skin. Tristan took the opportunity to breathe in air
and to speak, “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you.” She looked
lifeless, and he was certain no response was forthcoming, so he continued, “I’ll
visit you everyday, alright? I’ll help you get better until you can get out of here.
Would you like that?”
She shook her hands out of his and
went back to her dingy bed, resumed her original position, looking at the wall
with soulless eyes.
No,
Tristan thought. Not soulless. Even
if she took an attempt on his life, he refused to believe that. She wasn’t
herself. He’ll help her to be.
As he went back to the door, he wasn’t
the list bit disappointed. Remarkably, he was more determined than ever.
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