By day, the psych ward was bright, almost cheery. The walls were cornflower blue, the trim and floor tiles white. Windows lined the exterior walls, letting the sunshine enter in a merry dance. Residents could be found gazing out the windows. Catatonics were placed in front of them to stare blindly at the green foliage and distant purple mountain range. Whether they actually saw anything was another question, but they were made as comfortable as possible, and were well cared for. The patients enjoyed many activities, from bingo to light yoga. There was both a fully stocked movie room and a fully stocked library. There were even board games and video games, though Rose had yet to see anyone playing these. The smell was clean and sharp, lemon and cleaning products mixed with the scent of fresh laundry.
Her bright-eyed optimism initially had her in awe of the pleasant ward, the effective way it seemed to run during her interview and day-time trial period as a new CNA. The staff were friendly, the patients quiet and malleable, willing to let her take their blood pressure, test their pulses and O2, and overall check them for wellness. The life of a CNA wasn't glorious, but Rose had been awakened to this truth during her training and clinicals at a local nursing home. It wasn't pretty being the one to bathe residents, change their padding and sheets, feed them, and empty the urine from the bags that hung from their hospital beds and wheelchairs, a constant reminder of what age wrought, no matter the type of life lived up to that point. Age held no bias.
Once she was hired on full-time, having passed her trial period with flying colors, they moved her to nights. It seemed to her as if the day folks suddenly looked at her in a different way upon hearing her new assignment. They gave her one more week on days so she could prepare for the schedule change, but the warm glowy feeling she'd gotten steadily diminished each day leading up to the new assignment. The other CNAs, and even the RNs, gave her more distance. The playful chitchat she'd partaken in with them came to an end. Their glances became wary, pitying. She couldn't imagine why they would behave this way, and it hurt, as she'd thought she was making friends at this new job.
She had the thought that, perhaps, she had done something wrong and they weren't telling her. Had she unknowingly crossed someone, some line, and now they were banding together against her? This had happened to her in a waitressing job she'd held back home, but this was supposed to be a fresh start in a new place. No more bullying and cliques. No more melting into tears each morning before work. She'd fit in right from the beginning here, only to now feel entirely isolated once more.
The doctors showed her the same level of professional indifference they had the entire time. They weren't much for socializing with the lower echelons, despite the fact it was the grunts that kept their jobs running smoothly. They weren't unkind or even rude, save one man who occasionally came in as an expert, and who treated everyone abusively, no matter their status. He even spoke to other doctors as if they were filth beneath his feet, and a hardship to deal with. As for the others, their continued apathy reassured her.
Rose continued with her work, though everything seemed a bit dimmer, the patients more restless. What had initially been excitement evolved into a type of dread, though she had no concrete reason for it.
She told herself she was seeing something that did not exist, imagining ills that were not real, all because she was sad to be leaving her friends. She would, of course, make new friends on the night shift. Sure, there would be fewer staff around at night, but one only had so much room for friendships. Plus, this was a job, not a friendship factory. It was okay to hope for more from the job, but not to expect it. She figured there was also the natural hesitance about change. Even the pressure of proving she was up for the job wasn't as heavy as the pressure of now having to prove they were right to have chosen her.
On her last day, Beth, a slight, mousy CNA Rose had previously become close to, edged up to her during end-of-shift paperwork. Beth's large eyes appeared even bigger than usual, damp and shining. She placed a hand on Rose's upper arm and gave a gentle squeeze. "Be safe."
Rose couldn't take the weird behavior anymore. She'd suffered for an entire week. "What's wrong with the night shift?"
Beth didn't answer right away. Instead, she glanced along the hallway to each side of them, hunching her shoulders and dipping her chin.
"Well?" Rose asked. "Why is everyone acting so strangely? I thought we all got along."
"It's not that. It's just...nights are different."
"How so?"
"I've never worked them. But, it's just, night CNAs don't last long. Something changes them." She looked around one more time before continuing. "You know the lady we always sit in the best place in the sunroom? The spot where that one peak is at its most glorious, and the trees frame it perfectly?"
"Yes."
"She was on night shift. A CNA like you and me."
Rose's stomach dropped, plumbing the depths of her insides. The woman in question didn't even blink. Staff had to regularly put drops in to keep her eyes moist. They had to wipe her mouth and chin of drool. Her hands had clenched and tightened into twisted claws.
"That can't have been the job. It's the same facility, same patients. You're all being ridiculous."
There was nothing more to say. After a quick hug, Beth walked away from her, steps still uneasy. She looked back once, called up a strained smile, and waved.
"Ridiculous," Rose whispered. There was no way one shift could differ so fiercely from another.
***
What Rose discovered upon entering the psych ward her first night on the new job was that it was a wholly different place once the sun dipped behind those same mountains, now black, threatening masses. The windows gleefully let the darkness of the night leak inside, overtaking the bright white flooring, and they stared at those trapped inside with the same soulless gaze as the catatonics. The walls became drab, stained and marred, as did the floors. Everything looked gray and filthy, and even the smells had changed, attacking her senses with body odor, excrement, and something dank and dusty beneath it all.
You're being silly, she told herself. It's the same damn place.
A grim-faced RN named Autumn greeted her at the nurse's station. "Put your things away. You'll be doing rounds with Karl to check that everyone's ready for dinner, and then you'll bring them to the dining room except those who eat in their rooms."
No hello. No welcome. Business up front. Well, Rose could deal with a grouchy nurse. It certainly wouldn't be enough to turn her catatonic, but it was a stark change from the day nurses, who had been friendly, albeit efficient. Apparently, Nurse Ratched here had never gotten the memo that you could be both friendly and efficient.
"Yes, ma'am."
Rose ran into the small staff room to put her things into a locker. She washed her hands, as they were always supposed to do when coming onto shift, scratched an itch on her nose with the back of her wrist (they weren't allowed to touch their hair or faces once they'd washed their hands, yet something always managed to itch as soon as the faucet shut off), and tucked her pen and stethoscope into her scrub pockets. All set, she went back to the nurse's station to await Karl.
He arrived only about one minute after her, saving her from Autumn's icy, awkward silence. He had light brown skin, dark eyes and nicely trimmed hair that lay close to his head. A blue, long-sleeved shirt ran out of from under the short sleeves of his regulation black scrubs. His shirt, unlike hers, had a pocket on the breast, and out of it poked a pen with feather hair and googly eyes. He nodded in lieu of a handshake that would force them both to re-wash their hands, and said, "Hey, name's Karl. I see you're Rose, my trainee for the night. You ready?"
"Sure am." Relief flooded Rose at the discovery that not everyone was as unfriendly as Autumn. "I worked day shift the last month, so I'm familiar with the facility, at least."
"Good. Let's do our rounds and get everyone ready for dinner."
Rose followed him to the rooms, where they checked each person's vitals, helped some on with sweaters, got some into wheelchairs, emptied catheter bags, etc. Most could take care of themselves, but their vitals still had to be checked and logged.
"We'll plug their vitals into the computer then get everyone to dinner. There are some part-time CNAs who help with dinner and bed before taking off. Then it will be just the two of us."
"How long have you been on nights?" Rose asked.
"Six months."
Instantly, Rose felt better. He seemed nice and normal, not like he was cracking at the edges or preparing for catatonia. "Do you like it?"
"It's quiet. Anything I can say that about is going to rank high. Less staff, most of the patients sleeping. Gives me time to think. Having said that, we still have to be on our toes, maybe even more so than day shift, because we're listening for anything out of the ordinary. You learn to depend on all your senses to tell you if something's wrong, so listen to your intuition. If anything feels wrong, check it. Better safe than sorry."
"There's nothing...weird, is there? Nothing I should be afraid of?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know. It's just that the day staff were odd when they found out I'd be working nights. One of them made it sound like I was walking into Purgatory."
Karl laughed. "No, nothing like that. This is a psych ward, so of course there are weird things, and often unpleasant things, but it's all part of the job, and you experience that during the day, too."
"That I'm prepared for."
"Great."
They completed dinner with no incident, though she couldn't say it was as smooth a process as lunch and breakfast had been. Some of the patients were more restless than they'd been earlier in the day, some less willing to cooperate. Still, it was all in the job, and she knew from her class that this could happen. Now they had to get everyone ready for bed. For those who took care of themselves, she gave them ample time to get ready before checking in on them. For those who needed full care, the catatonics mostly, she provided ADLs (activities of daily living, like tooth brushing, hair brushing, cleaning, peri-care, etc.). It took about two hours, but once everyone had been safely tucked into bed, lights out, vitals taken once again, she and Karl got to take a lunch break. The three other CNAs said their goodbyes, retrieved their items from the break room, and took off.
While things felt less oppressive than when she had first arrived, Rose couldn't help but feel on edge now that they'd completed the busy work. She and Karl took turns doing rounds and responding to call buttons. It was a lot like her time in the nursing home had been, only she was keenly aware that these folks were mentally ill, some possibly dangerous, though she hadn't seen any hint of that during the day. For those who were prone to violence or escape attempts, there were notations in their files. However, the full files, the ones showing what they had done to land here, were not available to CNAs.
Karl ran over what she could expect. "Mr. Petersen has a tendency to take off all his clothes and streak down the hall. You'll also want to watch for his busy fingers. He's a bit of a perv, but maybe you've experienced that during the day. Ms. Lansley sporadically cries and sometimes has issues with night terrors, so if there's screaming, always check her room first. Mr. Danzig is another insomniac. We give him a sleeping pill, but there are nights it doesn't work. The ones you need to watch for violence are Mr. Samson, Mr. Bevans, and Ms. Yakimodo. She'll claw you, but it's what's under her nails you should worry about, more than the scratches themselves. Mr. Bevans used to be a pugilist, and probably quite the scrapper outside of the ring, based on the delusions he has about who he's fighting. Mr. Samson is the one to really watch. He can be incredibly violent, and it comes out of nowhere. He will kick, hit, tackle, pinch, scratch, and bite." At this point, Karl pulled up his sleeve. He had a series of scars in the shape of a bite mark. "Got me my second night."
There were a few more patients with issues, but overall it wasn't so bad. Some of these behaviors were found in the nursing home, as well. Not a big deal. In fact, it would break up the monotony if someone started screaming.
The rest of the night went well, with Autumn checking on them from time to time. No screaming, no attacks. Rose resisted the temptation to pop in on the day folks and say, "I told you so," since it was only her first day.
***
On Sunday, her fifth day, Rose showed up to work feeling cheerful and ready for the night. She'd adjusted to nights for the most part, and she enjoyed Karl's company. Autumn hadn't gotten any friendlier, but Rose didn't care. She figured she'd get under the ice queen's exterior eventually.
As usual, dinner service went well, bed time went well, and Rose settled in for the rest of the night. She and Karl had taken to sneaking travel games of Scrabble and chess during the early morning hours to keep themselves occupied. Tonight, they were playing a game of Uno at the main desk, each keeping an ear open for the squeaky approach of Autumn's shoes, so they could swipe the cards into the drawer and look busy with charts. There'd been quite a few minor interruptions—the patients were more unsettled than usual—but they had all been sorted easily enough, sending Rose and Karl back to their game.
Karl won the hand and gathered the cards, handing them to Rose. "Midnight. My turn to do rounds."
He disappeared down the hallway, shoes silent on the tiles. Rose pulled out a chart to make a note from earlier. Whenever Karl left Rose alone, the darkness of the ward crept up on her. Shadows slithered closer. The silence grew deeper. Tonight was no different. A single desk lamp lit the nurse's station. Beyond that, all was dark to encourage the patients to sleep. Rose had a hard time seeing anything outside the small, warm cocoon of light, and it felt like she was perched inside a precarious bubble of safety. Outside that bubble, something could be staring in at her, invisible against the light shining into her eyes. Anything, or anyone, could sneak up on her. That didn't seem terribly safe when dealing with dangerous people.
Rose closed the folder and re-filed it. She tapped the pencil on the counter, waiting.
A creeping sensation of dread came over her. It had no source, save the darkness surrounding her. She felt like she was being watched, like something stalked her.
Displaced air drifted across her face, stroking along her cheek. She jerked backward.
She stood up, covering the top of the lamp with her hand to deflect the light and help her eyes adjust to the dark. Her chair bumped into the wall behind her, startling her.
There was no one in the hall or the area around the nurse's station. She stood there for another minute, straining her senses. Nothing. She settled back into her chair to wait.
Fifteen minutes later, long after Karl should have returned, a call light popped on. The small, smooth red bulbs were aligned in two rows down a switchboard on the backsplash of the desk, which rose up to a secondary desk just below chest height. The red was a bright beacon against the faint amber glow of the lamp. Rose took note of the room, 12A, stood up, and made sure her pen and stethoscope were in place. It felt colder outside the lamp's light, and she shivered.
The soft fall of her footsteps bounced off the walls. Snores and peaceful breaths alternated from the rooms she passed.
12A belonged to Ms. Lansley, who preferred to be called Rhonda. Rose used the wall dispenser to get hand sanitizer, rubbing her hands together as she peered into the room. A gentle green glow came from an electronic clock that shined the time on the ceiling over the hospital bed. The sheets were in disarray, the bed empty. The call light glowed red on this end, and Rose pressed it to turn it off.
"Rhonda? Where are you?"
There was no answer, save a creeping sensation up Rose's back, so she walked over to the door, shut it, and turned the room's overhead light on. The fluorescents flickered, as they were wont to do, and Rose stood still to adjust her eyes before stepping farther into the room.
Aside from the bed, the room held a nightstand, a desk, an easy chair, and a single desk chair. An e-book reader rested on the nightstand next to a plastic cup of water. No picture frames were allowed, as they could be broken and made into weapons, but Rhonda had taped up a couple photos of her late husband. To Rose, he looked aggressive and angry, dangerous, but she couldn't say that aloud to anyone. Still, sometimes she wondered if Rhonda's night terrors stemmed from life with a man like him.
A quick sweep showed an empty room, so Rose checked the small bathroom. There was no one there, but the toilet ran as if it had been flushed within the last few minutes. She jiggled the handle, just in case, more out of habit than anything, and returned to the hallway door. She sanitized her hands once more, as required, shut off the light, and opened the door into the hallway. All was quiet out there, and the room's emptiness at her back pushed her out, eager to escape the hollow feel of it.
She went back to the nurse's station to find Karl, but he still wasn't there. Nor was Autumn. Not that Rose had expected to find her there, other than the fact that it was past time for her usual walkthrough.
Something was wrong. Karl had been gone far longer than usual, Autumn hadn't checked in for a couple hours, and now a patient had gone missing. Rose pulled out the binder that held information on their codes and protocols. She hastily flipped through the pages, trying to find anything that might tell her what to do. Should she turn on the main hallway lights? Call for backup?
No, too early. Probably Karl had just found a restless patient who wanted some company. She needed to find him so he could help her search for Rhonda. This was a locked ward, so she couldn't have gotten far.
Rose couldn't turn the main lights on. If there was one thing she'd found in the notebook, it was that turning on the lights, which could wake all the patients, should be kept as a last resort. They would be anything but orderly if awakened in the middle of the night. If she couldn't find Karl, she would shut the doors and turn the light on. And she would page Autumn. She hoped it wouldn't come to that, as she didn't want to get Karl into trouble for disappearing. Her absolute discomfort with the darkness and the odd consequences was not allowed to overrule her common sense.
Back down the hallway she went, this time with the intention of checking each room for any sign of Karl or the missing patient. She'd check A—the left side—first, since that's where Karl had gone, and where Rhonda was missing from. In fact, it might be that the two had found each other and were having a late night chat. Rhonda wasn't typically talkative, but sometimes she liked a chat, especially when she couldn't sleep. Management usually frowned on this, but Karl had taught Rhonda that some rules were meant to be bent.
The first room she came to was pitch black. Most patients had an electronic device or night light that shed a little light on the room, but not all of them. Mr. Danzig liked his room as dark as possible, often complaining about the small amount of light coming from the nurse's station. Rose didn't understand why they couldn't just move him down to the end of one of the hallways so he had nothing to complain about, but apparently once you were in a room, you were there to stay.
She stepped inside to listen for the sounds of breathing. It took a moment, her ears straining, eyes widening to compensate for the darkness, but there came a deep, slow breath, let out in a faint snore. If Karl or Rhonda were in the room, surely they would be able to see her, even if she couldn't see them, so she decided the room was empty save for Mr. Danzig.
Her room by room search continued until she reached about three-quarters of the way down the A hall, a few doors past Rhonda's room. First, she heard heavy breathing, panting. She froze where she stood, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound.
A pulse of adrenaline shot through her body, and she realized how vulnerable she was, standing in the dark. She backed against the wall, looking straight ahead so she could hear on both sides. No one could sneak up on her this way.
The breathing continued, and now a faint voice joined it. No words, only sounds. Moans.
Shit.
In the nursing home, it wasn't unusual for patients to have an active sex life. Though the nurses were not to encourage it, they also were not allowed to break it up if they discovered someone having sex. After all, they were consenting adults. Here, in the psych ward, they were most definitely not consenting adults, being mentally ill, most of them forced to stay here against their will. Problem being, that most of the folks here in the psych ward were younger than those in the nursing home, and several had no self-control due to their particular flavor of mental illness.
And what if it wasn't sex? What if something else was going on, and she stood out here and ignored it? She had to at least be sure.
Convinced that it was, in fact, what she had initially thought, Rose left the wall to follow the sounds to their origin. She still felt exposed and vulnerable, but just knowing someone else was awake and not far from her helped. She crept along, her shoes as quiet as Karl's, until she got to a doorway, as pitch black as Mr. Danzig's, where the sounds came from. She stood outside for a moment, trying to get a better feel for what she was hearing. A mewling had been added to the mix of panting and vocalizing. There were several voices involved, and a slapping, as of flesh on flesh.
Once again, she hesitated. Surely, no one was being murdered in a pitch dark room. Still, there were dangerous offenders here, people who had committed violent crimes, though they were here in this particular psych ward because they were not thought to be repeat offenders, or to need actual prison time, and it wasn't expected that they'd commit those same crimes here. Once again, she knew she had to be sure. Steeling herself, she moved into the doorway, where heat pulsated, surprising her. If anything, the ward usually ran cold. They weren't allowed personal heaters, so there was no reason it should be so damned hot. Now she knew something weird was going on. Reaching over, she flipped on the light, only to stand transfixed in the dim glow from one flickering fluorescent; the others refused to light, though a low hum told her they were trying.
Before her, on the hospital bed, knelt Rhonda, on her hands and knees facing the door. She made the noises Rose had heard in the hallway, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat, breasts swaying in rhythm with her movements. Her eyes were closed, a big grin stretching her face.
Behind her was Mr. Petersen, sweat running down his face, dripping from his chin. He had a hand wrapped in Rhonda's hair and pounded away behind her, his eyes also closed. His other arm stretched above his head, stroking the throat of a being that made no sense. It was large, covered in wiry muscle, its skin gray. Wings spread out behind it, one folded against the wall the bed leaned against, the other high and outstretched, the tip grazing the ceiling with its own thrusts. The creature stared directly at her, smile stretching abnormally across its face, revealing pointed teeth and a black tongue, which protruded and swept across its lips.
Rose choked. She couldn't make any other sound, couldn't move. She stared, transfixed, at the copulating threesome, one otherworldly. If she tried to stop them, she risked angering that thing.
She backed out of the room, eyes never leaving the being's, until she hit something solid. A hand clamped down on her shoulder.
"What are you doing down here?"
Rose whipped around, darting away from the person behind her to once again put her back against the wall. "Get away from me."
Karl stood before her. His face had changed, mouth elongated, eyes deep set. He rubbed a hand over his head, smiling at her in a drowsy, contented manner. "What's wrong?"
"Where have you been? What were you doing?"
"I don't think you're ready to know that."
"Do you know what's happening in there?"
"Yep. We all pay a price in this place."
"I don't belong here." She was certain of that.
"You don't end up here unless you belong. You're not as pure as you pretend to be."
"Where's Autumn? Does she know about this?"
"Know about it? She's the head nurse. It's her job to ensure everything goes as planned. The price must be extracted, and she's the bookkeeper."
None of this made sense. There was only one reason she might be here, and no one knew about it. She'd kept it a secret from everyone, and she'd covered it up thoroughly. Even the police and fire marshals hadn't caught on that a crime had been committed. It had been declared an unfortunate mistake, a fluke.
"I see the wheels turning in your head. Thinking about your sins?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Funny, that's what everyone says. But you know exactly what I'm talking about. Each person here has committed at least one of the cardinal sins. I bet you can guess the prime sin of the two in that room. But what's yours?"
Behind her, the noises in the room grew more frantic, escalating.
She didn't want to think about what she'd done. It had been wrong, she knew that, but it had felt right to be vindicated in the end. Those women had deserved what she'd done. After the way they'd treated her, not even giving her a chance.
The sounds and smells came back to her. Screams. The pop and hiss of flames. The smell of burning human bodies, of smoke. The rush of heat and the flutter of ash, fine and gray. The almost blinding glow of the flames as the restaurant burned down, the waitresses inside. The waitresses who had made her feel like trash, like she wasn't good enough to be in their presence. The rage rushed through her body, full of heat and spikes, and she remembered how she'd felt each day on the way into work. When she woke up knowing she had to go in and deal with those bitches again.
"That's it. Now you've got it." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, like he was enjoying the smell of a rich stew. "Keep focusing on that."
All along the hallway, there were more sounds. Screams, groans, impacts. There were cries for help and cries of ecstasy. The entire ward came to life in horrible ways, and behind her, in that room, they were still going at it, the sounds now all pain, no pleasure, no sign of waning soon.
Now there were grunts, the impacts harder and harder. Whimpers.
She broke and ran back toward the nurse's station and the stairs that would lead her to the main floor and an exit. She tried to ignore the sounds coming from each room, refusing to look over lest she see something she didn't want to see. Still, her senses were assaulted. In one room, wet sounds followed impacts, as of someone being stabbed or bludgeoned repeatedly. In another, someone prayed in a high pitched shriek.
The walls closed in on her, rends and tears appearing in their surfaces. The floor tiles shifted, breaking and sliding, and she leapt forward, trying to get away. She hit a crooked tile hard enough to cause her to fall. She sprawled, cutting her hands and knees on shards of ceramic.
It grew hotter and hotter. Sweat slid down her back, her forehead, between her breasts. It dripped off of her, and still it grew hotter. Her skin blistered, pain so intense she couldn't think past it, couldn't try to get away.
She crawled forward, frantic to escape the searing heat. The ground burned every inch of her it touched, turning her scrubs into ash.
Before her, a figure appeared, similar to the one who had been with Rhonda and Mr. Petersen. Its large feet had talons on the tips of all six toes. Hairy legs gave way to scales at the groin. It squatted before her, put a claw under her chin, and forced her to look up at it. "Do you admit your sins?"
They had deserved what they had gotten. Surely it was no sin to take retribution on women who were victimizing others, victimizing her. They'd stolen her tips, put all their dishes on her table, messed with her orders, stolen her tables, harassed her, mocked her. They had been the sinners, not her.
"No," she choked out.
"Then you shall burn."
The screams tore from her throat as the heat increased. Her very blood boiled. Her eyes blurred more and more, until full blindness hit, and she could feel her eyes, boiling, running down her face. And then it was her skin. All of her flesh, running like lava along her nerves. Either she no longer produced a sound, or her eardrums no longer existed to convey the screams to her brain. She tasted char until she could taste no more.
The agony didn't stop, but it rewound, over and over. The heat didn't go away, but it faded then resurged. Her vision came back, only to disappear again.
Her pain was everlasting.
Finally, she realized what she had done, but it was too late to end this.
***
By day, the psych ward was bright, almost cheery. The walls were cornflower blue, the trim and floor tiles white. Windows lined the exterior walls, letting the sunshine enter in a merry dance. Beth rolled Rose up to the window with the best view, tucking her blankets around her thin body, nice and snug. She wiped Rose's mouth, ran a hand through her silky hair, and walked away to get the next catatonic. Outside, the trees wavered in a slight breeze, fanning the highest peak.