The Second Stage

Wide Awake

Kiara strides through the hospital hallways, her patients stable, her mind at ease. Well, not entirely at ease. She doesn't belong in this wing, this showpiece of architecture, this marvel of financial success. In fairness to her, it isn't any problem with Kiara; this wing doesn't belong in this hospital, perhaps any hospital for this matter. The lights are dimmable LEDs, the speakers hum symphony music. Hell, the halls are so sleek that bobsleds seem more appropriate than gurneys. And all this tucks itself away in the distal extremity of a 1930s brick and mortar carcass.

Some nurses prefer roaming these rooms, imagining they finally made it, they finally reached the culmination of their careers. Kiara doesn't care for the preferential treatment of stable patients, nor for the nasty attitudes they must have purchased at some point. As far as she cares, 'Pomp and Circumstance' hasn't played over these hallway speakers, and until it does, you keep trying and learning.

She isn't venturing to this locale for a patient; she's here for a friend. They found Meredith again; equipment malfunction, she heard. After presenting her to the ER, Dr. Bloom whisked her away to this ivory tower. Kiara swerves around a commotion of students and residents. She releases her ponytail and allows her hair to flutter over her shoulders. Tattoos no longer taboo, she rolls her long sleeves up her forearms.

Room 1129: Meredith Haynes, an LCD screen reads at the door frame. Hers is the only one without a picture. Kiara finds this strange and then comes to the somber realization that she does not.

Meredith appears asleep at first: placidly leaned back against her pillows. But on closer inspection, Kiara notices that her lower eyelids are lifted, twitching. She knocks.

Gaze turned away, Meredith offers no reaction, so Kiara steps in and strolls to Meredith's side. She peers around the expansive space, double the size of the double rooms Kiara's accustomed to. A 60-inch plasma screen clings to the wall. The air conditioning quietly hums. Silk sheets cover the bed. Across the room, an enormous window faces the best view: the boardwalk view. There's white marble tile, white curtains with gold trim, the radiator appeared to be painted gold, the—is that a fireplace? Yup, white tiled fireplace. It gave the impression that Meredith transcended to heaven—ironic, given that the entire purpose of this place is to stop you from going there. Finally, Kiara spots a crack in the paint along the back-right corner and finds herself relieved that the room has a bit of character.

Kiara's eyes pass to Meredith, staring back at her—or through her. Between the wrinkles at the corners of her mouth, she wears a smile—a strange one at that. It's the face someone makes seconds before breaking to tears, the last thin layer of concrete in a cracking dam. Yet, Meredith holds it.

"Hey, MerBear," Kiara leans down to hug Meredith who offers a feeble try at returning the motion. When she pulls away, she finds Meredith's eyes focused and intent.

"Hey," Meredith's voice cracks.

"Rough month, huh?" Kiara flashes a hesitant smile.

Meredith looks to the floor and says nothing.

So, Kiara takes her hand and squeezes it. They remain silent for five minutes and finally, Meredith's brow relaxes as she closes her eyelids. After an appropriately sizable slice of peace, she speaks.

"Is everything okay with you, Meredith?"

"No. I work in a haunted hospital."

Kiara laughs but stops when Meredith doesn't join. "Hun, it ain't haunted. Those rumors are just as stupid as those damn devil worship—"

"What?" Meredith interrupted.

Kiara cringes then recomposes herself. "Stupid. Rumors." She drives the words into her open hand with her fist. "And even if it was haunted or possessed, why the hell would ghosts or the devil terrorize you? If the devil's involved, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't do anything to harm this hospital's profit margin. And if ghosts go about, scarin' bad folks, they would've thrown Doc Bloom from that dumb balcony of his by now."