The Ghost of Our Past (ON HOLD)

Out Of Place

Mr Rye glanced again to a sullen Kiera stirring the sauce with a wooden spoon, her thoughts adrift.

Certainly he wasn't thrilled to allow her to help him but he didn't have the heart to drive her out after what he told her. Especially when she just stood beside him, hands hanging by her side uselessly while her eyes followed the new patient.

It was depressing.

An odd smell rose and Mr Rye sniffed the air cautiously, unsure whether it was coming from his station. It wouldn't be any good if his dishes turn out nastier than usual. Then he realised where it came from and quickly reached out to twist the knob on the stove. Taken aback, Kiera returned from her sullen stupor and stepped back with an apologetic face.

"Oy, kid! Snap out of it!" He roared. He hurried to inspect the sauce and dipped a spoon it for a taste. There wasn't much damage done. A little spice here and there... When he looked up, Kiera had a knife in her hand.

Then she turned away and diced the onions which was what he was doing before being interupted by the smell. It was her way to say sorry, he figured.

"Mr Rye, how's your fear holding up?" She asked suddenly, startling him.

"I'm not so sure myself. When you see Corky, you'll know then." He answered shortly. In truth, the nightmares had gone, vanished. He could look patients in the eye now and occasionally, toss a brief smile. The smile wasn't important. It was the fact that he could do that by choice.

But he didn't want to be too sure. Just in case he would wake up in cold sweat and feel as crushed as the girl felt earlier.

She seemed content with the answer. "I'll come around some days, just to see if he comes out." The answer was short as well.  He noticed there was an ease when she talks about her 'ability', in a way to put it. Perhaps like him, she was accepting her flaws.

Kiera placed the knife down and brushed bits of diced onions of her fingers. Even though she felt better and less lonely, she still wanted to meet Patty. She tried to excuse herself but Mr Rye stopped her, his scowl deepening.

"This is not some playground for you to waltz in and out whenever you want to," he said. He pointed to a dirty station nearby, the cook leaving early because her son came down with measles. "At the very least clean that."

Kiera wrinkled her nose at the mess. She collected the dirty utensils and dumped them into a sink then proceeded to wipe the counter with a damp rag. When the counter was as clean as it could get, Kiera went to the sink next. A patient was already there washing the kitchen utensils. Kiera took in the neatly tied back hair and composed woman and knew it was the 'normal' patient.

She didn't look crazy, that was certain.  When she lifted her head and spotted Kiera, a wary look appeared on her face. The kind that people give to not so sane people. Kiera wasn't sure what to do. Should she approach the woman? Mr Rye's voice echoed in her head, warning her.

More out of curiosity, she decided yo approach the woman anyway.

"You don't have to wash that, you know."

The woman jumped slightly and gave Kiera a nervous smile. 

"Oh, well. It doesn't hurt to help every now and then," she laughed lightly.

"You just want to get out early," Kiera answered, her voice taking on an accusing tone. "What did you do to be here anyway?"

The woman wasn't pleased to be spoken that way, especially by someone who was crazy. She have Kiera a frosty look then rinsed her hands.

"Excuse me then," she said and left with her head tilted high. Kiera watched her leave in confusion. In that case, I won't bother you anymore, Kiera felt like snapping after the woman. She pressed her lips together, keeping her indignant thoughts to herself.

Behave.

She finished washing up and slipped away unnoticed. This time, she was going to look for Patty seriously. She tried looking down the corridors, the main desk and even in front of the psychiatrist's office. When she hit a dead end, Kiera returned to the games room again in hope to see Patty there sitting with her ankles politely crossed and book on her lap.

Instead, she was greeted by the volunteer at the entrance. "You're late for your appointment." He said. He took a few steps ahead, thinking Kiera was going to follow him. Instead she didn't budge, gazing around the room miserably. He cleared his throat awkwardly then tapped Kiera's shoulder.

"We should go."

Kiera gave the room one last look and followed the volunteer. She dreaded meeting the psychiatrist. All those questions and poking around. She'll never tell her the truth.

They reached the office. Kiera had her hand on the door handle when the volunteer spoke up.

"You asked yesterday about the new patient."

Kiera kept quiet and waited for him to continue. He started to fidget, unsure whether to continue.

"She's here because-"  he paused. "She's sick in the head. That's all I can really tell you." 

"Aren't we all? Isn't that why I'm here?" Kiera retorted.

"I'm telling you because you seem to think she's out of place here."

Before Kiera could reply, the door swung open and the psychiatrist stood there with a cat-like smile. "Kiera, why don't you come in?'

Before going in, Kiera asked him,"What about me? Do I look out of place here?'' He stared blankly at her. She could see him recalling the moment she fell onto the floor, screaming and spitting in his face. Her face fell.

"I guess not."