TW: Homophobia, very brief sex mention, general mistreatment and mild violent treatment
"Alrighty, that's all the paperwork done, so, uh, if you'd like to say goodbye to your parents and then follow me." The receptionist smiles in an over-exaggerated fake way that makes me want to punch her.
Realistically, I could back out now. The double mahogany doors to this large hospital are wide open. The building is a whole four stories tall and has a basement - it's about three times bigger than the previous hospital. Large cream coloured bricks comprise the outer walls, and the window frames are painted a bright white. This is a very modern building, in both construction and technology wise. The front desk matches the dark wood of the doors and has a typewriter sitting on it, which is pretty state of the art. My headteacher's office has one - or, old headteacher now. I never understood why someone would type out something with ink rather than just writing it, but it does make my paperwork look a lot more formal.
The floor is hardwood in a light oak colour, and it clashes horribly with the darker wood on the desk and furnishing chairs as previously mentioned. Then again, I can't really critique their indoor interior design skills, I can't even hold a pen properly without my hand shaking. The lights are a much harsher, cool white colour than I would expect - it really makes this place seem like a hospital apposed to just a building they've put beds in.
I turn to my mother, who places her hands on my shoulders. "Don't get yourself into too much trouble, hm? I'll try my best to visit, but, I- well, it depends on what kind of mood your father's in, you know how he is."
That I do.
Nodding, I turn on my heel, not even bothering to look to my father for any kind of goodbye. I don't care quite honestly.
The woman walks towards a set of white painted double doors with a lock on them, and takes a key off a keyring attached to a belt loop. She's wearing a navy blue long sleeve dress with puffy sleeves and a skirt that falls all the way down to her ankles. Underneath that, I can see white socks and black dress shoes with slight heels. Over the dress is a freshly washed white apron that covers her torso and about half of her skirt. As well as this, her hair is tied in a neat bun with a white laced headband on top. Judging by the other few nurses I've seen, this seems to be the general uniform for them.
She plunges the key into the lock and turns it, opening the doors and ushering me to follow. Once I've stepped through, the loud atmosphere of the reception fades away with my freedom.
The woman turns around. "I'll take your bag for you doll, just make sure there's nothing dangerous in there, that's all." She takes my shoulder bag from me and continues walking into another room, which she ushers me to follow her into.
"Seventeen year old male, going to room 5B under a level 2 watch. Paperwork code #02434" She says to a tall man wearing a white coat and dark blue shirt with black trousers.
"Thank you, Lilabeth, carry on." His voice is coarse and dismissing.
The nurse leaves with my bag while this man shuffles around with some papers, eventually pulling one out and turning to me.
"So, Virgil..?" He reads my name off the sheet of paper, as if he expects it to be wrong. "If you'd kindly just remove your jacket and lift your arms towards the ceiling for me so I can pat you down." I do as he says purely because I'd like to get on these doctor's good sides.
He uses the backs of his hands to make sure I haven't got anything in my pockets, which I know I don't, but it's still a little nerve racking.
He smiles. "Perfect, if you'd just take a seat on my table here, Virgil." I quietly do as he says. "So, how are you then?" He looks to me for a response. "Don't worry, I'm not a therapist or anything, just trying to make some small talk."
I nod. "I, uh, I'm alright. Well, y-you know, as a-alright as you c-can be in this kind of en-environment."
"Of course." Wrinkles form on his cheeks and forehead when he smiles sympathetically. "You haven't got any illnesses or health conditions I should be aware of, have you? Asthma, diabetes, anaemia, homosexuality, or anything of the sort?"
I turn my head slightly and look out the door. "No, don't w-worry."
"Good, good. Do you wear contact lenses by any chance?" I shake my head.
"Are you sexually active?"
I stifle a laugh. "No, I'm not."
"Good answer." He pauses. "I'll give you some clothes to change into, and take your shoes off, they only make it easier for people to run away. I'll be making notes on your paperwork, just get changed behind me."
I gulp and slide off the table, kicking my shoes off.
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Once I've changed into the musky blue t-shirt and black joggers, I'm grabbed by my wrists, rather gently, and a white plastic tie is placed around my them, binding them together almost painfully.
The door then opens, and another nurse enters. This time, she looks different. As in, rather than the navy blue dress that all the others wear, her dress is a dark maroon red. She looks me up and down as if I'm a dead animal on the side of the road, grimacing.
"Hello, young man. My name is Nurse Beckett. You will very quickly grow to dislike me, and I don't quite care about your opinion, so, keep it to yourself. I'm the head nurse here, also deputy head coordinator of treatments, so I'd advise that it's in your best interest not to get on my bad side. Having just said that, I'm already not too fond of you, and I'm certain you'll feel the same towards me in the next ten minutes."
I raise my eyebrows in slight confusion. What does she mean by that?
"I had a little chat with your father: James, was it? Yes, well, I'd like to make sure that it's absolutely clear to you that I won't be tolerating any kind of disrespect towards me or ANY of my staff. Got it?"
"Yes ma'am." I reply on autopilot, slightly tugging at the binds around my wrists.
She reaches forward quickly and grabs my arms, beginning to briskly walk, slightly dragging me along the floor. "I'm going to make an example of you. Your father tells me that you've been nothing but ungrateful and disrespectful towards him, and hone zero respect for your elders."
"That's n-not exactly t-true. He's one of the o-only adults I don't r-respect."
"Do not talk back to me."
She walks into a large room, and it's full of people eating food. These aren't kids my age though, they're more around twelve to fourteen. I suddenly feel very greatful that I wasn't admitted to a hospital as a younger teenager.
For a brief moment, her hand disconnects from my wrists in order to make a loud clapping noise and grab the attention of all who are eating. At once, every child looks towards her.
"Children. This is one of our older patients. I won't be telling you his name, because he doesn't deserve the respect of being correctly addressed. You will call him zero-two-four-three-four, and he will be spending the remainder of your lunchtime waiting on you: refilling your water, taking your plates to the counter, et cetera. I don't want any pleases or thank yous. Treat this young man as a servant of your house. DO NOT develop an attitude of entitlement. This is his punishment, not your reward. He will also be cleaning up the hall after you leave. Is all of that understood?"
A mixed chorus of 'Yes Nurse Beckett's fill the room, and she hums, nodding and undoing my wrist ties, and patting me twice on the back in encouragement before turning and leaving the room.
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1393 words
YOU ARE READING
Alive
FantasyThe third book in the Insane Series, read Insane and Normal (which can be found on my profile) before this !) Virgil, in all honesty, hasn't had the best of luck in the last year. He's been hospitalised for "insanity", got one of the county's bigge...
