You patiently watched from afar as the guards rounded up the patients and brought them in the cafeteria for lunch. Some were still chained up; they had to be chained to the table that they were seated at.
"I'll take this," Anais says, pulling the file from you.
You hear footsteps approach behind you, making your head turn. It's Mr. Thompson.
"Hey," you say with a smile. Mr. Thompson points to your leg. "I heard what happened with Pennywise." You nod, feeling embarrassed.
"Yeah... sorry. I still have to work with Pennywise." Mr. Thompson shakes his head in disbelief.
"Don't worry about it. You've already done more to connect with the patients than any other caretaker has in the past. It's quite remarkable, actually."
Your face brightens with this compliment. "Thank you very much." Mr. Thompson chuckles. "It's nothing. But still, I hope that all of the patients aren't giving you too much trouble. If any of them do, be sure to tell me." You nod.
"I will."
Mr. Thompson walks away, Anais following closely behind. What do I do now? You see a kitchen where people are making the food. You walk toward the room. The smell that escapes it is chemical-like. Suddenly, a man bursts through the door, holding trays of weird, grey slop. You watch in disgust. Is this what they're feeding them? You can smell a soapy kind-of-smell arising from the 'food'.
"Excuse me," you stop the man. He looks you up and down, his face struck with confusion. "Who are you? I think you're in the wrong place." You shake your head politely, suddenly noticing a large grease stain, as well as ketchup remains on his white t-shirt. The smell radiating off of him is sour and dirty.
"No, I'm the new caretaker here. I'm just wondering, what exactly are you feeding the patients here?" The man chortles.
"Why does it matter to you? They're killers." You frown.
"I get that. But still, showing some kindness can't hurt." The man wrinkles his nose in a judgmental way. "You must be as insane as they are to believe that they deserve kindness." And with that, he hands you the trays of 'food,' before walking away. What an imprudent slob.
"Jeez, some people," you mutter before walking into the kitchen, trays in hand.
You rest the trays on the counter and see two people cleaning up after making the killers' food. Two men are busy chatting when they look up at you.
"I'm going to make the food from now on," you announce to them. The two share a collective look of surprise.
"Fine by me. Those killers don't deserve our cooking," one of the men say, receiving a chuckle from the other. You roll your eyes. "What cooking? It smells as if you dumped bleach into this– what even is this?" The two men look at each other.
"It's porridge?..." one answers. "Don't you know what that is?" You give a small, yet sarcastic smile. "Yes, I do... but this isn't porridge. What did you two put in here?"
"Oats, water...." one of them begins.
"A bit of dish soap and vinegar," the other blatantly admits, trying not to laugh. Your eyes widen.
"Vinegar? Dish soap?" you whisper-yell, before waving your hand for them to leave. "Just go. And I don't want to ever see you two, or that other guy in this kitchen again, or else I'll be telling Mr. Thompson about the situation here." The two share glances with one another before shrugging and exiting the kitchen swiftly. What upsets you about all of this is how neither of them feel remorse; they think of it as a joke. I really hope that they don't do this often to the patients. After only being here for mere hours, you feel this strange protection and care over the patients here. The killers. But those labels don't matter to you if it means being able to change them for the better.
YOU ARE READING
𝘚𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳 | 𝘚𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
Fanfiction"She was their savior." After getting laid off from her job, Y/n is forced to go job hunting. Once she finally does find a job at a nearby asylum, she's hired almost immediately. Although Y/n believes this to be an amazing opportunity, she begins to...
