Havoc

Jamie From Psych

My name is Jamie from Psych, only that's not my actual full name. Just what people called me. And I'd like to tell you the day that I was reunited with her.

The day started like any other day.

I drove to work, got there at around 7:45 and let myself into the hospital, using the side entrance that leads straight to the hallway where the unit is because it's faster. I put my things in the staff room, greet the night staff, make myself a cup of tea while waiting for the rest of the day staff to arrive before listening to the handover. The events of last night or in this case, because there was a shift change, the events of the previous days as well.

Completely normal, nothing unusual.

We had gotten word about the Jane Doe a couple of days ago and the possibility of her needing an assessment done. The only reason that the referral hadn't been completed yet was because she had yet to be medically cleared yet.

Poor girl. It sounded like an awful story.

Found wandering around the street, barely clothed, dehydrated and confused. Police and ambulance came to assess her and despite being conscious and alert she was unresponsive to their questions. But based on the fact that there were visible signs of potential abuse she was brought in to hospital.

The night staff informed us that she has been officially cleared, medically speaking. She's no longer dehydrated, she's eating well and the wounds on her feet from walking barefoot for God knows how long were healed. The only issue left is that she will not talk to the police about what happened to her, if she was attacked or if she was held captive somewhere. In fact, they say that she won't talk to anyone or even acknowledge their presence.

They're querying catatonia which seemed a bit extreme in both my opinion and the rest of my colleagues opinions.

The poor girl was likely in shock, not that I would blame her.

Psych Liaison apparently already tried and got nothing. She never even looked their way or gave any indication that she knew that they were there.

Based on this we would've thought that they would've professionally told the medical staff that she was in shock and hence not in an appropriate position to have a psych evaluation.

Only that didn't happen.

They sent a report stating that they also think that she could benefit from inpatient care.

This came as a surprise to everyone and people were annoyed. We don't have a lot of beds to begin with and I guess they were worried that this would be a waste of a bed.

At the end of the day, it's not our decision. It's the consultant's and I don't know why but I was volunteered to accompany him for the assessment.

I personally felt that a female nurse would've been more appropriate but I couldn't be bothered arguing so I agreed.

The time came and I went with the consultant up to the medical ward where she was being treated. A nurse guided us to her bed, a private side room so that she couldn't hurt anyone. Only she wasn't there.

We were understandably mad.

How could they have lost her?

Where could she have gone?

Was wasn't someone watching her?

Alarms were sounded and we proceeded to search for her, only to find her walking along the railing of the balcony like she was an acrobat walking a tightrope.

Her head was down, watching her toes and she seemed unfazed by the group of staff trying to coax her down. As I got closer I could hear her humming a nursery rhyme, London Bridge. It was only when I had joined the crowd next to her that I recognized her.

Small stature, pale skin, blue eyes and brown hair that seemed to have flecks of blonde.

It was her, there was no denying it. It was Emma.

Only her small soft stature was now very thin, too thin and her pale skin was bruised and her arms were covered in numerous scars some burns others cuts. Her bright blue eyes which were once cheerful and friendly seemed dark and gave off the impression of a wild animal patiently waiting for the right moment to pounce on its prey. Then her brown hair which once looked soft and reached the small of her back was now choppy and dull and barely reached her shoulders.

But even still, it was Emma.

Not that it really mattered because I'm not Jamie, this is not his point of view only what I imagined going on in his head and I'm not Emma.

At least, not any more.

I'm all new now and poor Jamie was about find out.