Haunted by the Past (Original)

Chapter 64

"The patient would not stop screaming," I heard a male voice say.

I tried to open my eyes, but my lids were so heavy.

"Quite frankly, it's my recommendation that she is moved to our psych ward," the voice continued. "I've been told of her accusations against our staff."

"Please, Dr. Kline, don't. The feds will be on my case if you do," Parkinson groaned. "What was she screaming about anyway?"

"Uh, something about a message on the ceiling. But our staff looked, there was no message," Dr. Kline replied.

I strained to speak, but it came out only as gibberish.

"What's that, Dani?" Parkinson moved closer to me.

Putting all of my energy in trying to stay focused, I repeated, "Glow paint."

There was a shuffling of feet, then my surroundings grew darker as someone turned the lights off.

"Where?" Parkinson asked.

Using all of my willpower, I struggled to open my eyes. Where the numbers '666' had once been painted, it was now clean. I blinked several times, but still no '666'.

"It was there!" I whined.

"See? She's having a psychological break, sheriff. She needs to be moved to the psych ward," my useless doctor reiterated.

"Dennison!" Parkinson yelled out. "Who's been in the room since I left?"

I couldn't quite make out what the officer in the hallway said so instead my gaze drifted to Dr. Kline. "What you do to me?"

"To you?" he frowned. "Ms. Cooper, you headbutted one of our nurses while she was trying to help you. We had to sedate you again."

"It was him," I mumbled. "He was here."

"Henry Carmichael? He hasn't been in your room since your arrival," he rolled his eyes.

"But he was here..." I trailed off.

Parkinson returned scratching the back of his neck, "Is there any chance that this is temporary?"

Dr. Kline shrugged, "It's possible she reacted badly to the morphine."

Parkinson arched his eyebrow questioningly, "Is that a fact or...?"

"We're not omnipotent, sheriff," the doctor defended. "But if that were the case then she should recover as the morphine leaves her system without needing psychological evaluation."

Parkinson groaned, "Yeah ok. Take her off of it."

"Wasn't morphine!" I stressed.

"Excuse me? I have work order for this room," a custodial man stood in the doorway. He spoke with an accent that I couldn't quite pick.

"What work order?" Dr. Kline frowned.

"To fix TV," the man gestured to the dead unit in the corner of the room.

"At six in the morning?" Parkinson questioned.

"I have to get work orders done before visiting hours, sir," the custodian explained as he walked further in. I struggled to get a good look at him, but he seemed oddly familiar to me. "Is it problem?"

Parkinson exchanged looks with the doctor, "No, I think we're done here."

"I'll inform the nurse to swap out her pain medication," Dr. Kline announced, then left the room.

The custodian carried a foot ladder with him to the corner of the room, then climbed it and started mucking around with the wires connecting the TV. Parkinson stayed in the room and watched him as he worked.