lights out » d.h [INACTIVE; INCOMPLETE.]

Welcome To West Ham

Clear skies appear to be unknown around the depths of the sadden building. Each step I took closer to the inside was another beat my heart skipped; my breathing fastens once I take a step inside.

I walk up to the front desk, pulling my short white skirt down a bit, "is this where I check in?" I ask.

"You're the new nurse, am I correct? Ms Anderson?" The lady with blonde hair puts on her thin aqua glasses.

"Yes ma'am," I mess around with the string on my white cross-body bag.

The lady clears her throat as she rummages through a stack of papers on her desk. She soon starts typing something on her really old apple computer.

"Anderson, Arabella?" She raises her thin brow at me.

"I prefer to be called Bella, but yes," I clear my throat.

"We'll send you some paper work at your house later this week, for now I'll call in one of our good nurses to give you a tour. Please, take this nurses hat and take a seat," she hands me your typical cliché white nurses hat, and points to the corner of the wall where there were burgundy colored chairs placed.

While waiting I decided to pick up one of the magazines on their dusty dark brown side table.

Feeling Different? Do You Hear Unusual Voices In Your Mind? No, They Aren't Ghost! You Need To Come To West Ham Asylum!

I scoff, finding that actually offensive and low that this place would make a joke out of a mental illness. While flipping through out most pages, I come across a certain page that catches my eye.

Top Ten Ferocious Patients at West Ham:

1: Daniel James Howe-

"Ms Arabella Anderson?" A petite woman with the same uniform walks in, only her honey auburn colored hair is in the cut of a bob.

I place the magazine back down on it's dusty table, and dust off any fluff on my skirt as I stand up.

"Yes, hello, that's me- well it's actually it's Bella, but uh- hi" I smile awkwardly and raise my hand up a little bit, which was actually useless due to the fact I'm the only person in the front office.

"Come with me, my name is Jill Bowman, but you may call me nurse Bowman. From now on we will all address you as nurse Anderson," she starts to walk me out of the front office to the hallway into the lounge.

I quickly place the nurses hat on my head before entering; the lounge smelled of unwashed armpits, and the sound of classical jazz was played softly.

"We'll take your photo for your I.D later, but for now when presented by a patient you must introduce yourself by your nurse name," she looks over at an old lady with a uniform, who is suddenly leaving the room.

"Phew, now since she's gone I can talk like a normal person," nurse Bowman sighs in relief.

"You can call me Jill as long as she's not around, she's the head of this place, you must have spoken to her at least once over the phone," she looks at her nails.

"Oh, Ms Agnes Grundy?" I fix my posture.

"Yeah, I call her Ms Grouchy though," Jill rolls her eyes. "Anyways, your name is Bella? Or Arabella? I'm like lost.." Jill crosses her arms.